THIRTY

“Jamie,” Cate says in a sort of a whine. “I miss you, little brother.”

“Where are you?” This feels like an automated response by now.

“I’m close. Really close.”

“Where are you staying?”

“Wherever I can.”

“Well, don’t burn any barns down, okay?” Oh, God. I’m feeling sort of crazy when I say this. I don’t know why I say this.

“What? What was that? Did you say something about barns?”

My neck goes stiff. “Nope. No way. I said, uh, don’t forget to stay warm.”

“You said barn.”

“No I didn’t.”

“That’s not funny.”

I opt for a subject change. “Cate, I saw the emails you sent Angie. I saw them on her computer. She didn’t tell me you were getting out.”

There’s silence.

“Hello?” I say.

Nothing.

Damn it.

“Cate?”

“I’m too angry to talk right now, Jamie. I think you said something mean about me.”

“I didn’t!”

“I’m still angry.”

“Don’t be, Cate. I want to help you. I want to understand. Everything.”

“I don’t believe you. You don’t care about me. You never wrote while I was gone. You never visited.”

“You told us not to visit! You wouldn’t let us! And I did write. At first.”

“Not enough.”

“Well, you never wrote back.”

“That shouldn’t have stopped you.”

“Whatever,” I say, because although she’s right, it’s not like I was having such a great time, either.

“Hey, Jamie?” she asks softly.

“What?”

“Do you remember that time Angie stole something out of my room? I’m not talking about you finding that photo of us as kids—yeah, I knew about that. I mean earlier. When I broke her vase. That handblown glass one.”

I lean my head back against the seat. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Do you know what she took from me?”

“Um … drugs?”

“No, dickhead. Well, that wasn’t the only thing. She stole pictures of our mom! I had pictures of our real mom.”

I freeze.

My hands go.

“Jamie?”

I manage to keep the phone gripped between my ear and my shoulder, but my head spins and my lungs burn, like they’re conspiring against me.

“Why didn’t I know that?” I squeak. “Why haven’t I seen them? Cate, it’s our mom. You know I don’t remember her.”

“You haven’t seen them because I didn’t have them anymore. Angie took them from me after I told her I was going to bring your old memories back, and that once I did maybe you’d stop loving her.”

“What? Why would you tell her that? Shit, Cate, my hands! I can’t feel them.”

“I told her that because she didn’t listen to me! Every time I missed our mom or wanted to talk about our past Angie wouldn’t let me. She’d yell or ignore me, or worse, she’d cry. I felt bad at first but you can only feel bad for so long when someone else’s pain is hurting you, too. After a while it kind of pisses you off.”

I make a mewling sound. What Cate did to Angie, what she said to her, God, it’s so mean.

My sister’s voice drops to a whisper. “Angie sent me the photos after I emailed her. She apologized, but she also told me not to come home. She’s scared I’m going to ruin you next. And you know what? Maybe she should be.”

“Ruin me how? I want to see those pictures!”

“Meet me tomorrow then. But don’t tell anyone. You have to promise.”

“Where?” I say. “When?”

“Crap. Someone’s here. I gotta go.”

“Cate, wait! Don’t—”

“Later, kid.”

Click.

The phone slips from my ear and my stomach starts to cramp. I try to hold it back, but I know I’m going to puke. Like, right now. Only I can’t open the car door. My goddamn hands. I make a frantic jab at Jenny with my shoulder, to see if I can wake her up, but then I have to use my elbow and body weight to roll down the driver’s side window. Half strangled by the seat belt, I stick my head out just in time to throw up onto the street. Loudly. Then I throw up some more and it’s terrible. This is way worse than the Gatorade-tequila time because I don’t think I’m going to forget this.

I know I won’t forget.

This is awful,

awful,

awful.

Finally I bring my head back inside. But with my hands dead, I can’t move any more than that. I’m stuck behind the steering wheel of a car I can’t drive. I am utterly helpless.

Beyond helpless.

I’m hopeless.

Damn.

I close my eyes.

Cate has pictures of our mom.

Angie stole them from her.

To keep me from seeing them.

None of this makes sense.

My sister is crazy.

Totally crazy.

This is all my fault.

“FUCK!” Twisting with all my might, I slam my left shoulder against the door as hard as I can. The Jeep rocks and bright stars of pain ricochet back up to my skull. I groan and rear back to do it again.

“Jamie?” a voice says, halting me mid-flail.

My heart flutters. Oh, Jenny.

“Jamie, are you okay?”

No, I’m not, I think. I am not okay. But as usual, I can’t say it.

“Did you get sick, too?” she asks.

“Uh, yeah. I got really sick.”

“Poor Jamie.”

I grunt.

“Wait, where are we?”

I open my eyes and look over at Jenny. She’s blinking and sitting up. She’s still got my jacket wrapped around her and I want her so bad that a little part of me wishes I were dead. A little part of me wishes my life weren’t like this. Terrible.

But just like clockwork, the voice inside my head whispers, You reap what you sow, don’t you, Jamie?

“My hands are messed up,” I tell Jenny, because I don’t know what else to do. “You want to come over to my place for the night? I was heading there so that you wouldn’t get in trouble with your folks. But now, I sort of need your help.”

Jenny smiles drowsily. “Sure.”

“I hope you don’t mind walking the rest of the way,” I say.

 

 

Jenny texts her parents that she’s staying with Greta.

Half an hour later we lie face to face in my bed. Jenny’s got my sweats on and she even helped me get my jeans off and my teeth brushed. She’s falling asleep while holding on to my hands and rubbing them, and even though I can’t feel it, just seeing her touch me is turning me on. I watch her. I watch her because she’s so pretty and sweet and watching her keeps my mind off Cate.

She keeps touching my hands.

My heart keeps aching for things I can’t have.

Like a clear conscience.

Like inner peace.

“Tell me again,” she whispers.

“Tell you what?”

“Tell me that name you called me. Back up on the mountain.”

I say it in her ear. “You’re my Jenny bird.”