Lucy (17)

"This is a disaster!"

"Luce, calm down. It's just a B."

"Yes, and when my parents, especially my dad, find out, they will-"

"What? Grounding you?"

Beau's amused laugh through the phone doesn't help calm my nerves.

"That's not funny, Beau!"

"Gee, Lucy, it's just math. Besides, the thought of my bad girl going to be under arrest is exciting."

"You're an idiot," I say and roll of my eyes, but I can't hide the smile, which he notices, of course.

"Anytime, just for you."

Just as I'm about to give him a peppery answer, I hear the rumbling from our house, followed by my father's angry voice.

"Beau . . . I have to hang up. Something is happening here."

"What do you mean? Is everything okay? Shall I come over?"

"I'll call you back."

"But-"

Without letting him finish, I end the call and enter our house. The mood is . . . different. Not normal. Scary. I've only experienced this atmosphere once before, when my brother . . .

I run into the living room. Mom is sitting in an armchair, she was crying. Dad walks around the room, cursing alternately in Chinese and Korean. Something he only does when he's really angry.

"Mom, Dad! What's going on?"

Dad doesn't seem to hear me, but Mom turns to me. "Oh, Lucy, it's terrible. We've just found out . . . your brother . . ."

"Michael? What about him? Dad?!"

Dad turns around, breathing heavily. "We got a call from the military school. Your brother disappeared last night, he ran away."

"What . . .?" I'm not surprised, I'm just wondering why he stayed there for so long. "Did he leave a message? Where is he now?"

The doorbell interrupts me, freezing us all for a moment. Dad turns to the window, his face darkening even more, which shouldn't be possible. "No!"

I follow his gaze, my breath hitches.

"Lucy, you won't-" Dad begins, but I don't listen to him anymore, run to the front door, open it, all just to hug my big brother as quickly as possible. "Michael!"

He smiles. "Hey, little sis." His voice is still the same, but his looks are not. His hair is short, so much shorter than I remember it. Probably a consequence of military school.

"What on earth are you doing here?" My father's voice is cold, tense. Michael lets go of me, looks at our parents for a long time. "Hello, father, how nice to see you again." He turns to Mom. "Mom?" But she looks away.

"What do you want here, Michael? You know the school called us, don't you? How can you throw away the only chance to make something of your life?"

"Yes, Dad, you're right, I'm the problem. You could have had a little faith in me, but no, it is so much easier to send the son away than to face reality. What did you tell your colleagues, huh? That I'm in China, Korea or Japan? And on my way to becoming a first-class cellist? Did you tell them something like that, so you wouldn't have to endure the shame?"

"How dare you talk to your father like that?"

"Father? Oh yeah, sure. You're a great father. No, really. I have full respect for you. After all, it takes a lot of grit to deny your own son."

"You're right, you're still my son. And that's why I'm offering you one last solution; stay here and learn from me. You can save your talent, you can make something of your life. You just have to-"

Michael laughs. "You still don't get it, do you, Dad? I don't want to learn to play the cello. I will go somewhere where I can be myself."

"Then why did you come here? If you want money-"

"Oh, don't worry, Dad. I don't need your money. I only came here to see Lucy one more time and to say goodbye to her."

"You should leave your sister alone. Oh, I really don't know what we did wrong with you. Why couldn't you be more like Lucy?"

My heart stops beating. Now he's going to tell them. He has to tell them, he has no other option. But as much as this thought scares me, it also brings me relief. Finally, there would be an end to all these secrets.

Michael looks at me for a long time. Now he's going to say it. But then –

"Well, not everyone can be so perfect like Lucy."

What is he doing? Why doesn't he just tell the truth?

"But-" I begin, but he looks at me sharply. A clear warning.

"I guess that's true," Dad replies. "So you've made your choice?"

Michael nods. "I did."

"Then you are no longer my son."

"Dad!" I say, indignant and frightened at the same time. He can't do that. This can't happen.

They look at each other in silence for several seconds.

"Goodbye, Michael," Dad finally says, turning around and going back into the house. Michael looks at Mom. She hesitates.

"Mom . . .?"

She shakes her head, tears slowly running down her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Michael. But I can't." And with that, she also disappears into the house. Shocked, I stare after them, unable to believe what has just happened. I can see how hard it is for Michael to fight back his disappointment. He looks at me. "Only the two of us."

Sad, shocked, and angry, I hug him one last time.

"Lucy!" my father's stern voice comes out of the house. Reluctantly, I want to get away from my brother, but he holds me tight, and whispers in my ear, "Tonight, eight o'clock."

Before I can ask what he means by that, my father calls for me again. At the front door, I turn around. Michael smiles confidently, at least he tries to, and I know that I will miss his smile terribly.

I feel like I haven't slept a wink all night, but the clock in the room proves me wrong. It's already late morning. Yawning, I get up, think about whether I should change, but then decide against it. After all, I'm on vacation, right? So I left the room in my old, faded boxers and my beloved black t-shirt. The first thing that strikes me is the silence in the house. There are no ominous noises coming from their bedroom – or from the bathroom – gosh – but I don't hear any voices from downstairs either. I enter the kitchen, it smells like breakfast. But I just make myself a cup of black tea with lemon and then walk over to the living room. There I meet Camille, who has curled up on the couch with a blanket, reading a book. Wait . . . what? No, my eyes don't deceive me. But before I can ask, she notices me and smiles. "Morning, Lucy. Logan and I already had breakfast, but we left you some toast and eggs."

"Thanks, that's nice, but I think I'd rather stick to my tea. I don't feel very hungry."

She nods and I sat down in an armchair with my cup. "What's the deal with the book?"

"It's part of a compromise Logan and I have. I always make him do things he doesn't like. You know, like going shopping, yoga-"

"I've never seen Logan do yoga."

"He doesn't want others to know. But don't worry, while we're here, you'll definitely get the opportunity to see it."

"Can I film it?"

"I wouldn't mind. But I think Logan would."

"Where are the hordes of paparazzi when you need them," I murmur, and Camille laughs. "Anyway, since it would be unfair to let him just do my stuff all the time, we agreed that I would try things that he liked."

"So . . . reading?"

"Yes. I mean, it's not that I don't like reading, I just prefer to do other things."

"I get that." There is a pleasant pause in which I try to imagine how Logan would look like doing yoga. That thought amuses me. "Speaking of Logan, where is he?"

"Out, going for a morning run."

I choke on my tea and have to cough. "Out, really? You mean outside, in the wilderness? Isn't he more like an indoor-cat?"

She smiles in amusement. "You know he goes camping, right?"

"Yeah, no, still having trouble to believe that."

"Oh, you'd be surprised. I mean, you're right, about ninety-five percent of his life is spent indoors. But when he decides to do outdoor-activities, he's a whole different person."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I think I first noticed it when I came to Minnesota with him. There is something that makes him . . . wilder, more adventurous. You know what I mean?"

"No."

"Anyway, there's a lot more in Logan than you think. But maybe you'll get a chance to see that for yourself during our trip."

"I don't think I'll ever see Logan in a different light. He's so . . . Logan, you know?"

She smiles mysteriously. "We'll see about that," she says, then turns back to her book.

"How does he know that you're actually reading the book?"

"Sorry?"

"I mean, this is Logan we're talking about. I wouldn't be surprised if he asked you questions about the book, you know, like in school."

"No, he says he trusts me."

"Do you mind if I watch some TV?"

"No, go ahead."

It takes another hour before Logan returns. He's rubbing his hands as he walks into the living room.

"Man, it's chilly out here in the morning." He walks over to Camille, but when his hand touches her cheek, she squirms slightly and lets out a shrill sound. "Ew, you're cold . . . and you smell sweaty."

I laugh.

"Well, I guess a hot shower will help, right?"

"Agreed."

He looks at her expectantly, but she continues reading her book. Interesting situation.

"Wanna join me?"

She thinks about it, or at least acts like she thinks about it. Then she shakes her head. This is far more exciting than the television program.

"No, I think I'd rather stay here and wait for you."

"Oh . . ." he mumbles disappointedly and heads towards the stairs. But he stops again and turns around. "Are you sure-?"

"Absolutely."

He nods and goes upstairs. The situation seems quite surreal, especially since Camille wasn't cold, offended, or angry. She spoke in her usual cheerful tone the entire time. I wait until I hear rushing water from above, then I ask my question, "What the hell was that?"

"Do you remember what we talked about yesterday?"

"Yes, of course."

"I want to make it clear to him that he is not always the one who decides what should happen. If I want to keep him company, then it will be my decision, not his."

"Makes sense."

"He takes a pretty long shower, doesn't he?" I notice after a while.

"I can tell you why."

"Yeah?"

"He's still hoping that I'll follow him."

"Do you want me to go upstairs and give him the news?"

She laughs. "No. Sooner or later he'll understand."

"You mean after we run out of hot water?"

"I'll make it up to him later. But on my conditions."

"I like that," I say approvingly. "What's your plan?"

"Let's just say, I'll try to bring out his wild side."

Lomille

"Am I now allowed to get under the blanket with you?" Logan asks once he's back in the living room, and after accepting the fact that Camille wouldn't show up . . . which took him longer than he expected.

"Of course," Camille replies, beaming, and makes room for him. He lies down next to her, ignoring her satisfied smile. "So, what are you girls talking about?"

"Um . . ."

"Camille was about to tell me about your trip to Minnesota."

Logan raises his eyebrows. "Really? How did you come up with that?"

"We were talking about past trips, and she mentioned it."

"Yeah," Logan says with a sigh. "That was . . . it didn't go as planned."

"Why? What happened?" Lucy asks curiously. Logan looks at Camille questioningly. "You didn't tell her?"

"I haven't gotten to the details yet."

Logan thinks for a moment, then he nods. "Good, 'cause she doesn't need to know."

Lucy clears her throat. "First of all, she is sitting right here. And secondly, she won't stop asking until she knows everything."

"Okay," Camille says casually, "we were-"

"No, I want to hear it from him."

Logan rolls his eyes. "You're probably the most annoying person I've ever met."

"I'll take that as a compliment. Go ahead, talk."

Logan sighs deeply. "I don't know what to tell you. We had planned to have a good time. I was happy to be home and even happier that my lovely girlfriend was with me." He gives Camille a smile and she kisses him on the cheek.

"Anyway, we were glad to finally have a few days off, 'cause we had to work a lot in the weeks before the trip and hardly had any time for . . . private things."

"Okay, go on."

"I was really looking forward to showing her around. We were in all the places that were important to me, and-"

"Sorry, but if you're going to list all the places . . . if that doesn't have anything to do with the story, maybe we could get to the interesting details?"

Logan looked at Camille. "Did you hear that? She's the worst."

"Yeah, I am. Now get to the point."

"Well, being out there again, seeing the whole area, I kind of got . . . excited."

For some reason, Lucy and Camille exchange a meaningful look. Logan has a strong feeling that he's missing something, that he's being excluded. But he ignores this negative feeling, and continues, "We were in a place that seemed abandoned and . . . well, I already said that we haven't been intimate in a while . . . so we thought-"

"Wait, that's it? You guys secretly made out in public? I was expecting more than that."

"He's not finished yet," Camille interjects with a grin. Lucy raises her eyebrows. "I'm listening."

Logan sighs deeply, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. "Well, we thought we were alone, but turns out we weren't. Long story short, the police officer was just as surprised as we were."

"Uhhh, yeah, that's a good story."

"Tell her."

"Do I have to?"

"If you don't do it, I will."

"Fine . . . it wasn't just any police officer, it was . . . Carlos's dad."

"No way!"

"I don't think I've ever been so embarrassed before."

"What happened next?"

"Well, after making several jokes about how he could give us a ride to my parents' house in his patrol car, he finally let us go, but he had to promise me that he wouldn't tell anyone. Well, we went to the house, didn't tell my parents about the embarrassing mishap, had dinner and went to bed, that's it."

"You forgot to tell her that after we went to bed, we had the best se-"

"That's really none of her business," Logan says loudly to stop Camille from saying anything more. Lucy giggles in amusement. "Thanks, guys. You just made my day." She thinks. "You know what, I can almost feel a wave of creativity coming over me. Maybe I can use your experience to write a new song."

"If you do that, I swear I will-" Logan begins, but Lucy waves him off and goes upstairs, still laughing. Logan looks at Camille. "She's the worst."

"But it was good to see her laugh again."

Logan mumbles something to himself, and nods. Camille raises a hand and strokes his hair. "Stop that frown, will you?" she says with a smile. "I have a surprise for you."

His mood changes. "Really? What is it?"

"Oh, I didn't say now. You have to wait a little longer."

"That's not fair."

"Your patience will be rewarded, I promise."

Logan is silent for a few seconds. "How long do you think she'll stay upstairs?"

"I don't know. Why are you asking?"

"Well, as embarrassing and unpleasant this story is . . . it still has a positive effect," he says with a grin, and under the blanket, his hand moves away from its place on her stomach and moves up to her chest. Camille giggles. "You can't be serious."

"Try me" he replies mischievously. But before something happens, Logan's phone vibrates in the pocket of his shorts.

"Ignore it," Camille murmurs into his neck. Logan hesitates. "Let me check who it is."

And to Camille's dismay, he actually pulls out his cell phone.

"It's Carlos."

"You can call him back." She wants to pull him back, but he stops her gently. "I'll make this quick."

"Yeah, sure," Camille replies, annoyed. Logan accepts the call. "Carlos? What's going on?"

"Seriously, Logan?! My dad caught you and Camille making out in public in Minnesota?!"

"Wait, how did you . . .? . . . Lucy!"

A roar of laughter comes from the upper floor.