I nod, but my smile falters. “But I have to figure out what I want to study, so I know I’m choosing the right courses next year. And I don’t know… I havenoidea. I like everything.”
Silas huffs a quiet laugh. “You’re good at everything, too.” His eyes flick between mine as he thinks. “Tech?”
I nod vigorously. “Yes. Iloveanything tech. But I also like math. A lot.”
He rolls his eyes. “Weirdo.”
I shove him back, and he laughs, then I slide back down to the floor. He sits beside me with the comic still open on his lap.
“You have some time to think about it,” he says, then passes me a pencil and flips the book to a blank page for a new comic.
I take it from him with a nod and hover the pencil over the paper, ready to start something new. Something that’ll help us both.
But I feel the hesitation coming off him.
I turn my head and catch that distant look in his eyes again.
“Hey.” I nudge him with my elbow, and he blinks, focusing on me again. “What’s up?”
“You could do anything,” he says.
I frown, trying to read the shift in him. Then it hits me.
“And I can do anything at the University of Prince Edward Island,” I say.
He releases a small breath. “You could go anywhere.”
I lift a shoulder. “Maybe.” Then my eyes drop to the drawing of the sunset on the floor beside me—every line in it shaped by Silas’s hand, capturing the curve of the coastline and the glimmer of the light on each wave. The stillness and themovement of this place, perfectly captured in one image. “But I like it here.”
Silas doesn’t say anything, so I reach over and shove him just enough that he has to catch himself with one hand. His eyes spark with something lighter, and the corner of his mouth pulls up into a small smile.
“You and me, Si,” I say as he straightens up again.
He looks into my eyes for a moment, and I see the joy and ease creeping back in.
“You and me, Vi.”
FIVE
WE WERE ALMOST EIGHTEEN
I pullinto the driveway and wince as the truck shudders when I put it in park.
Levi snorts. “Still have some work to do, I see.”
I huff a laugh and kill the engine. “It’s a work in progress. Be patient.”
Even though I’ve been working on it for a year. But at least it runs now. Dad gave me this truck when I got my license, and while he offered to get me something new and reliable, I wanted this one.
This old, rusted, red truck was at the farm supply store for months, half-buried in snow as it sat abandoned and forgotten. I looked at it every time I went to the store with my dad or grandfather, and each time I became more curious. When I finally asked the store owner about it, he said he just hadn’t bothered getting it towed away yet.
But when I looked under the hood, I was surprised. I’d only worked on small engines before, like lawnmowers, tillers, and the broken snowblower in the garage. But I could tell this one still had life in it. So Dad towed it home, and Peter, one of the farm employees, helped me get it running again. I spent weeksworking on it every day after school, learning just what makes an engine run.
It still needs paint and other bodywork, and yeah… the engine still needs some work too. But it runs because I made it run. It just needed some care and attention.
As I climb out of the cab and spot Dad and Papa near the tractor garage across the lot, I immediately feel like I can breathe again. Because I’m finally home after a week at Mom’s.
And I hate that I feel this way.
