She shrugged. “I can take care of myself, Sis. I’ve been doing it for the last couple of months.” She shook her head. “I need to feel something other than hurt. I’m…starting to feel numb. Like when you sit on your leg too long and have to shake it to get the feelings back. I need to shake my life up. I need to feel…happy, just for a little while.”
She became quiet, staring at the ceiling again, and I left her room, going to the kitchen, cutting two slices of cake and pouring two glasses of milk. On the way back to Atta’s room, I passed Hannah, who had a thick quilt around her shoulders. It was winter, yes, but I had never seen her keep one around her shoulders nonstop before. I passedZiaBianca, who, even though she had told Atta no about going out, was walking the halls as if she was lost in them. Ty was in his room, music blaring.
We had all sung to Atta, but after, the main house felt as if it had turned into a ghost house. A chill floated in the air that was not there before.
Atta’s room was empty. The smell of her lingering perfume reminded me of a ghost itself. She left a note on her bed for me.
Sis,
Going to meet Rattler. I’ll leave the keys in my truck if you decide you want to meet us. You know our secret spot.
Atta
I sighed, making me a spot on the floor, watching television and eating both pieces of cake, finishing off both glasses of milk. My eyes started to droop, probably from the sugar, and I fell asleep. I did not sleep well, and before I knew it, I had to relieve my bladder from all the milk. When my narrowed eyes checked the time on the bedside table, it surprised me to realize three hours had gone by. It was late into the night, the house completely quiet, except for the creaking ghosts.
Atta was not home yet.
An uneasy feeling swirled in the pit of my stomach.
I bundled up. It was December, and the roads were not visible, only thick snow. It fell in layers, except for the swirls twirling in the wind. I padded out, sounding like a ghost myself, and found Atta’s truck parked closer to the guest cottages.
She often parked there. I wondered if it was because she did not want anyone to hear her leave. It was rare forZiaBianca to check on us at night, but the starting of an engine might be heard.
Four tries, and the truck refused to start. I wondered if it felt as frozen as I did. Even with layers, my teeth chattered. My hands felt glued to the steering wheel, the gloves almost feeling useless.
Finally, the ignition turned, and I put the truck in gear. Smoke billowed from the exhaust pipe, and it took miles, it seemed, for the heater to start pumping out warm air.
The warmth did nothing to melt the tension in my chest. Atta needed to feel happy, but she had never stayed out this late. She had a curfew, and even if she was not listening toZiaBianca, I knew she would not have broken that. Or, at the very least, not stayed out this long.
Visibility was slim, the headlights barely touching the roads, only highlighting the swirls of snow. I tried to rush but take my time at the same time. My eyes cut to the area where Atta and Ty’s grandfather, father, and uncles had died in the accident, and a feeling colder than the weather, one of heartbreak, hit me, followed by a rush of panic.
My foot hit the gas, and the truck seemed to complain to me, grumbling some.
A faint smile came to my face when I remembered the last time I had heard it do that. WhenZioBear had taught me how todrive. He also taught Atta and me how to change a tire. He had always been impressed with how well I could shoot a gun as well.
I reached underneath the seat, feeling for the gunZioBear had kept in Atta’s truck. My hands were as heavy and stiff as ice blocks, and I was not sure if what I was feeling was the gun or the holder.
I sucked in a breath and swerved when something darted across the road, righting the truck before I crashed. I would wait until I arrived at my destination to search for the weapon and hide it on myself. I was wearing so many layers, even the seatbelt strained. It was still cold, even with the heater. Or perhaps my exposed nerves made me feel the chill bone deep.
Perhaps Hannah was right. It was hard to find warmth on the ranch, or anything to do with it after the deaths of the men who had seemed to keep the fires burning.
A sigh of relief escaped my mouth when I found the spot Atta had been talking about. An old barn she had shown me on one of our drives. It was somewhat off the beaten path and a place Rattler told her he used for parties and to hang out.
The truck bumped along the frozen dirt, rocking from side to side, my hands instinctively gripping the wheel. My eyes narrowed as I tried to find signs of life. The door was cracked open to the decrepit barn, and I found movement. One of Rattler’s brothers was standing by the door, smoking a cigarette. The cherry glowed red, and a line of smoke drifted against the darkness.
I was not sure what their real names were. I only knew that their family owned a cattle ranch. A wide creek separated their property from Watt Ranch.
The four brothers were almost identical looking. I was not sure what nickname belonged to which brother. I only knew the one who went by Rattler. Atta thought he was cute. I was not so sure. He had mean eyes.
He was dangerous, and perhaps this was what made her feel when nothing else could, not after she had lost so much.
Rattler’s brother narrowed his eyes against the truck when he noticed the lights. I turned them off, but the element of surprise was gone.
I should have turned them off.
Should have parked at the entrance of the drive.
Walked it by foot.
