shrug and begin to dish out the eggs onto a plate. I shake the lingering dream from my mind. It’s been awhile since I dreamt of him.
We eat in silence but Gram keeps glancing up at me and her eyes darken only for a moment before she smiles, and I smile back. Silence is very unlike Gram, she’s a woman who speaks her mind and it makes me nervous how quiet she is.
I move around the kitchen cleaning up breakfast but she’s always watching. It’s unnerving so I leave the dishes and get ready for school.
I have a quick shower and a smell of all the T-shirts on my floor to see which one’s the cleanest, settling on plain white. I don’t let Gram into my room, or wash my clothes. She does enough for me already. I have no idea how to pay her back so I make sure I don’t let her do anymore than she has to.
Gram holds a backpack out as I make my way to the front door. Grabbing it, I shake my head and toss it into the corner of the front closet. I don’t do school work so no need for a backpack.
I push my feet into my sneakers without undoing the laces and Gram clears her throat. I walk over and give her a quick one-armed hug and kiss her forehead, like I do every morning.
“Lachlan, son, I want you to come home right after school. I need to talk to you about all this sneaking out you’ve been doing.”
My jaw muscles all fail at the same time and I look down at my frail grandmother, her boney hands resting on her hips.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she says. “I’m an 80-year-old woman who had a husband and 4 children. Don’t think you can pull the wool over my eyes that easy, young man. Be home, or we’re going to have problems.”
“Yes, Gram.” I say with total sincerity. I never want to have problems with Gram. I’m terrified of what that could mean.
CHAPTER FIVE
Talia
The first day of school is my worst nightmare. In the literal sense, I’m still having nightmares about it.
I text Janna when I wake up. She always has her phone, I swear she sleeps with it pressed to her ear, but I still haven’t heard from her.
I hate first days, and I’ve already had a panic attack that left me curled up on my bed, exhausted. I’m used to this. I also have night terrors all the time, the doctor says it’s part of the anxiety. I say it is because my brain is revolting against me. I’m used to it, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck big time.
I brush my teeth like a zombie and can’t stop the dark shadows of my thoughts from closing in. They slither and slide through my brain, tainting everything with doom.
I can’t shake the feeling that the actual first day of school isn’t going to be far from the nightmare version, so I take my time getting ready. I eat breakfast at a glacial pace as my mother sits across the table from me, painting her long fake fingernails. She looks up once. Once. But hasn’t said a word. Part of me wishes she’d talk to me, part of me is glad that she just stays out of it. When she does talk to me it’s about going back on pills. I don’t tell her about the attacks anymore. I used to call out to her but now we barely speak.
“So when is dad getting home?” I ask, trying to make conversation. She smiles at me but it’s fake and it doesn’t reach her eyes. My mother is very pretty. Tall and skinny like Nan but she has Pop’s brown eyes and light hair.
“On Saturday maybe.”
“Maybe?” How does she not know when her husband is getting home? Sometimes I feel like we’re just roommates, the three of us, instead of a family. It didn’t used to be this way. I remember when my dad was a defence lawyer and mom and I would go watch him in court. Now he settles accounts and writes contracts for some corporate insurance company and we never see him anymore.
“It depends on how the negotiations go, Tali. He might have to stay, or he might be able to come home.”
“I bet he just has another family,” I mumble and dump my bowl into