side. The ends flipped just right to call attention to my boobs.
Bryan might not be a critical component to my happiness anymore, and his approval no longer mattered the way it once did. But I also didn’t want him to see me all grown up and dismiss me. I wanted him to be knocked on his ass.
I moved down the dark hallway from my room on the second story at the back of the house. Dizzy’s room was beside it, then a small bathroom we shared between us, then the stairs.
The master bedroom, where Uncle Bruce slept, was at the front of the house, overlooking the front yard. His door was closed, I noticed as I descended the stairs. His door was usually closed, especially in the daytime when he slept. At night, he worked at a metal fabrication facility.
The length of separation between his room and ours felt symbolic . . . clear lines of delineation. His life didn’t involve ours, and ours didn’t involve his, even though we lived in the same house. Some might find that odd. But I was accustomed to being ignored by the grown-ups in my life. My brother was the only real parent I’d ever known.
Downstairs, I trailed my fingers over the back of the 1960s-era evergreen couch. The earth-toned plaid chairs that were paired with it were also from my favorite design era. A simpler time, in my mind, when people marched for peace, gathered at a dairy farm for free music, and love seemed to take priority over hate.
The furniture in the small living room was left by my grandparents, who had died years ago and bequeathed their house and possessions to their nonaddicted offspring. My mother had disappointed them so many times, they’d been glad to have her out of their lives. They’d never even known that Dizzy and I existed.
I pushed through a swinging door to enter the kitchen. The music in the backyard was already pumping, the thumping bass rattling a few of the glass cabinet doors. Luckily, we had nice neighbors on either side of us who wouldn’t complain about the noise. Mrs. Smith was a widowed old lady who was sweet on Dizzy, and Mr. Chang on the other side worked nights, though not at the same company as our uncle.
I opened the back door and propped open the screened one with my hip. Shifting sideways, I locked the door with my key. I didn’t want anyone wandering into the house. That had only happened once before, and Uncle Bruce had gone apoplectic, threatening to send Dizzy and me back to our mother. We hadn’t made that same mistake again.
The backyard was roughly the same size as the downstairs of the house, boasting a bricked patio with some era-appropriate outdoor furniture. It was filled with people I didn’t know. With Dizzy’s admonishment about me trying to be more social running through my head, I went around to each group and introduced myself while glancing between the driveway and the garage.
Is Bryan already here or yet to arrive? Does he look the same? Will I recognize him? Will he recognize me? My heart fluttered as those thoughts went through my mind.
“I saw you in English class.” A very tall guy with a slight Southern accent and thick waves of blond hair moved in front of me.
“Really?” I tilted my head. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember you.”
“It’s hard to keep track of everything and everyone you meet on the first day.” He shifted his weight from one worn high-top sneaker to the other. “It took me a couple of weeks to feel like I fit in.”
“Did you move from here in Seattle?” I asked.
“No. From Portland, and Alabama before that.”
“That’s a big change. Two of them.” I winced. “But I imagine not a good one if you ended up here in Southside.”
“It’s okay. My dad moves around for his work. After this last move, I went from being a junior varsity player to varsity on the team here.”
“Basketball?” I lifted a brow.
“Yeah.” His hazel-green eyes danced, and his full lips curved. Based on his height, he probably thought what sport he played should have been obvious.
“Cool,” I said, and meant it. He was unassuming, cute, and had a nice smile. “Congrats.”
“Thanks. Hey, I’m Chad. Chad Phillips.” He shifted again and ran a hand through his golden hair as if I made him nervous. “I wondered if you’d like to get together and study sometime. English is hard for