Chapter OneKami
It had been two weeks since the cold in Carsville had settled in, wiping out any last traces of summer, any warm sunlight, leaving us with torrential rains, tornado warnings, and few reasons to go out and enjoy ourselves. But then I didn’t have money to do anything anyway. Dad’s situation was only getting worse. I would’ve done anything to spend an evening in town, dropping by Mill’s and having a strawberry shake or a coffee and a chocolate muffin…but I could forget that. I didn’t even have a car anymore.
At least I could still look out my window. But even that was a double-edged sword. Because I couldn’t stop following the movements of the girl who had been there for half an hour, passing Thiago his tools and showing off her long legs in a miniskirt.
It was fifty-two degrees out. Wasn’t she cold?
And where had this girl come from? How had he met her?
She was pretty, I couldn’t deny that. Her hair was long and dark, her eyes blue, I was pretty sure. She was standing far away, but there had been a second when she’d turned, and in that same second the one ray of sunlight we’d seen that day had broken through the clouds, reflecting the light in her eyes. Damn it. Shewas beautiful. Tall, thin, perfect.
This naturally made me think of my own appearance. Five-five, shoulder-length blond hair starting to fade to a dusty brown since I hadn’t seen the beach in months… I felt like a damn frog compared to her.
Those hands… Hands now wrapped around the girl’s waist, but two weeks ago those hands had been all mine, in Thiago’s car in the middle of a storm. If I closed my eyes and remembered it, my heart started racing, my body got hot, and my thighs squeezed together involuntarily. My mind flashed back to that day as I imagined what would have happened if we’d done more than kiss; what it would have felt like to have his hands on my skin, my breasts, his fingers giving me pleasure, his eyes on mine, our bodies joined together…
Someone knocked on my door and killed the fantasy.
“Kamila, your father and I want to talk to you,” my mother said, peeking in. “Come down to the living room please.”
She closed the door, and I heard her walk downstairs. I looked out the window; there was Thiago kissing her…
Something ached inside me. I don’t know what it was. My heart was bleeding with lovesickness or desire or I don’t know what. I was hurting. Bad.
I closed my curtains and stood.
What did my parents want now?
For weeks, I’d been shut up in my room, blasting music so I wouldn’t have to hear them shouting, trying to flee far away in my mind.
Taylor had tried to get me out a few times. He had driven me to Stony Creek to catch a movie or just sit at Starbucks and chat for a few hours. We were getting closer and closer by the day, and I felt an almost addictive need for his company, his kisses, the way he cared for me and made me laugh.
I don’t know how he did it, but every time we were together,he just made our problems disappear. I even forgot about Thiago when I was with him. It was like nothing existed except for Taylor and Kami, best friends forever…or a little more than that.
And yet, when he wasn’t with me, I couldn’t help but feel split in two. My heart wanted one guy, but I was hungry for another one…and that made me feel like the worst person in the world.
I went downstairs and into the living room. My mom was sitting on the couch facing the fireplace, which we’d started to use in the last two weeks. It was crazy that, just like that, the good weather was over and there was a fall chill in the air.
My brother, Cameron, was splayed out on the other sofa, absorbed in his Nintendo Switch, the sound ofSuper Mario Partyfilling the room. He had been standoffish as hell the past few days. He didn’t want anyone to hug him, he didn’t want to play in the yard, he just spent all his time there in front of the TV, playing video games, or watching cartoons. I could hardly remember the little six-year-old tadpole who used to be able to turn my mood around in an instant no matter how upset I was.
“So what’s up?” I asked my parents, settling down next to Cameron.
Dad had been stacking logs beside the fireplace. He stood up straight, put the tongs aside, and looked at us and then at Mom, who announced, “Kids, your father and I are getting a divorce.”
My mind froze at the same time Cam hit mute on the Nintendo and the entire room went silent.
“What?” I asked once I’d recovered somewhat from the blow.
I got it: My parents fought. My mom was unbearable. But they loved each other, didn’t they? They’d even gotten over her having an affair. Dad was someone who knew how to forgive, or so I thought…
“We’ve been talking it over, and we don’t think it’s healthy foryou two to live in an environment where two people are fighting all the time,” Dad said.
“Younever fight,” I reminded him. “It’s always her.”
Fear, rage, and impotence were boiling up inside me, and I felt like a pressure cooker about to explode.
“Kamila!” Mom shouted indignantly. “This isn’t some kind of joke, and you don’t get to have a say! Sometimes, love runs out and—”
“Oh, please!” I cut her off, standing up. “Don’t come at me with thislovebullshit. It has nothing to do with love running out. It’s the money!”
