Jenna shakes her head at me, popping the top of the big container of homemade granola. “Krista made this. She’ll be hurt if you don’t eat any.”
“Yup,” Krista says, looking anything but offended.
Can’t fight the lot of them ganging up on me. “Fine, but hurry.”
I grab the container Jenna holds out, giving her an air kiss.
“Thanks, and thank you for making it, Krista. I’m sure it will be amazing.” She’s the best cook in the house. Her mom was one of those crunchy types and taught her all kinds of recipes from scratch. None of us protests since she seems to enjoy cooking. To me, it’s just a chore. Something else to add to my overflowing plate.
I crack the top of the container, and the sweet scent of maple and toasted oats elicits another rumble from my stomach. Beth swerves out of the driveway, and I’m glad I have something to focus on, stuffing a handful of the protein-packed treat in my mouth. I’ve been a little nervous in cars since the accident, and Beth has a toxic relationship with the gas pedal. If she hadn’t offered, I would have taken the bus. But I really can’t afford theextra hour it would take to get there on public transit. Not when I have a ride.
I’m washing down my last bite with a gulp of coffee when we pull into the familiar driveway. The cream paint is a little more worn than the last time I saw it, and the driveway hasn’t been shoveled, but otherwise it looks the same. I appreciate the familiarity. Life is so hectic and stressful. So much happening that I don’t have the time to relax at college. And while I’m not here to relax now, I can let my guard down. My family doesn’t expect me to be anything but myself. I’m not the team captain or the social media star. I’m just Luna.
Beth returns my wave, then I slide my key into the door, and it feels like I’m stepping back in time.
“Lulu!”
I brace myself as my little sister hurls her lithe body at me. She’s tiny, but she’s got the advantage of speed to throw me off balance.
“I’m so glad you’re here. I have to go to Gemma’s house. We’re working on our act for the school talent show. And then I’ve got dance for the rest of the afternoon.”
She drops back to the ground.
Her strawberry blonde hair is pulled up into a perfect ballet bun, not a strand out of place, and she’s got a pair of loose green sweats hanging off her pronounced hips. I run my eyes over her. She’s always been willowy, but I worry about the pressure she puts on herself. It wasn’t something I thought about when I abandoned dance at the age of six, but as we grew up, I watched my sister struggle with the stringent body expectations of a dancer. I’m glad it wasn’t the sport for me, but I worry about her.
“Hey, sis. Are you looking after yourself?”
She rolls her eyes at me. “Ugh, I can look after myself. You know we’ve already got a mom, right?”
“I can still look out for you.” I try to keep my tone light and teasing, even though the knot in my chest is burning. Yes, I know I’m not her parent, but I also know things haven’t been the same around here since Mom’s accident. On a bad day, she has trouble getting out of bed. The pain from her headaches is too much to handle.
“Whatever. I’ve got to go. Gemma’s here.” She waves her fingers at me, dancing toward the door, but I snag her arm, pulling her back to me before she can open it.
“Get your coat. It’s freezing out there.”
“We’re going to be in a car. Relax.”
I blow out a breath, swiveling my eyes up to stare at the ceiling. She’s only sixteen. She can’t help herself.
“Please take a coat. What if the car broke down? You’d be an icicle before anyone could get to you.”
“Fine. You’re so dramatic.” She snatches the thick winter coat to appease me, but she drapes it over her arm instead of putting it on. At least she has it. It takes the slightest edge off the constant worry that lurks in the back of my mind.
“Look who’s talking?”
“Kay. Bye.”
I wrap my arms around her too-thin frame before she can escape. “Drive safe.”
“We will. See you later.”
“Love you.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She twists around before walking out the door. “Love you too, Lulu.” It might be barely audible, but it still warms my heart.
“Hey, hon.” Mom’s voice is thready, but she’s up and about, so she must be having a decent day.
I turn around to see her standing in the doorway to her bedroom with a tired smile on her face, leaning on her cane.
