“Do you wanna see the pool?” I ask, trying to sound casual, but there’s an edge of excitement in my voice. I want her to feel welcome. To know that this place, my home, can be her home too. She hesitates, glancing back at my parents. Mom smiles and nods again.
Avery takes a deep breath, then nods slowly. She lets Ms. Dee take her backpack and steps toward me, her movements small and careful, like she’s afraid of making a mistake. I lead her through the house, pointing out different rooms and talking a little too fast.
“That’s the living room, but we never really use it. And over there’s the kitchen, where Ms. Delores makes the best pancakes. The pool is this way.” I step out of the open glass doors, the sunlight hitting us hard. The pool sparkles, and I can’t help but grin as I gesture toward it. “Pretty cool, right?”
Avery blinks at the sight, her mouth opening slightly. I can see the wonder in her eyes—the complete awe. It’s refreshing really, giving me a new outlook on the manor that seemed so boring to me just ten minutes ago.
“I-” Avery squeaks, her face going bright red. “I don’t know how to swim.” She shakes her head, trying to hide her blush behind the strands of hair falling free around her face.
“That’s okay,” I say quickly. “I can teach you.” Her big, blue eyes flicker to mine again, and for the first time since she arrived, there’s a tiny spark of something in her expression. Something close to hope, which rocks me.
“Okay,” she whispers. It’s certain now; I have to help her. Show her there’s nothing to be scared of here—that I’ll be her friend. Her brother, actually. It’s got a nice ring to it.
We share a grin as I start to show her how to hold her arms out like she’s swimming, even though we’re both still standing by the pool's edge. She doesn’t say much, but her eyes follow every movement, her tiny hands mimicking mine. So unsure and shy. I can’t explain it, but it’s like the need to protect her is already there, just sitting under my skin.
As I show her how to move her arms, a figure appears at the glass doors behind us. I glance up, thinking it’s Mom coming to check on us, but it’s Dad. He’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, his eyes fixed onus. Not in the usual, distant way, like when he's thinking about work or something else, but with an intensity that makes my stomach knot. I can’t remember the last time he looked like that.
Avery stops mimicking my movements, noticing him too. Her shoulders tense, and I can feel her pulling back into herself, like she’s worried she’s done something wrong. The little bit of ease she had a second ago is gone, and that warm feeling I had earlier vanishes with it.
“Wyatt, can you come here for a minute?” His voice is calm, but I know the underlying note of seriousness. It’s how he usually talks to me when I’ve disappointed him. He motions with his head for me to follow him back inside. I look at Avery again, trying to reassure her with a small smile, but she’s already turned her gaze back to the pool, her arms wrapped around herself tightly.
As I step inside, I catch the last glimpse of her, standing there alone by the water, looking smaller than ever. I grit my teeth at the thought of leaving her out there, a tick beating in my jaw. What if something happens while I’m not there? What if she falls in?
Dad leads me to his study, out of earshot from the staff and far away from Avery. He stands there for a second, knocking his knuckles against his desk.
“Wyatt,” he finally starts when I’m starting to fidget. “We need to have a serious talk.” I swallow hard, bracing myself.
“What’s going on?” His pale eyes meet mine, holding a weight in his gaze that I don’t like. Not one bit.
“Avery has been through a lot. A lot more than any child should ever go through. She needs to be our focus now.” Avery. I’d only just learned her name, and already it’s like the air in the room shifts around it, making it feel heavier.
“Okay…” I say slowly, not sure where he’s going with this. I glance toward the window, trying to angle myself to see the patio and failing. “What do you want me to do?”
Dad nods, but his face is still tight, his hands resting on his hips.
“There are some things that Avery’s going to have to deal with in the coming months. We’re going to be spending a lot of time helping her adjust. Protecting her.” The word “protect” lingers in the air like an accusation. I open my mouth, but he continues before I can get the words out.
“She’s fragile,” Dad says, his voice laced with concern. It’s unnerving. He pauses, his eyes locking onto mine. “So, with that being said,” he sighs, “we’ve decided to send you to boarding school in the fall. Full time.”
Boarding school. My chest tightens, the words feeling like I’ve been punched. They’ve mentioned it before, sure, but never like this. Never like a solution to something I didn’t even know was a problem.
“You want me to leave?” I ask, my voice cracking. Dad lowers his head slightly.
“It’s not about wanting you to leave, Wyatt. It’s about making sure Avery has the best environment to heal. That’s our priority. Keeping her safe.”
Something sharp twists in my gut at the way he says it. Keeping her safe. Like somehow I could… what? Hurt her? No words make it out, my silence allowing Dad to keep talking. Keep making it so much worse.
“She’s been through trauma. Real trauma. And right now, she needs stability. She needs calm. She needs…” He trails off, and I can feel it coming, whatever he’s been dancing around this whole time. “She needs your mother and I, without distractions.”
Distractions? My chest tightens as the realization hits me.
“You think I’m a distraction,” I say quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. I look down at my bare feet, the weight of the words settling like bricks in my stomach. Less than an hour ago, I was secure enough to feel endless boredom. Now I’m being kicked out. No, I’m being replaced. “But I don’t want to go,” I snap, the anger bubbling up now, sharp and hot. “I want to stay here. I want to help her.”
“I know you do,” Dad says, his voice calm, but there’s a finality to it. His decision has been made. “But right now, what Avery needs is space. And time. She needs to feel safe.”
I angle myself to look out of the window, spotting where Avery still stands by the pool, her small figure outlined by the sunlight. She looks so alone. So lost. Maybe Dad’s right. Maybe I don’t know how to help her. But that doesn’t make this hurt any less.
“You’re sending me away,” I mutter, the words bitter in my mouth. “For her. She just got here, and you’re choosing her over me.”
