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BRYCE

The smell of mom's pot roast in the oven hit me as I swung open the front door. I kicked off my shoes and felt the familiar empty yearning that showed up whenever I parted from Juli. Time with her never felt like enough.

"Hey, Bryce." It was Granddad's faint voice. I turned the corner into the living room to see him sitting in his usual place. His expression was unreadable.

"Hey," I slid my heavy book-bag off and massaged the pinch of pain on my left shoulder.

"How was school?"

"Fine," I nodded. "I made football." Granddad smiled and let out a chortle. It was the happiest I'd seen him in a while.

"Bryce! That's fantastic!"

"I guess," I shuffled my feet, looking down at the hole in my sock.

"And I saw you walked home with Juliana."

"Yeah." I cleared my throat, trying my hardest to not seem smitten. It didn't appear to work.

"So it's been a good day," Granddad laced his fingers together.

"Yeah," I echoed.

"I was thinking- what say we go see a picture tonight? Just you and me... It can be a celebration! For you getting on the football team." I felt a rush of excitement. The preconceived idea of another boring evening in my room was wiped away.

"Okay," I could hear the eagerness in my voice, "Sure. Are Mom and Dad going to say it's okay?"

A self-assured smirk grew on Granddad's wrinkly face, "Maybe if we say we'll do our chores."

I laughed and pinched the bridge of my nose, "Sorry."

Granddad tapped the newspaper on the coffee table with his index finger. "They're showing Ben-Hur at The Empire at 7."

"My friend Paul mentioned that one," I said, remembering how envious I felt when he told me about his father taking him, another one of Mr. Mitchell's overzealous attempts to bond with his son. I pushed the thought away. "He said it was good."

"Good, then. After dinner."

"Okay," I gave him a big grin and picked up my knapsack, trekking upstairs.

I sat at my desk, my mind the farthest thing away from my topography homework. I watched the house across the street through my raindrop speckled window. Digging my nail into the eraser at the end of my pencil, I stared down at our driveway, the view only offering the back end of Mom's car. Dad's car wasn't there- he didn't come home until 5:30 on a normal day. But now I'd always be unsure if it was a normal day, or if he'd leave like he did before.

I felt like I was always fairly good with adjusting to change. When I had no control over something, why dwell over it? But as much as I could talk the talk, I couldn't walk the walk. It chilled me that now I would always come home and a little part of me would wonder if that morning was the last time I saw Dad.

Why did he leave? Was he ever going to even tell us?

And what made him come back?

I knew that no matter how much I dreamed about having a dad like Paul's, it wasn't going to happen. I couldn't expect people to behave a certain way just because I was hopeful they'd have a sudden change of heart. It was the truth.

Dad wasn't ever going to tell us. If he ever offered any kind of explanation to Mom, I doubted it was anything worth repeating. I didn't know if he came back because he actually missed us and wanted to try harder being a part of the family or just because he had nowhere else to go.

And what was the deal with Lynetta following in his footsteps? Those two never got along yet when things got tough, they both did the exact same thing. Left. As the days went on, I got more and more concerned for my big sister. She didn't even have to be home; I just at least wanted to see her at school. To see that she was still kicking. I never really had an opinion over how she wanted to take an extra semester of high school, but now I did- I was happy about it. Because if she had to start college the same week our father left us out of the blue, I was afraid she wouldn't be able to function. I barely was and I only started the ninth grade.

I sighed and looked down at my homework. I went over my name in the top corner, intricately thickening the pencil lines.

I felt strange. A part of me wanted Dad to be coming home every night just because it was what was "normal." But when things were normal, it drove me to go outside in the middle of the night and tap at Juli's window and sleep on her floor.

A glimpse of something outside my window caught my attention and I looked out of it again, seeing Juli saunter out of her house. Her mom followed, locking the front door. The two of them got into the car and silently whipped out of the driveway and out of my sight.

I bit the side of my cheek, deeming that everything else in the world was more interesting than my geography homework.

I suffered through it, only looking up when Juli's mom drove back home without Juli. Maybe she went to a friend's house.

Once I finished Geography, did my reading for History, and studied for English, I took a well deserved break and re-read one of my favourite comics.

Eventually, Mom called me for the pot roast I was nearly salivating for.

After helping Mom with setting out the plates, I settled down in my routine chair. Granddad, Mom, Dad, and I sat facing each other, the harsh buzzing of one of our neighbour's lawnmowers spilling through the open kitchen window.

Grandad spoke up, "Bryce and I are going to the cinema tonight."

"Oh," Mom's eyes traveled from Granddad to me, "That's exciting."

"Do you want to come?" I interrupted. I hoped Granddad didn't mind my sudden invitation.

"No, no," Mom cut into her roast beef, "I have so much to do. You two have fun."

I glanced down at my plate, ready to be chastised by Dad.

"Dad, do you wanna come?" My voice came out weaker than I expected. I looked at him from our side of the table as he shook his head silently as he drank his water, a condescending look on his face. An expression that said, What part of your brain convinced you that I'd want to something stupid like that?

"You know," Mom cut in, "I heard that popcorn becoming cinema food was actually really opposed at first."

"Theatres didn't like the mess," Granddad nodded his head, "Until they realized they could profit from it. Put all the popcorn street vendors out of business."

I chuckled, "No way."

There was a knock at the door. Actually, four knocks.

"Who could that..." Mom pushed her chair back.

"I'll get it," I sat up quickly, sending my fork clattering. I didn't know what made me so eager to see who it was. Until a second later, when I realized I just wanted to be far away from the awkward air of the dinner table.

"What, is he expecting someone?" I heard Dad mutter.

I got to the front door and swung it open.

It was Lynetta.

Her hair, the same colour as mine, was wiry and unkempt, making it look like she had just woken up. Her expression, however, said that she hadn't slept in ages.

"Hey, pipsqueak," she snorted. I smiled and stood in the doorway. "What, is there a secret password?" Lynetta stepped forward to try to pass me but I was so happy to see her that I impulsively pulled her in for a hug. She was stiff. "Relax, I didn't die."

I awkwardly stepped back and looked at her. She smirked for a second and pinched my nose.

"Ow," I said, more for effect.

"Missed you, too," she laughed. The smile disappeared once she pointed behind her to the driveway and whispered, "He's back?"

"Lynetta." The two of us looked at the end of the hall to see Mom smoothing down her dress.

"Hey," she casually said, "Smells good in here."

"Pot roast," I jumped in. I was suddenly acting like such an excitable kid. And I was afraid she'd turn right back around once I confirmed that Dad really was back.

"Boss." To my relief, she stepped out of her shoes. "I'm gonna go take a shower." Lynetta kissed her teeth, never one for stagnant conversations, and headed upstairs. Mom and I looked at each other. She looked as surprised as I imagined I did. I awkwardly stepped towards her and followed her into the dining room. Dad waited for Mom to sit down at the table before he asked who was at the door. She nervously fluffed the back of her hair.

"Lynetta," she answered. I apprehensively looked over at Dad to see his reaction, and could feel Mom and Granddad doing the same.

He opened his mouth, but only to put another uneven block of beef into it. The table was silent for a few seconds, until Mom got out of her seat again.

"Where are you going?" Dad asked, as if her getting up was the craziest thing in the world.

"To talk to her," Mom answered sternly. She walked out and left us to be completely silent yet again.

JULIANA

I was completely silent.

Aortic valve stenosis. That's exactly how Dad said it. And he probably repeated it in his head on his drive back from Devonhurst the same way I did as I lay in bed and stared at my ceiling. I went straight to my room once we got home from the dreadful ride from Sal's, frozen in my bed with my mind going a million miles a minute.

Fainting was an early symptom. It wasn't "probably just dehydration or something small" like the doctor said. And there was no reason for it. It was just something Daniel was born with. It didn't do anything to him while he was young but it was apparently bound to affect him when he got older.

And that was it. Just something he was born with. After the doctor listed off all the symptoms, he told Dad that this was common, but death from it was rare, especially after surgery. However, it could seriously affect Daniel's life, especially because of his already challenging condition. But they said they'd constantly be checking up on him. And if surgery was needed, they'd know right away.

When Dad picked me up from Sal's and told me, I wanted so badly to ask how Daniel acted. How he was dealing with it. But the exhausted look on Dad's face told me everything.

I could only imagine my uncle trying to make sense of being in a hospital bed, desperately wanting to leave. Getting tested and touched by all these strangers and watching his brother let it happen to him.

I lay in bed, turning over to curl up with my pillow. I kept trying to console myself the way Dad did. It was going to be fine. Anything really bad happening to Daniel was rare. All that was changing was that he couldn't exert himself too much. That was it.

But I couldn't shake the thought of how bad it really would affect him. He didn't need something like this on his plate. He didn't deserve it.

There was a knock on the door.

"Yeah?" My voice was groggier than expected. The door creaked open.

"Hi, sweetheart," Mom's voice was low. I felt my mattress sink as she sat behind me.

"Did you know?" I asked, feeling like I just wanted a reason to be angry.

Mom sighed, her hand warm on my back, "Your father told me it was something about his heart, then he left. I didn't want to tell you anything until we knew... everything. I didn't want you to get worried and think about it too much. But Dad wanted to pick you up so he could tell you. Properly. We know you're mature, and that you want to know the ins and outs of a situation. You got it from him."

I cracked a chuckle.

"But, you see? It's not serious. There's nothing to worry about."

"How do you know? How can you know for sure?" I could hear my voice getting whiny and hoped Mom didn't notice.

"Well." She paused. "You can't know anything for sure. But the odds are in our favour." I pressed the side of my face against the pillow and Mom's hand waned. "You need to eat."

I sighed and pushed myself to sit up.

Since Matt and Mark already ate and were having another "mega jam" at their friend Ken's house, whatever that meant, I sat at the dinner table across from Dad while Mom wiped down the counter. I had a feeling she was stalling so she could listen in on me and Dad's conversation. If we were even going to have one, that is.
I played with my food, feeling like I was about to cry. I kept telling myself it wasn't a big deal, but thinking it couldn't make me feel it.

I looked up to see Dad stabbing at his spaghetti. My stomach suddenly twisted with pain and grumbled a long, strained growl. I couldn't help but smile and Dad let out a breathy chuckle with his gaze still on his plate. Mom's back was turned to us, but I could see her shoulders erupting in little shakes.

"That sounded unhuman!" Dad exclaimed. I cupped my mouth and laughed. "Trina, exactly how sure are we that our daughter isn't a werewolf?"

Mom just turned and gave us a smirk.

"I didn't know I was that hungry," I shrugged and twisted my fork around my plate, still smiling.

"For people?" Dad replied.

"Dad, stop!" I chuckled. He gave me a grin and popped a heap of skinny noodles in his mouth. "You know that's only on full moons."

"You two," Mom sighed, placing a comforting hand on my back for a second as she passed by behind me, "What am I going to do with you?"

I brought my heavier fork to my mouth, chewing quickly and thinking about how thankful I was to have the parents I had.

After dinner, I sat on the porch swing alone, very slowly rocking myself back and forth. I stared at the house across the street. The living room light was on.

I didn't know how Bryce did it with the Dad he had. I was sure that more than half of my personality came from my Dad, and I couldn't imagine how Bryce was nothing like his. The amount of strength that must have taken astonished me.

My arms were folded, offering little protection for the autumn breeze that was rolling in. I felt a powerful sense of security. I felt like no matter what happened, I'd be fine. With the family I had, I would always be fine.

I eventually picked up the books on the bench beside me that I took out to study. After a while of reviewing, I heard quiet conversation nearby. I looked up to see Bryce and Chet walking in the dark on the opposite sidewalk.

Chet's steps were small with his usual relaxed stroll, and it was sort of funny and kind of peaceful to see Bryce walking that slow beside him. He was usually nearly sprinting everywhere. No wonder the football coach said he was a good runner.

Chet's hands were in the pockets of his white trousers and Bryce's were dangling beside him, only adding to his already lanky appearance. They walked towards their house, talking quietly amongst each other.

I was hoping they'd spot me. I hadn't seen Chet in forever. And I would be lying if I said seeing Bryce wasn't nice.

Sure enough, Chet's gaze turned my way and he stopped in his tracks, offering a friendly little wave across the empty street. I wasn't sure if he could see me smile, but I smiled anyway, and waved back. Bryce didn't notice and was a few steps ahead until he looked back to see his Granddad gesturing at me. I looked at Bryce, who dipped his head and probably laughed as he gave me a quick little wield of his hand.

They disappeared in the house and I felt a rush of joy to see them spending time together.

I eventually looked back down at my textbook. It was clearly interesting because after who knows how many hours, I was being shaken awake by Mom who ordered me to go to bed. I did as she said and slept like a rock.

The next morning, my walk to school was serene and I was appreciative to not be feeling anxious. Breakfast with Mom was nice- that is, after she asked more about Evan and I told her about our call-if-you-want-a-ride arrangement. I think she was relieved that I wouldn't be getting a drive from him every day. I didn't know if it was because she didn't like me with Evan or if she just didn't like me with boys.

The situation with Daniel had stopped worrying me. I knew he was going to be fine. Even though a tiny, microscopic part of me felt like I was just blindly hoping that opinion was fact, the rest of me felt sure he would be okay.

I enjoyed the time alone as I walked to school. It gave me a chance to regroup and have some time to myself at the beginning of the day. I didn't think I'd be calling Evan for a ride any time soon.

Once I arrived at the high school I was slowly getting used to, the bell rang for first period and I breathlessly made my way to class. As I double-dashed the stairs up to the second floor, I could have sworn I saw Lynetta Loski pass me, her blonde hair bouncing with her as she went down the steps.

I recalled to the last summer, when Bryce told me about his sister planning to stay an extra semester at Rockfield. It was such a small detail, but I remembered it because in that moment, strolling down Main Street on our bikes, I felt like I was watching a rare comet pass as Bryce openly talked about his family. It was only a few sentences, but he mentioned how his Dad opposed the idea as if 'Lynetta was asking to get a tattoo on her face.' He never talked about the mechanics of the Loski house, and I felt so out of the ordinary in that moment when he actually did.

I walked into class, a bit winded, trying to visualize the girl I just saw a few seconds ago. Was it actually Lynetta? It would make sense since she was planning to be here for an additional term. I figured I'd find out sooner or later.

Once the lunch bell rang, I walked towards my locker from class. My stomach grumbled and I smirked to myself as I remembered Dad's lame joke last night.

"What's got you so smiley?" I heard. I looked over to see Dana's bright face as she paced beside me.

"Hi to you, too," I replied.

"Is it Bryce?" She gasped, "I bet it's Bryce."

I threw my head back in laughter, "You are relentless."

"I'll happily be saying I told you so at your wedding," Dana answered. I rolled my eyes and put my hand up to signal her to stop, but she met it with a high-five and smugly laughed.

After dropping my ten-pound books off in my locker, we met up with the rest of our friends at our usual lunch table.

"Does it smell like corn to you?" Jane asked us as we settled down in our spots. I smirked.

"Is that code for something?" Dana said.

"If so, get a new code," Jessica added.

"No, I mean it," Jane comically sniffed the air, looking puzzled, "I smell corn." Jessica put the back of her hand to Jane's forehead.

"Have we lost her?" Allison asked.

"I'm afraid so," Jessica dramatically announced. I laughed and unwrapped my turkey sandwich, surveying the cafeteria.

I looked down the aisle of lunch benches and quickly noticed that, yes, Lynetta was here in Rockway High. And not only that. She was coming my way.