Downstairs, the front door opened and closed. Rustle of mail on the hall table, jingling keys. No scuffle of shoes. My mom wears white nurse’s sneakers, rubber soled. Totally silent.
“Sharon,” my dad called. It sounded like he was still in the kitchen. “Could you come here, please?”
My mom said something unintelligible. Must have been a no because a minute later, the shower came on. She always showers as soon as she gets home because her job is to splash around in blood. Because all day, she’s been touching stainless steel.
I rolled onto my back and looked at the ceiling, the overhead light fixture. The way the fan spun, making shadows like dragonfly wings.
Finally, I pushed the window open and climbed out onto the roof.
From so high up, I had a view of the neighborhood and the backyard. I leaned forward and propped my elbows on the tops of my knees. The rain had stopped, but the sky was still spitting a fine, chilly mist.
Down in the street, there were motorcycles, fire hydrants, and parked cars. Trees lined up all the way along Wicker Street. The whole city reeked like iron, but under that, the green smell was alive and bright.
In the hall outside my room, someone was shuffling along, dragging their feet on the carpet. Then there was a knock, soft and cautious.
I rolled over and leaned in through the window. “Yeah?”
Emma opened the door. Her hair was twisted into a knot and she was dressed for bed, wearing her horrible fuzzy slippers. She climbed onto my bed and struggled out onto the roof. With her hands out for balance, she scooted down the slope on her butt so that she was sitting next to me on the wet shingles.
We looked out at the street and Emma leaned against me, resting her head on my shoulder.
I leaned my cheek against the top of her head. “So, you and Dad must’ve had a good one.”
“Difference of opinion. His was that I was breaking a cardinal rule, and in my opinion, he was acting like a crazy person. You kind of got the end of it. Sorry.”
I shook my head. “He wasn’t mad. He just wants me to be more inconspicuous. Because of that little kid today. Or because of Kellan Caury.”
“Oh God, I wish he’d stop talking about that. Telling you antiquated horror stories is not helping anything.”
I slid my fingers along the surface of the roof. The shingles were rough, full of galvanized nails. The burn was just painful enough to be distracting. “He didn’t say it. It’s just what he means. This girl at school—Tate. It was her sister.”
