Page 5

Dustin’s eyes flitted nervously between his sister and the door to the kitchen. She was hunched over a giant salad bowl full of a disturbing amount of Froot Loops, a bag of frozen peas pressed to her cheek, while she lazily stirred her cereal.

She was buzzing, and it had him on edge. In their house, that kind of energy usually meant something was about to break – sometimes furniture, sometimes bones, sometimes both. Laney was more… contained than Ma. Or Cary. But it was a wild, unpredictable kind of feeling and it was making him twitchy.

The first time he felt it from her was on his first day of kindergarten. Laney had walked him to the fenced in yard, down the hill from the big kids’ play yard. All the other children were accompanied by parents but Laney proudly held his hand and waited in line, ignoring some of the other older siblings who were jeering at her.

He’d tried to pull away, not wanting to embarrass her, but she’d gripped him so tight it hurt.

Are you embarrassed of me? She’d asked him silently. He shook his head.

No. But I don’t want you to get made fun of.

“I’m proud to be your big sister,” she said out loud, squeezing his hand one more time.

“That’s very sweet,” said a thin woman in a floral skirt holding a clipboard. “But I need to speak to a grown up.”

She smelled like a thrift shop.

Laney had puffed out her chest, looked the lady in the eye, and said “I’m all you get, today.” The woman blinked, clearly taken aback by Laney’s bald forwardness and no-nonsense expression. Laney handed her a piece of paper.

“Here is his class slip. We attended registration last week, and the office has the rest of his paperwork on file.” Then, with a dismissive nod, she turned to Dustin and wrapped her arms around him.

He didn’t hug her back. He never hugged her back. It made him feel bad, that he wouldn’t - couldn’t - but he had a hard time looking people in the eye, and an even harder time touching them.

“I’m sorry,” said the woman curtly, “but I really do need to speak to a parent or guardian. You can’t just waltz in here, little lady, and –”

Laney slowly released her arms from around his back and patted his hand. She wasn’t mad at him for not hugging her back. Laney was never mad at him. But she was mad. His skin tingled as the air around them charged with static, and for a moment he panicked thinking that maybe Ma had actually shown up and was about to make a scene. He whirled around, scanning the crowd for her, but he didn’t see her. And that’s when he realized it was coming from Laney.

The lady looked down her nose at Laney and she looked right back, crackling with energy; it was like watching magic. She grew so big, so tall, several other grown-ups nearby stopped what they were doing and looked at her, confused expressions on their faces. The lady seemed to shrink, like Laney was breathing her in and the woman was shriveling away. They stared at each other, a few parents casting furtive glances and whispering at the strange standoff, and Laney grew and grew and grew. But he knew she was going to blow, soon. Like Ma. He could see the sparks in her eyes. So he grabbed her hand and squeezed it as hard as he could.

It broke the spell and Laney looked at him, the air popping and fizzling as she shrank back to Just Laney until she was smiling at him again. He let out a breath and released the pressure on her hand. Her smile was warm, and crooked, and made him wish he didn’t have to stare at his sneakers. But he could feel it, wrapping around him like a warm blanket, making him invincible. A magic cloak, woven just for him.

You can do this, she said silently. He nodded once, and she seemed satisfied because she released his hand again, clapped her hands together, and said “Alright then. Have a great first day, Dusty!” before she turned on her heel and marched away up the hill.

Several grown-ups had upped their whispering to murmuring, and a few other kids gaped after her open-mouthed. He stifled a giggle, thinking that Laney would have called them Fish Faces.

I can do this.

And he did.

That lady had turned out to be the teacher and had pretty much ignored him for the entire school year, which suited him just fine. He didn’t want to be included, didn’t like holding hands in a circle, refused to read out loud. He was happy to be left alone.

He liked the art teacher, Miss Nancy, who came in once a week. She would turn the lights off and let them lie on a pillow and stare at the ceiling making pictures in their head. Sometimes she’d tell them funny stories about witches with six fingers or knights and dragons. Sometimes she’d bring in something she called a ukulele, and play it and sing to them, telling them to let art into their heart . The other kids didn’t like Miss Nancy – they thought she was weird and made fun of her. But Dustin liked her. She never touched him, never got too close, and she gave him a brush for his paints instead of making him use his fingers like the other kids.

Laney had crackled with that Ma-like energy a handful of times since then. Once at the grocery store, when the lady didn’t give her back enough change, thinking Laney didn’t know her counting. Once on the street, to a man at the bus stop. Dustin didn’t know why she’d done it, that time. Just that the man had smiled at her for a long time and she’d gotten Big until he went away. And once at Cary. But Dustin didn’t like to think about that day.

So it was making him nervous, and edgy, the buzzing in the room. It reminded him of Shane, the day they’d met. Shane had shown up out of nowhere, and he’d gotten Big, too. Like Laney. Like Ma.

Dustin had thought that they would like each other, Shane and Laney. But they’d gotten in a fight somehow, and he was worried.

The groaning pipes stopped and Laney’s head snapped up. After a few minutes, Shane appeared in the doorway, wearing a loose pair of black sweatpants with the drawstring pulled tight, and a white t-shirt that said Kiss Me, I’m Catch-Free on it.

“Are these your dad’s?” he asked, pinching the loose t-shirt with a scowl.

“Brother’s,” Laney said, focusing entirely on her cereal, pretending she wasn’t looking at him out of the corner of her good eye.

Shane’s eyebrows raised, and he glanced at Dustin’s scrawny frame and back down at the shirt.

“ Other brother,” she clarified.

He nodded once, his dark wet hair bouncing. It was getting long, compared to when Dustin had met him in the spring.

“Hey, Dustin,” Shane said, turning to him.

Dustin looked at the floor but nodded once, and he could feel Shane’s smile. Shane didn’t smile much, but it was warm, like Laney’s.

“See?” she said. “Angry face muscles. I’m surprised that didn’t literally creak. You need some WD40 for that jaw.”

Shane walked across the kitchen in his bare feet and took the seat across the tiny island from Laney. He was studying her, a little line between his eyes, the buzzing in the room intensifying.

It made his stomach feel weird.

Laney pushed her cereal bowl to the middle of the island and handed Shane an extra spoon. He paused before he took it, a strange look on his face, but then he bent his head and took a heaping spoonful out of her bowl.

Their air seemed to collide, if air can do such a thing, like they were fighting for each other’s space. It was overwhelming, like watching an invisible dance.

Too much, he thought to Laney. But she didn’t hear him. She was looking at Shane, and she wasn’t listening, and Dustin felt himself get mad. It uncoiled lazily like a snake, and he clenched his fists.

LISTEN! he shouted silently.

She heard him that time because she turned her head and looked at him. To his surprise, Shane jumped and turned his head, too.

Can I be Shane’s friend? She asked. Too?

Dustin blew out a long breath, his anger fading as he realized that he was being stupid, and that she would never forget about him.

Okay.

Laney beamed at him, and he knew he’d done good so he looked her in the eye real quick, to let her know it was For Real Okay, and then he scurried down the hall to his room.

Even alone with the door shut, he could feel them.