Page 1 of Honest With You

Prologue

Ihug Reese tight against my chest as rain slams into the glass windows hard.

She cries out, her little arms flailing. I swallow hard and fight against my own tears.

The front of my dress is soaked from my sister’s tears, but I ignore it.

“Where’s Mama?” Reese cries out in between gasping sobs. She hasn’t stopped crying since we left the cemetery.

I look around the crowded living room for Stephen. I find him sitting next to ourLoloand some cousins, but his worried eyes are already on us. I frantically nod my head at him, begging my brother to give me a break. He doesn’t think twice about getting up and coming over.

I look over at Daddy. He’s sitting by the fireplace, his head in his hands, Uncle Adam is talking to him but he doesn’t even raise his head or blink our way even though Reese is screaming her head off.

I’m only a kid. I can’t do this.I want to scream.

Maybe if I do, Daddy will finally come and give me a hug.

Or at least talk to us. I wish he would tell us everything will be okay.

That Stephen won’t be angry all the time.

That Reese will understand that Mama isn’t coming back.

Every night since Mama died, the two of us have been sleeping in Stephen’s room.

At first, he didn’t want us to, he was too busy being angry at Daddy ignoring us to care.

Stephen is fifteen, a teenager in high school now. He didn’t want us in his room, but one look at Reese and he couldn’t say no. I don’t know what to do but I understand my brother. I’m mad at Daddy too. Why won’t he hold Reese? She’s only seven. Why won’t he hug us like Mama does?

Stephen takes Reese from me, promising her ice cream and it works!

She calms down, sniffing, her face buried on our brother’s chest.

Finally, I can take a break.

Ice cream sounds good, so I follow Stephen to the kitchen but then I hear a sound coming from the family room upstairs as we pass the staircase.

It sounds like someone’s playing a video game.

How rude!I’m only a kid and even I know it’s not right to play after a funeral!

I stomp up the stairs. Happy thatYayaElla let me wear boots with my black dress today. I can be loud and scare that jerk playing video games when my Mama just died.

There’s a boy with blond hair who kinda looks like Uncle Adam playing Stephen’s shooting game.

“Excuse me! You’re not supposed to be doing that!”

I cross my arms. Then tap my foot. I mean business.

He turns to look at me. He’s tilting his head and frowning like he’s confused and doesn’t think I’m serious.

“Why?”

I’m angry.

At Mama for leaving.

At Daddy for not caring.

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