Page 1 of Everything Has Changed
Prologue
“Gwen! Have you seen my sweater?”
“No, Kennedy! I already told you three times.”
I let the screen door slam closed between us, the banging noise drowning out my sister moaning about how I always steal her stuff. She wasn’t necessarily wrong about that, but I wasn’t lying when I told her I didn’t have her sweater. This time.
I make my way into the treeline quickly, hoping Kennedy didn’t see me head out here and follow me for further interrogation. Hand over hand, I ascend the wooden slats my dad nailed into the tree to help us get up to our treehouse.
It was the last thing he built for us years ago, only a few weeks before the accident. I don’t think I would ever climb these stairs and not think about my parents. Though, my memories felt more like stories passed down from family members at this point. The image of them are mere flashes of the same photographs my grandmother keeps in her house. Ophelia said that’s normal when you lose someone at such a young age.
Still didn’t seem right to me.
Anytime I was able to climb up to the treehouse, I took it. But today was different.
I had been watching out of the window in my room, pretending to do my math homework when I saw a flash of dark fabric heading up the tree. There were only four people that would be in there and three of us were in the house right now. It could only be one person and I needed to make sure they were okay. I was down the stairs and out the door—my sister’s accusations the least of my worries right now—without another thought.
Quickly, I tug myself up, skipping the fourth slat that was starting to be too wobbly to hold any weight, cresting over the edge of the floor in no time.
“Logan?”
A mess of dark brown hair pokes up from the bean bag covered in blankets in the corner as I shuffle into the house. His eyes were red rimmed and his cheeks wet.
“What are you doing here, Gwen?” Logan’s voice wobbles as he wipes at his face.
“I saw you from my window.” I say, pointing toward the house. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“I’m fine,” he grumbles. Folding his arms over his chest, he angles himself to stare at the wall.
I take a seat in the middle of the room, fiddling with the edge of my sweatshirt.
“I said I’m fine, Gwen. You can go.”
“You don’t look fine.”
He tosses his head back and sighs.
“Is it your dad again?”
Mr. Spencer was always hard on Logan, which was one of the reasons our friendship had grown. A couple of years ago, I was sitting in the same spot he is now, probably hiding from my siblings, when his head popped up from below and scared the life out of me.
I knew who he was, of course. Everyone knew the Spencer family. He was only a grade ahead of me, but he was also our grandmother’s neighbor. Well, by then he was my neighbor, too. I just wasn’t expecting this boy to show up in my treehouse.
He told me then he was hiding from his dad, and usually when he came up here, I wasn’t there. Logan offered to leave, but I asked him to stay. We have been sharing the treehouse ever since.
“Something like that,” he mutters now, turning back toward me. “Things are just so different now. His expectations are high.”
I scrunch my face. “Expectations? What, like, your grades?”
Logan chuckles a little. “Yeah, that’s one thing.”
My eyes roll dramatically. It was so silly how seriously his dad takes his school work. As if he’s in high school and not seventh grade. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like at that point if this is how it is for him currently.
“He’s changed.” Logan’s voice is soft. His words hushed while he kept his head down, focused on picking at his nails in his lap.
I tilt my head in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Ever since…” He trails off, swiping at one more tear that starts to escape his eye.
