Page 93 of Another Fox Bites the Dust

I still haven’t had a chance to talk to Taylor in private. She just came back to town the day before Luke’s show.

A shiver ripples through me as memories of the night before replay through my mind.

I really hope Luke can get his hands on some condoms today.

But what if that’s all this is? What if it ends?

An ache twists through me at the inevitable questions. Ithasto end. This can’t continue. There is too much at stake.

Shaking off the thoughts—not what I want to have in mind when I’m surrounded by my siblings—I focus on the task at hand.

Finley opens the door to Dad’s room. “Let’s do this.”

We file in after her, Taylor, Piper, Jake, and finally me.

For a few seconds we’re all frozen like statues. Stuck in the past, staring at Dad’s room, which hasn’t changed in the six years he’s been gone. The bed is neatly made, a paperback resting on the nightstand. The digital clock glows with pale-green numbers: 1:32. If it wasn’t for the inch of dust covering every surface, I might be able to convince myself that no time had passed.

Finley blows out a gusty breath. “I’ll start on the closet.” She squares her shoulders and then slides open the closet door, grabbing as many hangered items as she can and setting them on the bottom of the bed.

Taylor moves next, stopping at the dresser.

Jake kneels by the bed, reaching underneath and sliding out a brown cardboard box.

Piper stoops next to him, tugging out a large plastic storage container.

I head over to the other side of the closet. We’re mostly quiet, only speaking to discuss whether to toss or keep various items, our voices hushed like we’re in a library or a church or something.

We never talk to each other about our shared tragedies, the loss, the pain. We never speak about the things that are hard, but that doesn’t make them go away. If anything, it makes the subject even bigger, turning stones into boulders and boulders into mountains. It shouldn’t be this way. We need to change. I can’t change them, though, or force them down the right path, but I can show the way.

A few minutes later, an opportunity comes. I set aside a stack of old empty picture frames, and a crack of laughter pops out of me as I pick up an old, raggedy porcelain doll.

“Oh, my God. Finley. Do you remember this?” I hold it up.

Her mouth pops open and she takes a few steps toward me, staring at the doll in my hands. “He still had that thing?”

“What is it?” Piper walks over to us and makes a face. “That thing is creepy.”

“It really is.” The doll is pale white, her dark hair set back in two braids, her eyes coal black, and she has a painted smile that brings horror movies to mind. She’s stuffed in a shabby blue dress.

“Why did he have this?” Jake asks.

Finley chuckles. “You were too young to remember. I was, what, nine?”

I nod. “Yep. I was eight. I won this monstrosity when he took me and Finley to the fair that one time.” I look over at Jake. “You were all being watched by Veronica.”

Finley’s eyes brighten. “That’s right. He wanted to spend time with just the two of us. We were both a little needier than usual because . . . .” She shrugs, not saying the rest. We missed our mom, and we were the only siblings old enough to recognize the loss.

I swallow, shoving that thought aside, and tell the rest of the story. “Anyway, I was so proud when I got this prize at one of the game booths. I showed it to Dad, and he, well, he looked at it in abject horror, declared that I could not bring her home because she would curse our family, and chucked it in the garbage.”

Piper releases a startled gasp. “Did you cry?”

I shake my head. “No. I believed everything Dad said at that age. I truly believed that he had rescued us from a terrible curse.”

Jake, listening nearby, scrunches his nose at the doll in my hands. “Then how did it get back here?”

“A couple of months later,” I gesture toward Finley, “we walked into our room, and there she was. On my bed, covered in trash and leaves.”

Piper sucks in a breath. “No way.”

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