Where We Used to Roam by Jenn Bishop (sites to read books for free .TXT) 📕

Austin and that weird feeling I’d had earlier. Both Mom’s and Dad’s cars were in the driveway now, and the house was all lit up, like normal. It was unfair, really, how outsides and insides could tell such different stories.

“There’s a new Studio Ghibli movie opening on Friday,” Lucy said. “Want to go? I bet my sister could take us. She loves their stuff. Plus, last time, she took me and Ken to the theater in Brookline and it’s next to a place with the best Nutella-banana crepes on the planet.”

My stomach grumbled yes for me. Lucy grinned. “Okay, I’ll text her and Ken.”

“Sounds good,” I said, reaching for the door handle. “Thanks for the ride!” I told Lucy and her stepdad.

Heading toward my house, my breath little dragon puffs in the cold air, I suddenly remembered how Lucy had been trying to say something while Kennedy was going on and on about the baby blanket. It was hard for her to get a word in sometimes. Kennedy could just talk and talk forever.

Part of me wished she’d invited just me to go with her and her sister to the movie. Even though we’d been friends for a few months, I still hadn’t spent time with her without Kennedy. What was she like, just on her own?

Inside, I took off my shoes and jacket. I heard hushed voices upstairs.

“This is junior year, bud. You can’t afford to let your grades slip like this. College application season will be here before you know it.”

“It was just one test!”

“That’s not true, A. Dad and I can see everything on the portal. You’re not turning assignments in. And if you’re not doing the work, of course it’s going to show on exams. In any case, there’s still time—”

“I don’t care.”

“Austin.” Mom’s tone softened.

“I don’t.”

“What kind of attitude is that?” Dad raised his voice. “Of course you care. You’ve always cared. Look, I know this injury has been hard, but these things happen. No one sails through life without a few bumps in the road.”

I went into the living room and turned on the TV, shifting the volume high enough so I couldn’t hear them.

Mom and Dad were trying not to be too hard on Austin, but it wasn’t working. His surgery was almost two months ago. Things were supposed to be getting back to normal by now.

Except they weren’t. Not doing his homework? Getting a bad grade on a test? That wasn’t Austin. He wasn’t some stereotype of a football player who barely knows the alphabet. Dad liked to boast how Austin had the second-highest GPA on the team. Sure, he was no Becca, but really, who was?

But the past few weeks he’d stopped going to basketball games to cheer on his teammates. And even when he was home, he was always in his room with the door closed. What was he doing in there if he wasn’t doing homework? Sleeping? That much?

Upstairs, a door slammed. Austin turned up his music. I muted the TV, the chocolate chip cookies suddenly heavy in my stomach.

“I don’t know what to do anymore, Tony. The more we push, the more he pushes back.”

“Maybe this is just a phase. It happens sometimes with boys his age. Let’s try backing off a bit. See if that helps.”

“I don’t know…”

“It can’t hurt to try.”

“Have you heard from Emma? Do we need to pick her up?”

“I think I heard the front door open a minute ago.” Dad raised his voice: “Hey, Emma?”

I got up from the couch. “Yeah?”

When Mom came down, her smile looked fake, like her mind was still upstairs with Austin. “Have fun at Kennedy’s?”

“Yeah.” I suddenly wished I was back at the Novaks’, where the biggest tension was over whether or not a seven-year-old was going to unexpectedly bust into the room.

“You have dinner over there?”

I shook my head. “Just a bunch of cookies.”

“Ooh, cookies!” Mom’s smile turned authentic. “What kind?”

“Chocolate chip.”

“Sounds delish. Let’s see if we can rustle up something for dinner. Give me a hand?”

“Sure.” I flicked off the TV and followed Mom into the kitchen. She stuck her head in the fridge, pulling out vegetables for a salad while I grabbed place mats, plates, and silverware to set the table. “Hey, Mom?”

She stopped chopping bell pepper for a second.

“Is everything okay with Austin?”

Mom’s mouth settled somewhere between a smile and a frown. “He’s going to be fine. We’re just in a rough patch right now. Nothing for you to worry about, okay?”

“But if there was, you know you could tell me, right? I’m in middle school now. I can handle it.”

“You’re an awful lot more mature than Austin was at your age, that’s for sure. Tell me more about Kennedy’s—what’s her family like? What did you all do?”

That quickly I knew I wasn’t going to get more out of Mom about Austin.

CHAPTER NINE

For Christmas, Austin had given me tickets for the Picasso exhibit at the Museum of Fine Arts in late March. Two tickets, though it was a given that I would take him.

Ever since I was old enough to ride the trains with him into Boston without Mom or Dad, it became a thing we did. Take the commuter train to the T into Cambridge or Boston to check out an exhibit at a museum or catch a Red Sox, Bruins, or Celtics game. It wasn’t something we did all the time. Austin was busy—well, he used to be busy. It was something special. Like a date. Except not a date, because he was my brother.

But here we were, the final weekend of the Picasso exhibit. And my date—my brother—was standing me up.

“He was supposed to be home by now,” I mumbled, staring at all the unanswered texts I’d sent my brother. I was sitting on the couch in the living room, all dressed and ready to go.

Where are you?

We’re going to be late.

Austin, come on.

Where. Are. You.

He was supposed to be back two hours ago. That