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

“What did they say?” I asked.

But Austin only shook his head. His eyes looked pink and watery.

“Dad?”

“We’ll need to see a specialist to figure out the next steps, E.”

I rubbed at my eyes. Next steps? “Is he going to be able to play basketball?”

“Emma!” Mom shot me a look, except I didn’t get it. What was so wrong with my question? Wasn’t that why we were here? To figure this out? To fix Austin?

As we trudged out to the car, a nearly full moon shining down on us, I asked Austin again. “What did the doctor say?” I asked it quietly this time, so Mom and Dad wouldn’t hear.

His nostrils flared. “She said I’m screwed, Emma. Jesus! Read the room.” A choking sob caught in his throat.

“I’m sorry,” I said as the car honked twice from Dad unlocking it with his key fob. I wanted to say something more, anything to make him feel better. But I was afraid if I said the wrong thing again, all I’d do was make him even angrier with me.

When we got home, no one said a word. Not Mom, not Dad. Not Austin.

I was still untying my sneakers when Austin stomped up the stairs, slamming his bedroom door behind him.

I thought maybe Mom or Dad would say something. Tell him to calm down, that everything was going to be okay. But they didn’t go up after him.

“Leave him be,” Dad whispered as I started up the stairs. “We’ve all had a long night.”

There was a small line of light peeking out beneath Austin’s door, but he wasn’t making a sound. I hesitated right outside his room. Downstairs, Mom and Dad were talking. Dad wouldn’t even know if I went in. I wouldn’t ask any dumb questions, not this time. I’d just listen.

I grabbed some scratch paper from my desk and scrawled out a note. If you change your mind and want to talk, I’ll be awake. Just as I was about to cap my pen, I added, Sorry about earlier, and then I rapped lightly on Austin’s door and slid him the message.

I waited outside, listening as the floorboards creaked.

A minute later, the paper poked back out beneath the door. Sorry for blowing up at you, Austin had written. This whole thing sucks but I’ll live. He’d drawn a stick figure with a smiley face and a big Band-Aid over its shoulder. For someone who liked looking at art, Austin had always been pretty awful at making it.

I stuck the drawing in one of the boxes under my bed. Maybe Becca was right that time she said my shadow boxes were a long-con cover-up for my hoarding tendencies. Maybe I was a little bit of a hoarder. But at least my brother wasn’t still mad at me.

Austin wasn’t able to see a specialist for his shoulder until Thursday. When Becca and I got to my house late that afternoon, Mom’s car was already in the driveway. They were back from the doctor but they hadn’t texted me?

“Do you want to come over?” Becca asked.

“I should probably see how Austin’s doing.”

“Right, right. I’ve been thinking about him all week. Is there anything I can do to help? Anything I can bring over? Bubbe just made some chocolate babka this morning.”

My stomach rumbled at the sound of that, but I shook my head. If things hadn’t gone well today at the doctor’s, I was afraid Austin would be too upset for company. Even Becca. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“Okay.” Becca’s voice sounded flat.

I turned to head toward my house.

“Wait—Emma?”

I spun around. Becca had her arms folded across her chest. “Text me when you find out, right?”

“Of course.”

But Becca was still looking at me funny. If I didn’t know her better, I’d say she was about to start crying.

“Becca, what is it?”

“It’s just… you didn’t want me at the hospital. And you didn’t want to come over to my house. Ever since you started hanging out with them, I just…”

Them? Who did she mean? My family? “What are you talking about?”

“Nothing,” she said. But obviously it wasn’t nothing because her face was getting red and her voice had gone up an octave.

“Becca, I had to stay with Austin in the hospital. He’s my brother, and he was hurt. You didn’t miss much, promise. Besides, hospitals are gross. I mainly just fell asleep on my mom.” I glanced back toward my house, somehow both eager and nervous to find out what had happened at the doctor’s.

“You should just go. Sorry. I’m—I shouldn’t have even said anything. I always get like this before my—” She didn’t finish the sentence, but I knew what word she’d left off.

Except she’d never said anything before. We had promised we’d tell each other when we got our first period. Why hadn’t she told me?

“Never mind, okay?” Becca said. “Just pretend I never said any of this.”

“Okay…,” I said, finally heading up the walkway to my house.

“Austin, calm down,” Mom said. Even from in the entryway, I could hear them like they were right in front of me.

“No!”

I crept into the kitchen, out of sight of the two of them in the living room, and filled up a water glass at the fridge.

Mom was clearly trying her best to be calm, but Austin was testing her. “We have to look at the positives. Remember what the surgeon said? You’ll be back in time for the end of basketball season, A. And you’ll have the full track season to rebuild and strengthen and—”

“I don’t care about track. That’s your thing. Stop pushing it on me, all right?”

“Austin…”

Austin slouched on the sofa, his right arm in a sling. His eyes were puffy from crying, even though Austin never cried. Not even when Grandpa Bill died and he spoke at his funeral.

“When’s the surgery?”

I meant to ask Austin, but it was Mom who answered, “Not until just after Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to me, huh?” Austin sighed.

I stared at my brother, trying