I was only a little surprised to find Thomas waiting for me outside in the school parking lot. He'd told me he wouldn't be coming home for another week at least, but it wasn't unlike him at all to lie about something like that. He liked surprises and, more than that, he liked surprising me. Always had.

He was leaning against his car, looking up at me with a smug smile on his face. I ran over with a grin of my own, wrapping my arms around him and pulling him into a hug. As soon as I let go, I hit his arm, "Liar."

"Hello to you too, Riley." he said, simply, rubbing the spot where I'd hit. His hair was a few shades lighter, and if I stared at him long enough, I could make out the bags under his eyes. It seemed college hadn't been treating him as well as he'd let on. He turned back to look at the Highschool and whistled. "Oh, the memories."

"All good ones, right?," I said, following his gaze. He was three years older than me, and he'd graduated nearly two years ago. Ever since he'd enrolled and started school in the next city over, he'd told me he was living the life. He'd moved out and into an apartment with two of his friends a while back, free from the constraints of our overprotective parents. He said he was living the dream.

Thomas chuckled, climbing into the driver's seat of his car while I ran around to the other side. As soon as I opened the door, he looked over at me and said, "yeah, most were good. You know, when I actually showed up for my classes."

I rolled my eyes, fastening my seat belt as he drove out of the parking lot and away from the school. I looked over at him and frowned, thinking about how long it'd been since I'd seen him in person. It'd only been a month and a half, but it felt like it'd been ages. I couldn't blame him for not wanting to come home all the time, though. I wouldn't want to either, not with our parents as they were.

"You should have heard mom and dad when I came home," Thomas said, shaking his head. "I walked in the door, and I must have been standing there for ten minutes before either one of them even noticed I was there. Just press the fricken button, Jeffrey. I did press the button, Janet."

I sighed, "Yeah, it's been getting worse."

"Maybe you should come stay with me for a while," he said, looking away from the road for a split second, giving himself just enough time to look over at me. "Just until mom and dad decide to put on their big girl panties and sign the papers."

I snorted, nodding, "Yeah, that'd be cool."

He smiled, reaching over and ruffling my hair, "See, that's what I thought, too. I'm close enough that you won't need to change schools, but far enough that you won't have to listen to them anymore. And one of my roommates just moved in with his girl, so there's an extra room. Win, win."

The drive home wasn't as long as I'd wanted it to be, but it was just long enough for Thomas to tell me all about how badly he was failing his third semester of college. As I climbed out of his car at the bottom of our driveway, I clicked my tongue against my teeth, looking over at him, "you going to tell them?"

"Not even for a thousand bucks," he said, looking right back at me. "And you better not tell them, either."

I held up my hands, "hey, that's your fight, not mine.

He nodded, and I followed him over to the front door. As soon as he unlocked it and pushed it open, I heard the voices. I stepped inside and slipped my shoes off of my feet, poking my head around the corner and looking at my parents, who stood in the kitchen arguing over a full bag of garbage that sat next to the back door. I sighed, first sharing a look with Thomas, and then I clearing my throat.

Instantly, both of them looked our way, their jaws dropped and mouths forming small o's, looking guilty in a way that didn't suit adults. I forced a smile, suddenly feeling both tired and annoyed. "We're home."

"Oh," my mom said, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear and forcing a smile. A few feet away from her, my dad sighed, but said nothing. "How was school?"

I swallowed, adjusting the strap of my backpack. It felt as though it were weighing down in my shoulders, far heavier than it'd been only moments before. Just like that, I felt small, as though I were being pushed down to a new height. "Good. Boring. The usual."

She nodded, moving to stand next to the stove. "I, uh, was thinking pasta for dinner. What do you think about that?"

Beside me, Thomas grinned. "Only if there's tomato sauce."

She laughed, still facing the cupboards rather than the two of us. With a nod, she said, "we knew you were coming. Of course, we have tomato sauce."

I started walking towards the stairs, tapping Thomas' shoulder as I did. My mother's voice sounded again, though I wasn't looking at her this time. "As if we'd forget about that. You used to eat that stuff for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Like soup."

"Not true," he scoffed. "Not for breakfast, anyway."

I snorted, already halfway up the stairs. When I made it to my room, I dropped my bag on the ground and collapsed on my bed, eyes half shut and breathing harder than I should have been. I heard Thomas' feet shuffle against the carpet as he walked past my closed door, making his way towards his own. Since he'd left, our parents hadn't changed a thing. The only difference between what his room had looked like before he left and what it looked like now was that it was emptier. He'd taken most of his things with him when he'd left, and it seemed as though every time he came home, there was less of him there.

It made me wonder if, maybe, he was getting ready to not have to come home at all.

It was only a few hours later that my mom texted me to call me down for dinner, and I opened my door just in time to see my brother shuffle past in front of me. We made our way downstairs, to where dad was sitting in front of the T.V., a bowl of pasta on his lap and the remote in his hand. Mom was standing in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of wine.

Thomas was first to the stove, giving himself one measly scoop of pasta and filling the rest of the bowl with sauce. I laughed when he moved towards the living room, and he did nothing but shrug.

I dished out a bowl of my own, sliding onto one of the barstools next to my mom. I leaned over and tapped her shoulder with my own, and she smiled, swirling the red liquid around in her glass. The four of us ate in silence, with nothing but the T.V. speakers to lessen the quiet.

Eventually, Thomas spoke up. He'd never been one for silence; it was as though his mouth was incapable of staying shut. "I got a job."

"Really?" Dad said, turning away from the T.V. and towards him. Thomas nodded, swirling his fork around in the sauce that was left in his bowl. "Where?"

"A restaurant on campus. I'm only a dishwasher for now, but the manager said there's room to move up."

"That's good," Mom said, her voice carrying through the rooms. "You'll get some kitchen experience."

"Yeah, that's the thought." Thomas nodded. Despite the fact he looked nothing like someone who'd be interested in cooking, Thomas was in culinary school, learning how to work in a kitchen.

Outside, the sun was nearing the top of the mountain, and it was getting dangerously close to dusk. Within the hour, our parents would double check the fence locks and bolt the house doors, and Thomas and I would be confined to these very walls until morning. It was a routine I was used to, as I should be, being as they did it every night. Over the years, I'd come to realize it wasn't normal, but I hadn't known that when I was a kid. As a girl, I'd always thought that was just what parents were supposed to do. I'd thought all houses were meant to have 7-foot fences and steel bolts on every door.

I hadn't realized it was strange until I was old enough to notice ours was the only house on the block with a burling fence around the property. As far as I knew, the only other place in town with something like that was Hermit Harmond's house, and well, he was called Hermit Harmond for a reason.

As I stood to put my dishes in the washer, Thomas came up behind me, leaning over my shoulder to do the same. "Want to go throw some balls before it gets dark?"

I nodded sharply, looking back towards dad, who was still stationed on the couch in the living room. He didn't like us going outside this close to nightfall, even if it was our own backyard. Once, when I'd been barely eight years old, he'd caught Thomas and I lying on the grass watching the sky darken, and he'd grounded the pair of us for a whole week.

I'd asked him what was so bad about night once before, but I'd never gotten a straight answer. At least, not one that made a lot of sense. "It's dangerous," he's said. "Too dangerous." My mom had said nearly the same thing.

Outside, Thomas fished a pair of gloves and a baseball from the storage box that lined the side of the house. He handed the smaller of the two to me before running over to the other side of the yard.

Above us, the sky had turned to shades of orange and pink, fluffy white clouds scattered across it. Somewhere in the neighbourhood, I could hear a little girl laughing, probably playing in the front yard of her home. Thomas tossed the ball at me, and I caught it before throwing it back. He'd played baseball as a kid, so he was a lot better at it than I was, but over the years it'd become something of a tradition. There weren't many things that we had in common, aside from sharing the same shade of honey brown hair and genes, so it was nice.

"Tell me about school," Thomas said. "How's soccer going?"

"Fine," I said, catching the ball again. I threw it back, and he caught it just to his left. "I have a game next Saturday against the Vipers."

"Vipers," Thomas repeated. "That's the Tellerfield High team, right? Are you playing at their field?"

"Yeah," I nodded.

He grinned, "That's, like, two minutes away from the college. I'll come watch."

"Okay," I said, smiling back. Behind me in the house, I could hear our parents talking, just loud enough that it was audible through the closed doors. I couldn't tell if they were yelling, and I couldn't hear the words, more than anything, it sounded like mumbling.

The sky had faded from the painted colours, and had now turned into a greyish blue, dangerously close to black.

Thomas followed my eyes to the sky, clicking his tongue against his teeth, "I never understood their problem with nighttime."

"That makes two of us."

It wasn't long after that that someone pushed the door open behind me, and our dad stepped out onto the porch, his glasses hanging halfway down his nose as he looked down at the pair of us in the yard. Thomas caught the ball just as he spoke up.

"Time to come in," Dad said, simply.

Thomas sighed, "Come on, dad. We'll head in in a bit."

"It'll be dark soon, you know the rules." Dad said. His voice had gone stern, though he wasn't looking at either of us. He was looking towards the streets, over the fence.

"Come on, Thom." I said, pulling the glove off my fingers and moving back towards the storage box. "Let's go."

With a sigh, my brother followed suit, and the pair of us went back inside without a word. I spared a glance back towards my dad, who was still standing in the open doorway, looking out across the fence.