Page 253 of Red Marked

“I am sure. I’m fine, I swear.”

We say our goodbyes and hang up. I put my phone on the desk and open the next email.

I am a little sad. Watching her go was hard. Harder than I thought it would be.

But I’ll be okay.

I always am.

Star

I come in over the same neighbor’s roof I flew over the other day.

The hatchback with the dent in the fender is in the driveway, and Koda is walking toward it with his keys in his hand. He stops when he sees me approaching. He lifts a hand to shade his eyes and takes one step forward, exactly like last time.

This time, I don’t turn away.

I drop over the back fence and land on the lawn where I once told him not to be scared of his first shift. I let go of the bag I’ve been carrying in my talons, shift, and pull the T-shirt over my head.

The side gate bangs.

He comes around the house at a flat run and stops three feet from me. His chest is heaving. His mouth is open. He’s taller than Dad now. His eyes are filling up.

“Star?”

“Hey, Koda.”

That’s as far as I get. He grabs me and lifts me clean off the grass, and I hold on with both arms around his neck and cry into his hair. He’s crying too.

“I knew it,” he says into my shoulder. “I knew it was you. The other day when I saw you. It was you, wasn’t it? You were here.”

“I know. I was here. I’m sorry I couldn’t see you.”

“I knew it.” He puts me down but doesn’t let go. “I told Dad, but he told me that it wasn’t you. That I was seeing what I wanted to see. He said not to say anything to Mom, that it would upset her. I knew it was you.”

“You were right.”

He laughs. It’s wet and wobbly. He wipes his face with the back of his hand, and then he grabs my hand and pulls me toward the house.

“Are they home?” I ask.

“They’re both inside. Come on. Come on! Mom is going to lose her shit!”

“Language, Koda.”

“I’m not a little kid anymore. I can say shit.”

I laugh, and he joins in.

We go in through the back door. Mom is at the counter with a dish towel over her shoulder. She turns around, and the towel slides off and lands on the floor. She makes a weird sound, and her eyes go wide.

“Star?” she says. “Star?” She covers her mouth.

Dad comes in from the living room at the sound and stops in the doorway. He goes white. He has to put a hand on the frame to hold himself up.

Then Mom is across the kitchen, and her hands are on my face, both of them, holding it, and she’s kissing my cheeks, my forehead, my cheeks again, and saying my name over and over. Dad’s arms come around both of us from behind, and the three of us stand in the middle of the kitchen with Koda hovering, and nobody lets go for a long time.

“How?” Dad’s voice is thick, and he has to clear his throat. “How is this possible? How?”