Page 2 of The Light We Lost

“No, you’re riding on a dream. One that’s not even yours.”

My throat swelled, a sense of defeat settling in. I grabbed my Chuck Taylors, hoping the polish I’d painted on my toenails mid-packing would dry in the time it took me to walk down the stairs. “I take it you’re going to see him?” Mom asked, eyeing the fruit I’d previously tucked into my bag. “Unless your allergy to peaches miraculously disappeared.”

She reached into my bag, and I didn’t stop her from taking the peach out. I’d get another one. “It’s a mild allergy. Nothing some Benadryl can’t handle.”

She shared a glance with Dad. “Make sure you’re home by nine.”

I let out a heavy breath and walked out of my bedroom, one foot on the stairs as I said, “I’ll see you for my shift in the morning.”

“Indy, I mean it.”

Grinding my teeth, I spun on the step to face her. Her lips were pursed, her red curls tight and in place from the roller set she did every morning. Her skin was smooth and wrinkle free, and despite her claims I’d given her her first gray hair last week, no one would guess she was in her midforties. Her eye twitched, and I could tell by the way she glared at my overalls, she’d realized I only wore a bra underneath. Dad must’ve sensed we were on the verge of blowing up, as he said, “We just want you to be careful, Indy.”

“I’m eighteen,” I reminded him. “In one week, I’m leaving. Giving me a curfew won’t change that.”

He winced, though I had no idea if it had to do with the nerve he’d damaged in his back when he’d served in the US Army or with his youngest child flyingthe coop. “We know nothing is going to change that. But you can’t fault us for wanting to keep you safe.”

“Why do you think you need to protect me from him? He’s done nothing wrong.”

He sighed, running a tattooed hand over his bald head. “We’re not trying to protect you from him necessarily—”

“You’re young,” Mom cut in. “This sort of dedication isn’t healthy. Anyone in town would agree.”

I huffed a laugh, thinking of all the times they’d begged me to commit to something. They’d probably meant something along the lines of a hobby, like baking or playing the guitar, but I’d found something better. “Since when is dedication a bad thing?”

Dad opened his mouth, but Mom beat him to the punch. “There’s a difference between dedication and infatuation. And you’re dangerously walking the line. You give any more to that boy, and you’ll have nothing left.”

I stared at her, defeat weighing even heavier than before. I didn’t believe her—and I was exhausted from this endless battle. “He can have it all, Mama.”

“And when he leaves you?”

I reared back like she’d slapped me, and she might as well have. We’d had our fair share of fights. There were plenty of reasons given and arguments made. But all of them were grounded in fear. I was throwing my life away forsome boy. We’d change and grow apart. I’d get tired of living in his shadow.

It was silly they believed that.

Silly when I’d never felt braver than when I was with him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

I ran down the stairs, out the front door, and onto the porch before I could hear another word. One peek at the sun edging beneath the tops of the pine trees told me I had no time to spare, but I grabbed the hose and sprayed water onto my roses, blooming pops of apricot, yellow, and violet. Promising to give them more tomorrow, I started the quarter-mile run toward town.

“I can’t!” I hollered after hearing Mom shouting from the porch to put on mydamnshoes. “My polish isn’t dry!”

I gripped my shoes in one hand, rocks shifting and pine needles crunching beneath my feet as I ran down the dirt path. It would’ve been quicker to drive, but I doubted Dad was in the mood to loan me his truck. And it wasn’t like I had to go far.

Besides, I’d run forever if it got me away from here.

Wallowpine was a backwater town, wedged in a forgotten corner of Arizona near the New Mexico border. Where the kids grew up running down country roads and mud bogging down by the lake. Supergluing quarters to the floor of the grocery store and playing hide-and-seek in the forest, praying a bear wouldn’t be the one to find you.

Although, the people of this town had me wondering if a bear was the friendlier option. A bear would never accuse me of stealing their cat or snitch to my parents when I climbed out of my bedroom window after curfew. And a bear would never leave a box of tape on my doorstep with a note that said:since you can’t figure out how to shut up on your own.

I could only hope leaving town meant leaving the small-minded folks behind with it.

With time slipping behind the tree line, the sun setting a warm glaze on the valley, I shoved on my socks and shoes and veered into town for a quick pit stop. The ground shifted into broken pavement and concrete, the landing zone of Wallowpine.

I waved to Donna as I walked by the front windows of the country store, my sights set on the farmers’ market set up beside it. Grumpy Gus’s eyes narrowed as he saw me, and I smirked as he moved a crate of watermelons out of my reach, acting like I’d steal them to chuck at stop signs.

“Oh, no. I don’t think so,” Wren said, eyeing the peach I grabbed off her stand. “Your mama will kill me.”

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