Homesick

September, 1945
Keira

    Though I was only fifteen, moving from my house, my friends, and my school made me feel like my life was over.  And I wasn’t the only one who felt that way.  My oldest brother, Kyle, wasn’t liking small town life either, since it meant he had to start over at everything.  He was considered gifted at his school in Seattle, and therefore, he’d been able to advance to being a senior by the time he was sixteen.  Now that he was almost eighteen, learning that they didn’t have any program like that in our new school was not sitting well with him.  I wasn’t happy about it, either.  I didn’t like listening to him complain.  My other brother, Fisher, who was almost a year younger than Kyle, on the other hand, didn’t have an opinion one way or another.  Seattle had only reminded him of our grandmother, and now that she’d been gone six months, he’d been ready for a change.

    Six months ago, my life had actually made sense.  I’d had plenty of friends and a few good ones I could count on to be there for me.  My grades had been top-notch, and all my teachers had expected me to be the best in their classes.  I couldn’t deny that I was actually one of the better students in school, and I liked the fact that it garnered attention and respect.  Being smart was the most desired thing anyone there wanted, and I’d had it.  I actually liked school.  But then, my grandmother - my father’s mother - had passed away, leaving him her entire estate and instantly making us one of the wealthiest families in Seattle, on top of his own sizeable fortune from a successful law practice.  I still couldn’t understand why my father had moved out here in the middle of nowhere.  There was nothing here, and both of my parents behaving like this was the best thing to ever happen to our family.  I didn’t think I would ever understand.

    Our house was only a few blocks from the school, and it was apparently one of the largest in town, although we weren’t the wealthiest family in the school.  That honor was currently being held by a family of the name Masen.  I didn’t know anything about them, and neither did my father, even though the principal told him they were also new in school, having moved into a house outside town a few months earlier.  They’d been new, and now we were the new kids in school.  I wasn’t thrilled about it.  Kyle wasn’t thrilled about it.  Fisher had no complaints.  New school, new start.  Even though he was smart and talented, like me and Kyle, Seattle had too many bad memories, especially since he’d been closer to our grandmother than Kyle.  I’d been closer to her than Kyle, and I would miss her more than I’d realized at the time, but I still hadn’t wanted to move away from my house, my school, and my friends, just because my father wanted to, because he thought it would be better for us to live in a small town for a while.

    So, when we arrived at school first thing Monday morning, I wasn’t surprised to see probably fifteen or sixteen cars in the parking lot that looked like it had been laid less than six months earlier.  Our car was clearly the best one in the lot, with the exception of one other car that was just as shiny and just as new.  One of who I guessed was the Masens was currently standing beside the car as a tall, blond, beautiful girl rose from the passenger seat and a tall, burly, dark-haired boy held her door for her.  This other boy standing beside the car was also tall but had auburn hair.  I couldn’t decide if they were supposed to be related, since none of them really looked like they could belong to the same family.  I didn’t know what their story was supposed to be, but they clearly behaved like siblings.

    The girl was astonishingly beautiful, and her hair, though the same color as mine, was clearly softer and wavier.  She looked to be very tall, much taller than me, and the dark-haired boy beside her, while he was very handsome, was even taller and thick, like a lumberjack.  I’d never seen to people look so different from each other and still fit together the way they did.  The auburn boy was lean with a slender face and a medium build, and he seemed to be on his own, even though when he joined them, they all smiled and laughed together.

    And then he lifted his eyes and looked at me.  The color of his eyes startled me, as they were so dark that I could barely see any color.  His eyes also had dark circles underneath them, like he hadn’t slept in weeks.  They all had dark eyes and dark circles under their eyes, which stood out in contrast to their snow-white, pale skin.  I’d never seen anyone with skin that white, and it shocked me.  He was beautiful, surprisingly, but there was something deep beneath his beauty that said he was very different from everyone else around him.  They were all different from everyone else around them.  I wondered if anyone could see this, and I wanted to know where they’d come from.  I was so curious about him, even though I’d never met him or spoken to him, and I suddenly had to know something about him no one else did.

    “Keira, come on,” Kyle commanded. I took my eyes from the boy to look at my obnoxious, older brother.

    “You’re not my boss, Kyle,” I retorted.  “Just because you drove me here, it doesn’t mean you can tell me what to do.”

    “Keira,” Fisher pleaded softly, eliciting a much different reaction from me as he reached for me to guide me along toward the main building.  “Come on.”

    I allowed him to put his arm around me.  I then looked over my shoulder to see the boy with his two companions moving in the same direction as us.

    “You don’t have to be so independent,” Fisher soothed, his voice much softer than Kyle’s.  “We are your big brothers.  We just want to look after you.”

    I exhaled loudly.  “I know.  But he doesn’t have to be so bossy.”

    “No,” he agreed, glancing at Kyle.  “He doesn’t.”

    With it being September, while I hadn’t expected it to be sunny or warm, I’d been discovering the last few months since moving into this town that it was almost always cloudy and almost always raining.  Seattle hadn’t been too dissimilar, but at least there it had been somewhat busy, so you couldn’t notice that it was cloudy a lot.  Most of the other female students were wearing long skirts and long sleeved shirts, and the male students were wearing tweed pants and jackets.  Being from the city made us sort of stand out as neither Kyle nor Fisher were wearing the typical things of the school, and neither was I.  But these were the only clothes I owned, so I never said anything to anyone about it.

    The front office was warm and not just in temperature.  The walls, the desks, and the chairs were all a warm brown color that made it feel almost like normal.  The secretary behind the main desk, whose name appeared to be Margaret, spotted us immediately, her bright brown eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree as she smiled widely.

    “Oh!  You must be the Jones children,” she exclaimed rather over-enthusiastically.  I immediately blushed, but Kyle took a more direct approach.

    “First of all,” he said, his voice laced with disgust.  “We’re not children.  Or rather, I’m not.  Second, you don’t know us, and it’s probably better that you don’t behave that way.  And I already know where to go, so I’ll let you deal with the two of them.”

    He looked at me and Fisher, grinning sarcastically.  “Later.”

    As soon as Kyle left, Fisher sighed softly, turning his own blue-green eyes to the secretary as she stared wide-eyed at us both.  “Ma’am, I apologize for his behavior.  He’s still . . . unhappy about our move.  I’m Fisher,” he greeted, extending his hand to take hers.

    She blushed beet red, allowing him to take her hand.

    “This is my sister, Keira,” he gestured to me.  “We’re here to get our schedules, please.”

    Margaret remained flustered for several seconds as she scooted her chair back to a file cabinet and extracted two slips of paper before handing them to us.  “We have been expecting you,” she said,  “what with your father growing up here.  Just give these to each of your teachers, and your last period teacher will return it at the end of the day.”

    Fisher took the slip of paper she handed us with his name on it, and he gave me mine.  I examined the little slip of paper dutifully, noticing all the essentials listed, as well as a break at noon for lunch.  Fisher did the same thing for a few seconds before he looked at Margaret.

    “Thank you,” he smiled.

    He guided me out of the office slowly, walking me to my first class and turning me to face him before he released me.  “Are you going to be okay?” he asked me.

    “I’ll be fine,” I promised him, bowing my head as we stood at the mouth of my Advanced Mathematics class.

    “All right.  See you at lunch.”

    He kissed my forehead as he usually did before leaving me, and as he walked away, I hoped I would be fine.  Moving here seemed like the biggest mistake of my life.

    I stepped into the room slowly, seeing other students still settling in their seats as the teacher wrote out a lesson on the chalk board.  I stepped over to his desk, and he looked at me, before stepping over to take my slip.

    “Ms. Jones,” he said.  “I remember that name.  Are you related to Walter Jones?” he asked me.

    “He’s my father,” I replied softly.

    The teacher grinned.  “Of course.”  He reached into his desk, extracting a thick textbook and handing it to me.  “There’s a seat open next to Mr. Masen.”

    My eyes immediately turned to the class, spotting the auburn-haired boy as he sat at the back of the class.  He wasn’t looking up.  He wasn’t moving.  I said nothing as I took my book and made my way to the desk next to his.  He only glanced at me, saying nothing as the class filled up, and the door closed.

    “All right, that’s enough talk,” the teacher whose name I hadn’t caught called over the class.  “Everyone take out their textbooks and turn to page 27.”

    The boy next to me inhaled slowly, groaning as he leaned forward in his chair and then pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose like his head was hurting.  He groaned softly, opening his book and turning it to the lesson the teacher had stated.  I almost said something, maybe thinking he wasn’t feeling well.  It was obvious something was making him uncomfortable.  But I decided against it, opening my book and lifting my eyes to the teacher as he began his lesson.

    I hope he’s okay, I thought to myself.  He doesn’t look very well.   

    Had that been the only time I saw that boy all morning, it would’ve been okay, but I wasn’t so lucky as he showed up in every one of the classes I’d been assigned.  And what was even worse was how all the teachers found it completely necessary to sit me next to him. And he never said a word to me, not even a polite “hello.”  I didn’t think it was normal for anyone to behave that way, but he looked almost bored, almost uninterested most of the morning, so I decided to ignore him.

    It wasn’t easy.

    By lunch, I was ready to be free of the monotony of school, and I followed the flow of students from my grade to the cafeteria.  I noticed juniors and seniors also moving in that general direction, and I realized I would be able to see Fisher while I was here.  A girl from my Advanced Mathematics class, whose name I remembered was Abigail, walked to lunch with me, giving me a bit of a tour of the campus which was less than half the size of the school I’d attended in Seattle.  Abigail didn’t really ask me a lot of prying questions about where I’d lived before, and I appreciated that.  She pulled me to a table where a few other students were sitting, and the blond girl already sitting there literally flocked to my side.

    “Oh, you must be Keira,” she exclaimed.  “I’m Jennifer.  If there’s every anything you need, all you have to do is ask.  Everyone’s talking about you!  This must be so different from living in Seattle.  I can’t imagine how strange it is for you to be here in such a little town.  Oh, I love your dress!”

    I blushed deep red then, trying to smile and trying not to be rude, but no one had ever bombarded me with so many platitudes before.  Jennifer’s bright blue eyes lit up as she scoured my face and clothes, almost like she was passing judgement on me inside her head.  “Thank you,” I said softly.

    “Did you have a boyfriend in Seattle?” Jennifer asked, even though it was none of her business whether I had or hadn’t — and I hadn’t, but again, that was none of her business.

    “Jennifer, don’t hound her with personal questions,” the lone boy sitting at the table cajoled, winking his deep brown eyes at me and grinning as he slicked back a lock of his dark brown hair.  “I’m Ethan,” he said, leaning over the table and reaching for my hand.  I reciprocated slowly.  “Ethan Conway.  You’re Keira Jones.  My dad’s working with your dad at the police station.”

    I nodded at this piece of information.  “Of course.”

    “So, how are you liking the town?” he asked over his own lunch which consisted of a carton of milk and the remnants of a turkey sandwich.  “Probably not what you’re used to.”

    I inhaled then, looking over the variety of food in front of me and choosing the macaroni and cheese as a first choice.  “No, it isn’t what I’m used to,” I stated softly.  “But I’m getting used to it.”

    “We can go to the library later this week if you want,” Abigail suggested with a shrug.  “I still have a lot of work to do in Math.”

    I thought about what kind of library a town this small could have, and I remembered how often I’d gone to the library in Seattle to spend time with my friends or just to find a new book to read.  I wondered if it was possible for the library here to have the same kinds of books they would have in Seattle, and I decided against it.  The library here probably didn’t have the kind of money a large city would have to stock its shelves with a wider variety of books.

    “What class do you have next?” Ethan asked.

    I pulled my schedule from my Science book and looked at quickly.  “French,” I realized, trying to remember what I’d learned the year before in my old school.

    Ethan looked disappointed, nibbling on his sandwich.  “That’s too bad.  I have to go to English.  But maybe we’ll have a class together before the end of the day.”

    I nodded, glancing around for Fisher and instead spotting the same boy from all my morning classes now sitting at a table with the tall, beautiful girl and the dark-haired, lumberjack boy I’d seen him with that morning.  I wondered what his next class was, and I silently hoped it wasn’t the class I had.

    I had no such luck.

    Fisher found me before the end of lunch, walking me out of the cafeteria and quizzing me teasingly about my morning.

    “You seem to have made a few friends over the last few hours,” he said with a  grin.  “Maybe you don’t need my help after all.”

    I blushed for what felt like the hundredth time that day, wishing I could be at home in my room with my door shut where no one could bother me.  “At least I’m trying,” I told him.  “I don’t think Kyle’s made any effort to get along with anyone at all today.”

    Fisher squeezed me in his arm.  “Yes, you are trying,” he nodded.  “And I’m proud of you for that.  I know this hasn’t been easy on you, especially, and I wish things could be different.  I really do.”

    “Can we make a run for it before Kyle gets out of his last class this afternoon?” I begged, reaching for his jacket and tugging on it like I did when I was a little girl.

    He smiled, squeezing me again.  “I know you want to,” he said softly.  “And I want you to be some place that’s comfortable for you.  But it’ll be okay here.  I promise.  You just wait.  You’ll meet some more of your classmates here, and then it won’t seem so much more different than home as soon as you make a few more friends.”

    I chose not to respond, thinking of the next three hours I had to get through before I was allowed to leave and wondering if anyone would miss me if I didn’t make it there.  Of course, Fisher made sure I made it to French class, and upon stepping inside and discovering the same boy there who’d been in all my morning classes, I realized I wasn’t going to be able to concentrate the whole time I was there.

    And it seemed the hands of fate liked it that way as I arrived in English class at the end of the day to discover him yet again sitting at the back of the class.  I unconsciously braced myself for the next hour, stepping to the teacher’s desk and handing my slip of paper to him.

    “Ah, Ms. Jones,” the teacher said.  “I’ve been hearing about you.  My name’s John Jennings.  I’ll be your English teacher for the next three years.”

    I was unable to say anything back, and when I stuttered, he grinned.  “It’s okay,” he chuckled.  “I don’t bite.”

    I blushed deeply, taking my textbook from him and clutching it to my chest.

    “It looks like we’ve got a seat next to Mr. Masen,” he gestured.  “I’m sure he’ll help you, if you have a question.  Won’t you, Mr. Masen?”

    I turned my eyes toward him, seeing that he hadn’t even looked up, but he spoke nonetheless.

    “Yes, Mr. Jennings.”

    His voice was smooth, almost like an instrument, but there was a hint of sarcasm to it that annoyed me.  What was so special about him that he didn’t even have to look up when the teachers spoke to him?

    “Please take your seat, Ms. Jones,” Mr. Jennings requested.

    I moved to my seat quickly, sitting down and immediately facing forward.  I paid no attention to the boy to my left.  He wasn’t worth my time.

    Fisher was waiting for me as soon as my English class ended, and I was glad to leave the whole thing behind me.  Though I usually enjoyed English, and Mr. Jennings had been relatively enjoyable as a teacher, sitting next to that boy had caused me to be distracted through the entire class.  With the number of times he groaned or furrowed his thick eyebrows, I honestly thought there was something wrong with him.

    “Well, how was your first day?” Fisher asked, taking me under his arm and walking me away from the doorway.

    “Typical of a first day,” I replied, even though it had actually been a while since I’d had a first day at school where no one knew me.  “I suppose.”

    “Meet any cute boys?” he asked, and I looked at him to see a teasing smile across his face.

    “Fisher,” I began, “you’re my big brother, and I love you, but I’m not talking about boys with you.  It would just be too awkward,” I told him as we both exited the school and made our way to the car where Kyle was already waiting impatiently.

    Fisher chuckled.  “Well, I’m just asking.  New school, new environment.  I thought you might have met someone who caught your attention.”

    I instantly thought of that auburn-haired boy, glancing behind me to see him joining the girl and other boy he arrived with that morning and then also glancing over his shoulder in my direction.  I made no attempts to hide the fact that I was staring at him.  And he stared back for almost five seconds before sliding smoothly into the back seat of the car.  The taller dark-haired boy slid into the driver’s seat while the tall, blond girl eased into the front passenger seat without a word to either of them.

    Fisher also glanced back, seeing what I was seeing as he spoke.  “I thought no one caught your attention,” he teased, smiling as he opened my door for me.

    “Did I say he’d caught my attention?” I argued.  “I don’t even know his first name.”

    I got into the car, and Fisher stepped around to the passenger side to get in before Kyle backed out of our parking spot to leave the lot.

    “Well, his sister’s name is Rosalie, and she said his name is Edward,” Fisher continued, once we were on our way back to the house.  “So maybe you can talk to him tomorrow.”

    I said nothing as I sat in the back seat, remembering how strange the boy had behaved and having no desire to talk to him at all.  I doubted that would change overnight.

    My mother, Annabeth, was waiting for all three of us when we arrived at the house, taking her China out of the boxes and placing them in the buffet already there.  She was still wearing the old dress she’d been wearing when we’d left before school.  Her dark blond hair was, amazingly enough, still pinned back perfectly, and she was smiling like unpacking was the most fun she’d ever had.  When we came into the house, she greeted all of us happily.

    “Welcome home, kids,” she called, her voice more chipper than it had been eight hours earlier.  “How was school?”

    Kyle answered her first, his voice dripping with disdain.  “If I have to go back, I just might vomit.”

    The smile on her face disappeared instantly, and she looked at him disapprovingly.  “Kyle, that’s not nice,” she chastised.  “There’s nothing wrong with that school, and you’d do well to remember that.”

    He scoffed loudly.  “I don’t care.  I have more important things to worry about.  Excuse me.”

    He left without another word, and my mother inhaled deeply, smoothing the front of her dress and turning her attention to me and Fisher.

    “It wasn’t that bad, was it?” she begged.

    “It was fine,” Fisher assured her.  “I’m sure Kyle’s just upset about moving, and whether he likes it or not, he’ll learn to deal with school.  It is just one more year for him.”

    My mother sighed with relief, laying her blue-grey eyes on me.  “Honey, it was okay, wasn’t it?” she pleaded.  “I mean, I know our move was sudden and everything, but we really do want you three to be happy here.  It’ll be better than the city.  You’ll see, I promise.”

    “It was okay, Mom,” I said, assuring her as Fisher had also done.  “Really.  The teachers were nice, and it’s a nice school.  It’s just new.  We’ll all adjust.”

    “Good.  That’s really good.  But if there’s ever anything you want to talk to me about, you know you can tell me, right?”

    I smiled as best as I could.  “I know.  I’m going up to my room, okay?”

    She smiled back.  “Okay.”

    I followed Fisher out of the room and up the stairs where our rooms were currently still filled with boxes to be unpacked.

    I had yet to remove all of my belongings from the boxes I’d packed them into, but in a few months, I’d found all the essentials.  My journals, for one.  My grandmother had given me my first one, and I’d been writing in them every day since I’d been ten years old.  Five years was a long time to build a collection, and I had quite a few now.  In the last six months, I’d been scouring them to find all the passages I’d written about my grandmother and my home.  There were quite a few.

    After my journals, my mother had helped me find all the essential clothes, opulent and refined as they were.  They made me stand out in this small town, but I didn’t really care.  My family was considered wealthy, and I wore good clothes.  I wasn’t really worried about what any small town boy would say about my clothes.  And with that, I found myself thinking of that boy.  Edward.  It was sort of an old-fashioned name.  Not at all like mine, which had come from my father’s side of the family and had belonged to his great-great grandmother from Ireland.

    As I began removing more of my clothes from their boxes, I remembered what that boy had been wearing.  He’d looked just as out of place as I had.  I wondered if his family was as wealthy as mine was, and I wondered where he’d come from.  There was something strange about him, and it wasn’t just because of his clothes, or his eyes, or his manners.  I’d always been able to sort of read people just by looking at them, and my gut told me there was something different about him.  My grandmother had always told me to follow my instincts, and even though this boy refused to acknowledge me, I wouldn’t let him get away with that.

    “Are you going to stand there and mull all afternoon?” I heard and turned to see Fisher there ,now dressed in his jogging pants and t-shirt.

    I stepped away from the closet, folding my arms over my chest.  “And exactly what is that supposed to mean?” I asked, half-grinning.

    “Keira, you have a tendency to become obsessed, and I know that look on your face.”

    I scoffed lightly, even though he was right.  “And exactly what would I have to be obsessed about?” I asked him.

    He smiled, his blue-green eyes twinkling the way they always did whenever he knew something he wasn’t supposed to know.  “It’s been two and a half months, and we just got back from our first day in a new school.  I’m certain you’ve found something to wonder about.  You always do.  I just want to make sure your obsession is healthy.”

    I inhaled deeply.  “Fisher, come on,” I pleaded.  “We have been in town two and a half months.  I know you’re my big brother, and I know you want to look out for me, but please.  I’m not a little girl anymore, and I haven’t worn pigtails in about six or seven years.  I’m okay.  And trust me, if I think I’m becoming obsessed, you’ll be the first to know.  All right?”

    He stepped closer to me, easing his arms around me for the first time in what felt like months.  Since our grandmother had passed away, we’d all been kind of distant, each choosing our own ways of coping with the situation and the consequences.  My father had switched jobs, taking a position in the local police station here in town as a legal advisor.  My mother had turned herself into the quintessential homemaker, pulling together the kinds of things you’d think she spent her entire life creating.  Kyle was, well, Kyle.  He brooded and griped a lot, but I knew it was all show.  I knew he was in pain, and I knew he just didn’t know how to show it.  Fisher and I seemed to be the only ones in our family capable of handling her passing with any degree of normalcy.  I wondered when we would be a real family again.

    “I’ll leave you to your room,” Fisher said, leaning back and kissing my forehead.  “Don’t forget about dinner, okay?”

    I smiled as normally as I could.  “I won’t,” I promised.

    He left the room silently, moving back to his room to do what I was doing, and I moved back to my closet to finish unpacking my clothes.

    I decided Fisher was right.  Maybe I was becoming obsessed.  I was going to figure out what was so different about that boy.  And I didn’t really care what I had to do to figure it out. I suppose he really had caught my attention after all.

    My father, Walter, arrived home just after five-thirty, toting a new briefcase filled with new papers and files from his new job, and by then, I was in the kitchen helping my mother with dinner.  Fisher was in the living room fiddling with the new radio, and Kyle was probably still brooding in his room.  The house was being filled with the news for the night as my father made his way into the kitchen where my mother and I were chopping vegetables, and he immediately announced himself.

    “Well, I never thought I’d spend the day doing the kind of paperwork required to process a speeding ticket off Highway 101, outside town,” he quipped, stepping behind my mother and kissing her cheek, and then looking at me.  “How are my girls today?” he smiled.  “First day at a new school.  How was it, sweetheart?”

    I blushed, and he moved to my side to kiss my forehead.  “It was okay, Daddy.  Just a first day in a new school.”

    “Meet any nice boys?” he inquired, lifting his chin and scrutinizing me teasingly with his happy green eyes.

    I blushed deeper even as he squeezed me.  “Daddy,” I pleaded.

    “Well, we’ll have to work a little harder on that.  What’s for dinner?” he asked, leaning toward my mother and kissing her gently on her lips.

    She kissed him back.  “Pot roast,” she whispered.

    He squeezed me again, releasing me and moving the cupboard.  “I’ll set the table,” he announced.  “Where are your brothers?”

    “I don’t know about Kyle,” I said, resuming my chopping.  “But Fisher is messing with the radio in the living room.  I think he’s hoping to hear something about the war.”

    The teasing attitude of my father dissipated slightly as he retrieved plates and silverware from the cabinet.  “Well, I’m just glad the whole mess is over with,” he said with finality, moving from the kitchen to the dining room with his task on hand and leaving no room for discussion.

    Dinner was ready by seven, and my father pulled Fisher from the radio without turning it off to make him sit at the dinner table as he’d been doing since moving all of us to this house a few months earlier.  He was continually reminding us that he wanted us all home in time for dinner no matter what exciting thing was going on in town, and though I knew I would have no problem with that stipulation, Fisher and Kyle were completely different stories.  They both had their own ideas of what a curfew meant, and Kyle had always been one to defy the rules.  So when he didn’t come down for dinner when it was ready, my father marched up the stairs and summoned him directly.

    Kyle came downstairs grumbling about how he wasn’t even hungry, but our father was always, and had always been, adamant about such things, and it was inappropriate for Kyle to not sit at dinner with everyone else.  So even though he was pulled to the table with an annoyed look on his face, he still took his place beside our mother while I sat next to Fisher on the opposite side of the table.  While our father wasn’t very religious, he still made all of us pause for a moment and remember how grateful we all were for our health before he let us sit down to start eating.

    “I hope we all had good days at our respective places of interest,” he said from the head of the table, while we all passed around various dishes of food.  “This looks absolutely delicious, Annabeth.”

    My mother blushed, taking the bowl of potatoes and then passing the rolls to Kyle which he took without a word.  “Well, the market here has the most interesting foods to choose from,” she marveled.  “But I decided a more traditional meal would be best since we’re all still settling in.  I found fish and vegetables for later in the week, if we’re all up to it.”

    “That sounds wonderful,” my father agreed.  “So, kids, how was school?” he asked, looking at Kyle and Fisher pointedly since he’d already gauged my experience earlier.

    “It’s great,” Fisher said with a smile.  “It’s different, but it isn’t as bad as some of us believe,” he hedged, glancing up at Kyle.

    Our older brother smiled grudgingly.  “Allow me to apologize then, if I made the experience horrible for you,” he prickled, giving Fisher an even wider smile.

    “All right, now, there’s no need for that,” my father said.  “We’re all adjusting to small town life, and it’s only normal for there to be a grace period of resentment, no matter how misplaced it might be.  I think this will be a good thing for all of us in the long run.”

    “Well, it might end up being a good thing for Keira in the long run,” Fisher teased nudging my arm playfully.  “Especially since I think she met a boy at school.”

    My face turned red as I attempted to keep my head down and my eyes on my plate, but my mother and father’s curiosity was immediately piqued.

    “Sweetie, you said you didn’t meet anyone nice at school,” my mother pressed.

    “It’s not like that,” I said, lifting my head to look at her.  “I did meet a lot of nice people at school.  Fisher is just exaggerating.  Really.”

    “Well, who is this boy?” my father asked.

    I inhaled deeply, pressing my lips together, and when I didn’t speak, Fisher took it upon himself to do it for me.

    “Edward Masen,” he said, and all the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end at the sound of his name.  “He’s a new student in school just like we are,” Fisher continued.  “He and his siblings started school a couple of weeks ago.  I have World Economics with his older sister Rosalie.  He has an older brother, Emmett, I believe.”

    It was embarrassing to have Fisher list off all the details he’d obviously taken the time to learn while I sat there dumbfounded at the idea that he’d learned all of this for my benefit.  All I could think about was how that boy hadn’t even paid attention to me the entire day despite sitting next to me in every class.  Was it my fault he didn’t seem interested in anything that school had to offer him, me included?

    “Masen,” my father repeated, reciting the information he'd learned from the school principal.  “There’s a family that lives outside town with that name.  They bought the old Madden place a few months back.  The boys at the station were talking about them this morning after I arrived.”

    “And?” my mother asked, obviously interested in the gossip she was about to hear.

    “Well, they moved here from Rochester a few months back,” he began.  “The father works in the hospital over in Aberdeen, and his wife and her brother moved with him.  The other two kids were apparently adopted when they were younger, but Dr. Masen barely looks like he’s thirty years old.  It’s . . . odd, to say the least, but a family’s business is their own, I suppose. I wonder how they’re fixing up that old house.  It must be fifty years old.”

    “I think we’re making Keira uncomfortable,” Kyle interrupted, and I looked at him to see a disinterested look on his face.  “Maybe we could talk about something else.”

    My mother and father looked at me, and I could only guess what my face looked like, but it was apparently enough for them to switch gears.  Fisher took the initiative again, speaking up from my side.

    “They’re still talking about the delegates who signed the declaration to end the war,” he said matter-of-factly, reminding everyone that we’d sat through the entire broadcast two weeks earlier to listen to every minute detail — well, almost all of us.  Our father had opted to remain in his study throughout the broadcast and then instructed me to go to bed before ten o’clock.  “And they’re still working to secure the Pacific, but — ”

    “I don’t think it’s really necessary to discuss those kinds of things at the dinner table,” my father interrupted, and we all looked at him.

    “Well, when will we talk about it?” Fisher asked calmly, despite knowing it wasn’t a subject our father liked discussing.  “After dinner when you’re in your study going over papers for a traffic violation because the police station is so small there isn’t anything else for you to do?”

    “Fisher,” my mother scolded.

    “No, that’s okay,” my father said.  He looked at Fisher.  “The police station here is small, but this is a small town.  And it’s safer than the big city we used to live in.  There’s less crime which means there are less criminals.  It means my children are safer, so if you want to attack me because I don’t want to talk about a bloody war that killed hundreds of thousands people, then go ahead.  But I’m still your father, and what I say goes around here.  You’re safe here, and that’s much more preferable than sending you off to die in a war where innocent people caught in the crossfire didn’t have a choice.”

    I looked at Fisher, seeing his brow furrowed as he held our father’s eyes with his own.  He didn’t say anything else, pushing his chair back and leaving the dining room before I could stop him. My mother bowed her head, embarrassed by her son’s behavior, and my father sighed heavily before he took his fork and simply began eating again.  Kyle was the first to speak after a few seconds passed.

    “Keira, can you pass me the green beans?”

    I looked at him incredulously, but he didn’t budge, lifting his eyebrows and nodding to our parents.  I sat up then, passing the bowl to him and then taking a roll to eat with my dinner, even though I was no longer hungry.

    After dinner, while my father announced that he would help my mother with the dishes, I made my way upstairs with Kyle.  He went to his room and closed the door, and instead of going to my room, I stopped at Fisher’s door and knocked.

    “It’s open.”

    I turned the handle softly, opening the door and stepping inside to see my brother sitting at his desk with a few of his school books set out in front of him.  He didn’t look up from his desk, but I knew he wasn’t doing anything but trying to look like it didn’t bother him that he and our father had disagreed about something — again.

    “You could call a cease-fire,” I suggested, and he glanced over his shoulder at me.  “I don’t think he would object.”

    “Of course not,” he chided, turning back to his books.  “That would be me telling him he’s right.  And it’s part of my job to disagree with him.”

    “He’s not wrong,” I disagreed, prompting him to stop and put his pen down before he turned to face me.

    “Keira,” he began, pausing for half a minute and then continuing.  “You don’t know what it’s like.  I’m turning seventeen in two months.  And I’m a junior in high school.  Most boys my age are getting ready to graduate, and because he decided this without talking to us, I have to start all over.”

    “Well, then, I’m sorry.  I thought I was talking to Fisher.  You know, my brother who had no complaints before we started school this morning.”

    I turned to leave, and he spoke again.

    “Don’t leave,” he pleaded.  “I’m — I’m sorry.”  He rose from his chair, facing me the way he had after getting back from school.  “I didn’t mean it like that.  I know why he did this.  And I understand.  But what does he expect me to do now?”

    “Now what?” I asked.  “Now that you can’t go off after school and enlist the way you make it sound because the war’s over?  Why would you want to do that?”

    “I don’t,” he insisted, causing me to sigh heavily.  “Okay, maybe I do,” he amended.  “But the point is that it was my choice.  And now that choice is gone.  And I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

    “Go to school,” I offered.  “Maybe being there will help you figure it out.”

    He smiled then, reaching for my hands and holding them in his as he spoke.  “You always knew what you wanted to do with your life,” he chuckled.  “I always admired that about you.”

    He pulled me closer, and I wrapped my arms around him as tight as I could.  “You’ll know what you want to do with your life one day,” I whispered to him.  “I promise.”

    It was almost ten when I finally got bed after my bath, and I finished the few assignments the teachers at school had given me before settling into my bed for the night.  I’d only been sleeping in this room a little while, and I was still getting used to it.  Weekdays were worse than the weekends, especially when my mother had insisted on getting me up when it would normally be a school day so I wouldn’t fall out of the habit.  It wasn’t anything like my room at our previous house.

    The ceiling was eggshell white, and the walls were pale yellow.  The wood floors were a bright honey color, and it matched the furniture which included a small desk, an armoire and the bed which didn’t have a canopy but was surrounded by four posts on all sides.  All the furniture had been in the house when we’d moved in, and when my mother had seen this room, she’d automatically designated it to me.  I wasn’t uncomfortable here anymore, but it still wasn’t home. I was sure nothing would ever be like home again.