Page 64 of Catch the Sun

“Hmm,” she hums in thatMomway. “He’s handsome.”

My heart jumps a little. “He’s all right. What are your thoughts on molecular genetics? We’re learning about that in biology.”

She sighs. “My thoughts are that you picked up the gene of swift subject changes just like your father used to—” Mom cuts herself short when my head whips toward her and tries to blink away the words. “Sorry.”

I’d be a hypocrite if I gave her crap for the Dad slip, considering the number of times Jonah’s name has tumbled from my lips. It’s funny how the two most important people in our lives have been reduced to instant conversation killers. “It’s fine.”

“I, um, I actually have something for you. These came in the mail.” Straightening from the doorframe, Mom pulls an item from the pocket of her black dress pants. Envelopes, folded in half. “Here.”

At first I think they’re checks from Grandma Shirley, since she’s the onlyperson who sends me mail and Lord knows she wouldn’t miss another fifty dollars. But when I step closer and scan the letters scribbled on the front of one of them, the handwriting doesn’t match. It doesn’t match at all.

My stomach lurches.

RIVERBEND MAXIMUM SECURITY INSTITUTION

NASHVILLE, TENNESSEE

Our eyes meet. Mine widening, Mom’s misting with a gloss of tears. My hand trembles as it reaches for the envelopes and I try to find my voice. “Thanks.”

“I didn’t read them. I’ve hung on to them for a while… I was worried about how you’d react.”

All I do is nod.

“Ella…I’ve seen progress over the last couple of weeks.” Swallowing, she lifts an arm and gives my shoulder a firm squeeze. “You’re smiling again. You seem like you’re in a better place.”

I keep nodding, mindlessly. I’m nodding because if I don’t do something to distract myself, I’ll burst into tears and collapse at her feet. I don’t want to burst into tears. I don’t want to collapse. Crying is exhausting and collapsing will skin my knees and make me bleed. I’m just so sick of hurting. I’ve been collecting fresh wounds as often as I collect new books.

Mom swipes at her eyes and retreats slowly, monitoring my condition. My excessive nodding condition. “I’m here if you need me,” she says. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

The moment the bedroom door closes, I race over to my bed and tear open one of the envelopes, revealing a hand-scrawled note inside.

Jonah.

Jonah, Jonah, Jonah.

I cup a hand around my mouth and begin to read.

Piglet,

I had a dream about the Hundred Acre Wood last night. I gothere a lot when the days are long and the nights are longer, and that’s where I find you. You’re always waiting for me like a home on two legs. Only, last night was different…you weren’t there. I stood on our favorite bridge with a stick in my hand and watched through the trees, waiting for you to come and join me. But the woods remained silent and my stick slipped from my fingers into the river below, carried away by water.

I haven’t heard from you and I understand why. You think I killed them. I saw it in your eyes that last day in court. You think I deserve to be sentenced to death for a crime constructed by thirsty prosecutors and media mongrels.

You think I belong here.

But in my dreams I belong at home. With you and Mom. I should be watching over my little sister, protecting her like I swore I always would.

I go by a lot of names these days: Monster. Murderer. Psychopath. Sicko. Inmate #829. But I hope that when you think of me…

I’ll forever be your Pooh Bear.

Love always,

Jonah

The letter flutters to my bedcovers as a painful gasp is wrenched from my throat.

I burst into tears and collapse.

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