Shaggy’s attention pings between us. He frowns and opens his mouth—probably to clarify who Reed and I are to each other—when Reed cuts him off.
“She’s my older sister, bro. Gross.” And with that, Reed storms through the apartment and into his room. I flinch when he slams his door.
“Shit.” Shaggy’s tan cheeks flame pink, and he rubs the back of his head. “Sorry. I just…”
“It’s fine.” Not really. I’m absolutely going to stare in the mirror after this in search of wrinkles. “And I appreciate the offer, but we’re good. Thanks again for all your help.”
He may have stepped in shit, but Shaggy knows a brush-off when he hears one. Good. I’m too tired to be tactful for long. In one final act of ill-advised bravery, Shaggy writes his phone number on the box beside him before he and his partner leave me surrounded by piles of cardboard and silence.
“Right.” I sigh, searching for the boxes labeledkitchen. “Guess I’d better start unpacking.” I know better than to ask Reed for help while he’s sulking about themomcomment. And fine, maybe I’m sulking a bit too.
This doesn’t seem like the best start to our life in a new town, in a new state, in a whole new part of the country. We haven’t seen much, but I can already tell the culture shock is going to be real. California and the Midwest feel like two different worlds.And we only have today to acclimate before I start my new job and Reed starts at his new school.
He’s not happy that he has to start three weeks into eighth grade, but he’ll adapt. He always does. It’s a skill we’ve both had to hone since losing our parents in a freak house fire while they were away on a weekend getaway to celebrate their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. They were so excited for that trip.
I wish I could go back in time and demand they stay home.
With a head full of worries, I open the first box labeledcleaning suppliesand get to work wiping down the countertops and cabinets. I scrub the sink and the fridge. When everything is as clean as I can get it, I slice through the tape on the box holding our pots and pans and begin unpacking.
Half an hour later, I’ve gotten most of the kitchen unpacked when Reed joins me. He doesn’t say a word, just tears open a box and begins to pull everything out. Ever since our parents died, he doesn’t say much, but I know this is my brother’s version of a peace offering. No matter how mad he is that we’ve moved halfway across the country, or how irritated he was to be mistaken for my son, we’re in this together.
Reed and I against the world.
“I thought we could explore our new city and grab some groceries after we’re done unpacking,” I say. “Maybe grab a pizza for dinner?”
“Sure.”
When Reed doesn’t stop to look my way, I reach over and mess up his short, caramel-colored curls. He swats my hand away, but his full lips quirk up at the corners when I chuckle. “I love you, you know.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He finally gives in and smiles. A real one. His warm brown eyes swing my way. “Love you too.”
I wrap an arm around his shoulder, startled to realize it’s not as easy to lean on him as it used to be. He’s getting taller. Mybaby brother is growing into a young man. “We’re going to be okay.”
“I know.” Reed wraps one arm around my waist for a moment, squeezing briefly before he shrugs out of my hold. He glances around the apartment and sighs at the piles of boxes we still have to get through. “Let’s get these done. I want to get out of here.”
The feeling’s mutual. This place is so much smaller than the home we’re used to. I’m feeling claustrophobic. “Tell you what. Let’s both unpack all our clothes and bedroom stuff, then we’ll go.”
“Deal.” Reed strides into his bedroom and gets to work. I take a moment to suck in a deep breath and center myself, then I do the same.
I can do this.
Ihaveto do this. There’s no other choice.
“What do you think?”I ask as we wander around downtown Minneapolis. It’s a bigger city than I was expecting, but everything feels so foreign. The architecture is a different style, there’s not a single palm tree in sight, and hell, even the clothes people wear are different. We’re not in Los Angeles anymore.
Reed grunts as he helps me load groceries into the trunk. “It’s not home.”
“Not yet.” I do my best to ignore the twisting in my stomach. “It will be, though. I just know it. At least we found a good pizza place, right?”
“Sure.” The eye roll punctuating Reed’s answer doesn’t even bother me, because I’m too lost in my own worries as I struggle to adjust to our new surroundings.
I wish we knew someone here. It’s not like we had a huge safety net or support system in California, but at least Reed had friends and teachers who knew all about his situation. If something came up, I could usually count on one of his friends letting him sleep over or being able to give him a ride to school in the morning.
We won’t have that here. I thought that wouldn’t bother me, because I’ve grown used to doing everything on my own. But what if I get sick or end up with a broken leg or something? What if I can’t take care of myself or him? What then?
“You okay?”
Reed’s gruff question snaps me out of my spiral and my chest squeezes when I focus on his worried amber eyes. I need to keep my shit together for my brother. He’s depending on me, and even though he hides his emotions well under a facade of teenage angst, I know he’s scared. Time to pull up my big-girl panties and be the adult.
