Kohen: Age 7—Blaze: Age 6
She’s going to love this. I just know it.
Blaze always uses her weak little arms to hit the other boys on the playground, but she never does much damage since she’s all skin and bone. I’m scared she might break something if she keeps attacking people and climbing trees when she thinks no one is looking.
Thatis why this is the perfect gift for her. I spent all week thinking about what to get her after she bruised herself punching a kid three grades higher than her.
My skin grows colder and prickly the closer I get to her house. I didn’t even know she lived so close to me. Hopefully, she’s home—I mean, I at least hope this is where she lives. Last week, I saw her walking down a long gravelly driveway and guessed it led to her house.
Mom was driving so fast that I missed the house number, but I saw her. I’ll always see her, even from a mile away. She’s so pretty with her messy red hair and tiny fists. It’s annoying though. She still hasn’t figured out her thumb needs to gooverher fingers. Not under. Maybe I can teach her how to throw a proper punch tonight.
Mom and Dad left at five to have dinner and watch a show with my brother, Kiervan, and they’ll be gone for hours, so I’ll have plenty of time to spend with Blaze. They wouldn’t be taking Kiervan to the movies if they saw what he did to the dead mouse last week. But if they find out I’m doing this, they’ll ground me for life. Then Kiervan will laugh and blame more things on me so our parents can pat his head while locking me in my room.
Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I eye the sun that’s setting way too fast, then look both ways before sprinting across the road, carefully holding the backpack to my chest so I don’t drop her present and ruin it before giving it to her.
The last time I gave her a gift, she took the pencil case with her trembling hands. She didn’t say thank you or anything, but didn’t give me her dead eyes, which was super cool.
This time, I’msureshe’s going to smile at me. And then once I know how to make her smile, I’ll make her do it over and over until she’s sick of me.
She’d better not smile at anyone else but me.
My chest feels all funny as I tug on the collar of my sweatshirt. This was such a stupid idea. Yesterday, we didn’t have to wear a uniform, and Blaze came to school wearing a red top. This hoodie is the only red thing I own, and I can’t even fit in it anymore; it’s too tight.
It’s too late. I’m here now—I think.
The trees surrounding her house seem bigger up close. They aren’t nice and cleanly cut like where I live. There’s no way my family would ever let this many leaves sprinkle over our driveway. Blaze should really get a better gardener.
Music pulses through the air, a low vibration that grows louder and clearer the closer I get. Then it stops, only to be followed by someone droning through the speakers about a sale going on for a pair of tires. Do Blaze’s parents let her listen to the radio this loud? That might be why she’s always yelling.
My eyebrows knit together when a building comes into view, and I stop midstep.
This can’t be right. This can’t be where Blaze lives.
But Iswearthis is the same driveway I saw her walk up.
The house looks like it’s from a scary movie. The paint is stripped away from the edges, and planks have fallen to the ground. The ground is littered with empty wrappers and glass bottles. Vines grow up the side of the house, and one of the windows on the bottom floor has a big crack going through it. The wood holding up the deck roof is splintered, poking out of the house at an angle, looking like it’ll snap at any second. There’s even a small fire in the middle of the lawn. What even is this place?
Narrowing my eyes, I spot the red-haired doll she brought to school last year sitting on the windowsill. Maybe this is like a pool house or something.
A man stumbles out the front door that is broken off its hinges. He takes two steps, then tumbles down the stairs, falling face-first onto the grass. A groan passes his lips, but he doesn’t get off the ground. Gripping my backpack, I edge closer to the house, watching for any sign of movement between the surrounding trees. It’s hardto tell how many people are inside because all the curtains are closed, but I can hear the adults talking and laughing.
I hear glass shattering and I freeze. Shaking my head, I shuffle closer. Will her parents kick me out? They could be having a dinner party, and they may not want guests. Mom doesn’t let Kiervan have any of his friends over whenever they do. Blaze’s mom might not want that either.
A branch snaps to my left, and I whip my attention toward the noise, catching sight of a dash of red. I take in a deep breath as my blood rushes to my ears. I knew she wouldn’t be in the house when so many people were there.
“Blaze,” I call quietly.
Jumping off the main path, I wipe my sweaty hands on my jeans. I have to lift my legs higher to cut across the grass to get to the part of the forest where there are only weeds, trees, and mud.
I call her name again, carefully pulling out the gift from my backpack. I’ve had to hide it from everyone in my house all week.
My clammy fingers tighten around it. What if Blaze doesn’t like it?
No—there’sno wayshe won’t like it. I spent so many nights under my blanket, flashlight on, trying to make it special for her. It’s going to be her favorite thing. Ever. She might even ask for another. Maybe a bigger one—one that isn’t plain brown but has big red and black stripes.
“What are you doing here?” Blaze’s voice carries through the still air and tickles my ears. She isn’t much of a talker, but her voice is my favorite sound.
I open my mouth to speak just as I turn to look at her, only for nothing to come out. She pales to bleach white as her bright blueeyes swing from me to my hand, then back to me. I dig my nails into my palm.
