Chapter Fifty-Five

I’VE MADE A HUGE MISTAKE.

I promised Liam I would be at his game, but now that we are here, I regret it. We are out of town, and I feel the loss of the crows’ presence more than I thought I would.

The noise is layers deep. The low, constant murmur of people talking in their seats. The shrill whistles from the referees, and the heavy, meaty sound of so many bodies colliding on the field. The cheerleaders are right below us, in perfect unison. But something is off tonight. The clanging cowbells feel like a warning.

It is strange to have my whole family here, sitting on the bleachers in a row. Around us, it looks like the entire town showed up: the familiar faces of my teachers, and the game warden from the township meeting. Bill DiMarco is sitting two rows behind us, and he chats with my dad for a while before we take our seats at the start of the game. I spy the Auburn fire chief, who has worked with my dad to evaluate fire-damaged structures before the construction team moves in. The few times I met him, he always struck me as the most serious person I’d ever seen, even in third grade when he taught us to stop, drop, and roll and how to call 911 in an emergency.

The first quarter ends, and the bleachers feel like they could collapse under all the people jumping up and down. The Wolves are winning.

But the fire chief doesn’t look worried tonight, about the structure of the bleachers or anything else. He’s even smiling and waving a maroon-and-silver pom-pom around while he stomps his feet with the rest of the crowd.

“Huge night for Auburn’s Wolves. They haven’t gone this far in almost twenty years. Maybe this time they’ll go all the way!” This comes over the loudspeaker.

Mom nudges me. “Leighton, let’s go get some hot cider with the girls.” Her voice holds tension that is such a contrast with the mood of everyone around us. She noticed it, too. I saw it when we were all getting ready, when for a moment he thought he’d misplaced his keys, but they’d just slid to the back of the fridge, and Mom found them quickly. And on the drive here, how angry he got when someone didn’t let him merge in time, and we missed the exit.

The collective, silent relief that rippled through us when we arrived and safely parked.

“You okay?” I ask her, and she shakes her head. She isn’t saying no. She’s saying not here. I glance over her shoulder to my father. Something shifted in the last few minutes.

“C’mon, let’s go get cider,” I say. I don’t know what I missed.

“Erin, we’re leaving. This was a mistake,” Dad says suddenly. Whatever was building is at its tipping point, and I don’t even know what set him off this time.

Mom sits down.

The line of his jaw is tight. It’s an expression so familiar to me that a chill runs from the nape of my neck down my spine, and I tug my sweatshirt tighter around me. I don’t know what to expect in such a public place.

He reaches down. It’s a subtle movement, but I’m watching now, and I see the pressure in the grip of his fingers on her forearm. “I told you we’re leaving,” he says.

She shakes her head.

The cowbells grow louder as the team returns to the field.

An alarm ringing in my ears.

“Get the fuck up,” he tells her, a little louder this time. A few heads turn in their direction. Mom looks around. People notice the commotion.

She smiles. A big, beautiful smile. You can’t even tell it’s broken from the outside, but there’s a fault line underneath.

“Not yet, Jesse,” she says, shaking her arm, pulling it from his grasp. She turns back to the field, tugging Juniper into her lap, and people closest to us avert their gazes.

My eyes are on him. If she’s a fault line buried beneath the surface, then he’s a volcano, about to—

“You make this so much more goddamn difficult than it needs to be,” he says. He seizes her arm again, and this time many people look over. His grip is like iron, and even though she has a jacket on, you can see where fingers are pressing into her. I want to scream at him. I want to throw up.

“Fuck it,” he says. “Suit yourself.” He releases her arm. It’s going to leave a bruise.

He pushes past me and climbs down the bleachers quickly.

“He’s gonna take the truck. Dammit. Stay with the girls.” Mom moves after him.

When I turn back to Campbell and Juniper, Bill DiMarco is watching us. It looks like he saw the entire thing. I’m sure he was close enough to hear it.

He looks back to his wife and small daughter, and then joins the crowd when they cheer. Wolves have the ball.

“This fucking town,” I mutter.

“That’s a bad word,” Juniper scolds me.

“Sorry, Junie. I have to go stop Mom.”

“We’re coming.” Campbell isn’t asking, and I’m not going to make her sit here alone.

We make our way down the bleachers, and Sofia is waiting at the bottom of the stairs. She ignores me, turns to Campbell.

“Campbell! Hey, girl. I’ve been trying to catch you all night. Can we please talk about this dance, because I know Leighton is going to try to wear a cardigan over her dress and put her hair in a messy bun.”

Despite everything, Campbell smiles. Rolls her eyes. “Leighton, you totally would try that.”

“Can I keep them for a minute?” Sofia asks, meeting my eyes over the tops of Campbell’s and Juniper’s heads.

“Thank you,” I mouth silently. And then I hear my name from the bleachers, and see Fiona barreling down the stairs toward us.

“Leighton!” She throws her arms around me. “Are these your sisters?”

She turns to Campbell and Juniper. “I’m Liam’s little sister, Fiona. I’ve been dying to meet you guys. Leighton talks about you so much.”

Juniper beams, and I almost burst into tears.

“I’ve gotta run if I’m gonna catch her,” I say, and she nods.

Fiona has already tucked Juniper’s little hand under her arm, and they’re talking about getting cider.

I take off down the track after Mom.