Page 3 of Past the Broken Bridges

He winces when I poke it, jerking his arm away and rubbing it. “I don’t know,” he says, tugging on the sleeve of his T-shirt to cover it. When it bounces up, I see three more just like it.

“Mom says I bruise like an apple,” I tell him, lifting my pant leg to show him the three tiny ones on my shin. I’m always covered in them, but these have been taking forever to heal. “See? I got this one from tripping up the stairs, this one from our dog Maggie, and this one from our evil cat, Moon. I don’t like her.”

“Why not?”

“She’s evil,” I repeat. Then I tell him how she hisses all the time. Maybe she knows I prefer Maggie and gets jealous of the easygoing golden retriever.

The rest of the afternoon, we watch the clouds roll in,knowing our time is coming to an end for the day. I turn to him, crossing my legs under me. “Do you think the storm they’re talking about is going to be really bad? Daddy had to go into work, but he told Mom that she should take me to my grandma’s house for a few days just in case.”

I haven’t seen Daddy worried before, but whenever I ask if everything is going to be okay, he and Mom tell me it’ll be fine. Then I see them watch the TV and look at each other the way they did when I had to be rushed to the hospital after falling from that tree.

Paxton frowns, looking up to the sky. “I don’t know. It doesn’t seem like it hit Florida that hard, but my parents are thinking about going too.”

“Where?”

He lifts his shoulders. “Probably just inland. We’ve got some family in northern Louisiana that are far enough from the water that it should be fine. It’s not like hurricanes haven’t happened here before, right?”

I nod, eyes moving back to the sky. “Right.”

We sit in silence again, watching the sun completely vanish behind the fluffy gray clouds.

“Maybe it won’t be so bad and we can meet here next weekend,” he suggests, resting his chin on his knees. “It’s nice having a friend.”

I smile cheekily. “I’m your friend?”

His cheeks turn pink. “Unless you don’t want to be?”

I pull out the last pack of fruit snacks I brought with me and pass it to him. “I don’t just share my snacks with anybody, Paxton.”

He grins, dumping half of the gummies into his hand and giving me the other half. “What about the cooties?”

Giggling, I pop a fruit snack into my mouth and nudgehim with my foot. “I’m willing to risk it for you. Just don’t give me a baby, okay?”

He holds out his hand. “Deal.”

We shake and then sit there until the first raindrop falls, only parting ways when the sky opens up around us.

If I’d known that was the last time I’d be walking away from my happy place and the brown-haired boy with my favorite muddy eyes, I probably would have tried staying longer. Learned his last name. His favorite color.

Anything.

But three days later, on August 29, 2005, I found out why Daddy looked so worried about Hurricane Katrina.

And even though he sent us to my grandparents’ house in North Carolina and we heard from Daddy as much as we could while he was out on rescue efforts, I was sad. Sad because I knew the chances of me ever seeing Paxton again were low. Sad because Mom was sad. Sad because Daddy told us he’d be away for a long time to help the people who couldn’t get out.

When I watched the news on the TV with my aunt Taylor and grandma, I learned a new word from the anchor. Devastation.

Maybe sadness didn’t cover what I felt.

I guess I was devastated.

For me and my family and the state I hoped Daddy’s job wouldn’t take us from this time, like it had from New York and Florida and Virginia.

But I guess the storm did that for him.

And months later, when I’m still thinking about the place I’m told I can’t go back to, I swear to myself that one day when I’m a grown-up, I will.

Chapter One

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