Page 16 of The Art of Us

He broke into a run when his feet left the path and were on solid pavement again. Kal ran all the way back to Geppetto’s, where he gathered up his things, loaded his beat-up, half-rust and half-red Dodge Ram truck and headed for home.

When he got inside, Kal felt a ping in his chest at seeing his dad absently scratching the top of his thick, dark hair. His dad had a laptop propped up on his long legs that rested on the gray footstool in front of the couch. His mom always said Kal was lucky that he got his father’s height and thick hair and dark eyelashes. Kal had never really wanted to look like his dad, but now seeing him after having been tromping around the woods made Kal rethink his disdain toward anything about his parents. His dad looked up. “Hey, kid, what kept you so late?”

Kal checked the time on his phone. Dang. It really was late. He was surprised his parents hadn’t called him to find out if he was dead in a gutter. They worried a lot more now than they used to, ever since the whole incident with Brell.

“Friends and I stayed after and had some pizza. We got to talking, and I guess we lost track of time. Sorry, Dad.” Kal hoped he looked contrite and not guilty. Honestly, he was surprised his dad hadn’t called. He was more surprised that his mother hadn’t called.

He found comfort in the fact that they worried. It took off some of the burden of worry he was carrying himself.

“Make sure you call when you’re going to be late. The kitchen is extra clean because your mom needed something to do instead of hovering. She’s now working on my office. Go interrupt her so that she can stop. I can never find anything when she cleans up after me.”

Kal grinned and shook his head. Gratitude surged in him,threatening to overwhelm him and make him break down and bawl like a baby right then and there. The fact that his mom had dared brave his dad’s office and the avalanche of bizarre receipts and paperwork that he kept in there meant she really was trying to give Kal the space that he had told her he needed.

He clenched and unclenched his fist as his smile slipped and he had to force it back up. “I’ll put a stop to that.”

In his dad’s office, his mom shoved back a strand of loose dark hair that had escaped her short ponytail as she stood and muttered over the desk covered in lopsided stacks of books and papers. Kal only caught every few words, but it was enough for him to get the idea. “What ... thinking? How ... find anything ... infuriating.”

“Hey, Mom.”

She whirled around as if she was doing a tryout for a horror film and needed to pretend to be more terrified than she’d ever been in her life. Her hand went to her chest in a clear attempt to put an end to the heart attack that had surely begun. “Oh, you’re home. Oh good. I really didn’t want to clean your dad’s office. Look at this.” She gestured to the desk and the piles on top of it. “It’s like he’s trying to do a reenactment of Everest. I’m almost certain that there’s climbing equipment in here somewhere.”

“Not that anybody would notice,” Kal said. “I really am sorry I was late. I should’ve called. I will next time.” Then he did something uncharacteristic of him lately. He stepped forward, opened up his arms, and folded his mom up into them. He’d grown a lot over the last year. He was a good foot taller and could easily rest his chin on top of her head.

“What’s all this?” she mumbled against his shirt sleeve.

“It’s just nice to have parents who care. I appreciate that you didn’t call to check in on me. That you trusted I was okay.” There was so much more he wanted to say. He was glad he was safe. He was glad he had a roof over his head and a bed to sleep in. Hewas glad he had food to eat. And he really wanted to figure out how to help Ireland get the same things.

Chapter Five

Ireland

Ireland woke up grouchier than she’d been when she’d gone to sleep. After a night of deranged dreams brought on by a deranged poem, she wanted to throttle whoever it was that had invaded her personal space—her sanctuary—and scribbled absurdity all over her wall after she’d spent an entire afternoon cleaning. What kind of abscess on the human population does such a thing? And sure, calling a bathroom a personal sanctuary might seem like a little much, but still.

Ireland growled her way through her morning routine of washing her face, brushing her teeth, and pulling her hair back into a ponytail. She used a washcloth to hopefully remove some of the body odor, but wasn’t sure it worked. Then she looked in the mirror and considered.

Kal Ellis.

He had asked her to dinner. And, sure, it wasn’t like a date or anything. But italmostfelt like one, certainly the closest thing she’d ever had to one. The way she moved around all the time with her dad meant that she didn’t have a lot of time for forming those types of relationships.

Now? Now she had opportunities. Her father wasn’t going to move her anywhere in the next few days, weeks, or months. She was guaranteed to stay put. For a little while, anyway. That meant it was okay if she made some friends. It was okay if she talked to people. It was okay for her to take up space in a real way.

Ireland tugged out the ponytail. It was a basic sort of style that kept her hair out of her face, but it certainly didn’t make her more appealing visually. She took a pencil out of her bag and used the tip to part her hair like she’d done the night before. She braided one side and then the other. She didn’t need to tie off the braids with any kind of hair tie. Her hair had enough natural curl to pretty much stay where she’d put it. At least when it was in braids.

She didn’t know where the curl came from. Without ever meeting grandparents and having only a hazy memory of a mother, it could have come from anywhere. Ireland only knew that if she washed it and then used her fingers to fluff it up while it was still wet, the ringlets appeared. And if she didn’t comb through them, they usually stay put. Curls or braids weren’t things she did very often. The rushed ponytail was more her speed. But now, after her date with Kal and the way she felt today, she needed to figure out a different sort of pace for herself.

Her life wasn’t going to be all about the flight. Not anymore. Her life could have a few roots planted in soil of her choosing. And, honestly, she really liked where she was at now. She’d traveled up and down the coastline, moving into one unfortunate apartment after another. Most of them were crumbling to the ground, and several of them were probably used to cook meth. And the neighborhoods usually matched the apartment. But this time the school was decent. Arcata felt, in the strangest way possible, like home.

Ireland had to admit her dad had done better this time. Even the apartment in this town hadn’t been that bad. It hadn’t been great, but at least it wasn’t infested with vermin or bugs or tweaked-out addicts. Sure, there had been a few of all of the above. But they weren’t leaking out of the cracked plasters of the walls.

She took a deep breath that filled her lungs and let it out. She looked her reflection in the eye. “I can be someone different.”

With that declaration, she began to pack up her little home for the day. Now and again, she cast her gaze in the direction of the wall that had been smeared in lipstick the night before. Ireland wanted to keep her eye on it just in case she was the victim of a poltergeist. Did poltergeists use lipstick? How would she know? It’s not like she was a medium with a crystal ball.

She ate a salad and several pieces of pizza, figuring eating cold pizza was a stereotype of teenagers everywhere. She’d never read that any of them had died from it, so the food still had to be pretty good. But she wasn’t sure how long the rule of cold pizza being just fine to eat could hold out before her pizza actually went bad and gave her food poisoning and some future hiker found her dead in the bathroom. So she ate as much as possible. Better to be a little sick from being full than to be starving or to have food poisoning.

Besides, food that could be attractive to raccoons could end up being a problem for her later on.

For that reason, she stayed close to the bathroom the entire day. It’s not like she had anywhere to go. Plus, she had a ton of homework to do. So she worked on that, listened to her music, and ate pizza. Toward evening, Ireland started to feel vaguely stupid that she’d taken the time to do her hair. It’s not like anyone was going to see her on the weekend, especially since she had no intention of going into town.

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