Page 111 of My Turn

I frowned. She was always grumpy when she woke up, but this felt different. Her voice was monotone and she hadn’t even opened her eyes. She’d been tired all week and acted a little distant, which I’d assumed was because of work. In the days leading up to Winter break, she always reached a burn out point.

“Alana, what’s wrong? Talk to me, baby.”

She shook her head, burying her face in the pillow. Her shoulders shuddered and my heart beat faster when I realized that she was crying.

“Hey,” I said softly. When she didn’t respond, I moved onto the floor beside the bed and turned her to face me. Her eyes opened, then she averted her gaze. “What’s going on?”

A tear slid down her cheek. “He’s gone.”

“Who?”

“He’s gone,” she repeated, her face contorting as if she was in pain. “I just wanted to see him again, but he’s gone.”

I didn’t know who she was talking about. Her brother or Jake, maybe. Something was severely wrong, but I wasn’t sure that Icould get her to open up right now. A knock on the door made me swear.

“Alana, please get up. I’ll make you some tea, okay?”

She shook her head. “Leave me alone. I don’t want to see anyone.”

I stared at her for another moment before I sighed. Leaning forward, I kissed her lips, then her nose.

“Sleep. We’ll figure this out tomorrow. I love you.”

She met my eyes and gave me a curt nod. Accepting that was all I’d get right now, I stood and headed for the door. Alicia was bouncing on her toes when I opened it, but I jerked my chin toward the living room. With a pout, she followed me.

“Alana doesn’t feel good right now,” I said. “You can give her the ornament tomorrow.”

“Is she sick?” Her eyes were wide with worry.

I smiled and brushed her shoulder. “Maybe. I’m sure she’ll be fine tomorrow. Are you hungry?”

“Starving,” she replied dramatically.

“Broccoli is your favorite, right? Or kale salad.”

Her nose wrinkled. “That’s disgusting.”

“You’re right. That’s why I ordered pizza. Extra anchovies.”

“Ugh. I wanna go home.”

With a laugh, I grabbed the TV remote and dropped onto the couch. “You’re a dramatic little devil. I wonder where you got that from.”

“You.”

I feigned shock, putting a hand over my chest. “I am and always have been an angel.”

“Bullshit.”

“Alicia,” I scolded, but I couldn’t completely hide my amusement. “Don’t you know swearing gives you a one-way ticket to hell?”

“Grandmas and grandpa said they’re just words and to call any word ‘bad’ is a sign of low intelligence and conform… confirmit…”

“Conformity to society,” I filled in. It was exactly what they’d said to us growing up.

“Yeah, that. I just can’t say those words at school or with my friends.”

“Fine, but don’t start dropping F-bombs all willy nilly. It quickly becomes habitual.”

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