Kara The second I opened my eyes I knew Cameron was gone. I laid in bed on my back, spreading my limbs as I stared at the ceiling. There was a thin crack on the surface of it that scattered like the roots of a tree. I'd repaired it with drywall, sanded it to make it look smooth again, but the crack kept coming back. We'd had it inspected before and were told it was just the house settling down. But what if it was more than that? When a house had seen too many storms, been beaten mercilessly by winds, it would reach its limit sooner or later. The crack would only get bigger, leaks would start, ruining the foundation until it eventually toppled down. Just like everything else. Well, it'd be Dylan who'd go first since it was his room, and I wasn't about to let that happen. I'd have to add it to my to do list. I let out a quiet sigh, turned my head to stare out the window. The sun streamed inside the room, brightening it. It should've lifted my mood, but there was a space in my heart that ached. No matter, I thought, sitting up and swiping the hair that fell on my face, gotta get my coffee first. I hate thinking first thing in the morning. I grabbed my phone, noted it was two p.m. on a Saturday, held my breath when I saw a text message from Cameron. He never texted first until I sent him a good morning text. When I asked him why he didn't text first, he said he didn't want to wake me up at four in the morning when he usually woke up. My Bigfoot: I'm sorry I can't go. Dylan will drive you to your place. Left a few things I need to fix asap. Don't go by yourself. Promise me Of course. Cameron left work in a hurry yesterday because of me. There would be a lot of things he'd left unattended. I guessed it was too greedy of me to wish he'd still be here. I wished anyway. I sent him a reply, then stumbled my way to the kitchen to get coffee. On my second cup, I felt more like a human being. I was thinking of making toast when Dylan came through the back door. "Cameron said I can drive his truck." "Did he?" I narrowed my eyes at him. "Did he really?" He took off his sneakers, kicked them in the closet, then hung his hat on the peg. "Yup. Text him." He walked to the fridge, fished out the milk carton, drank straight from it. I got up and smacked the back of his head. "Shit!" Milk dribbled on his chin. "Did I raise a wolf in this house? Glass. Get it. Now." "Geez. What climbed up your butt and died?" "Where's Dad?" "It's Saturday so he's got that church meeting thing for the fundraiser." I nodded absently, reached for my phone and texted Cameron. He replied right away. My Bigfoot: Yeah he can drive it Huh. Had Cameron forgotten what Dylan did to his motorcycle? I raised my eyes and found Dylan smirking at me. "Cameron said yes didn't he?" he asked excitedly, leaning against the counter and making a show of pouring milk into a glass. I sneered at him. He took a sip, put the milk back in the fridge. "Told ya." He turned to me, rubbed the tip of his nose with his thumb, gloating. "Why don't you come here, and I'll show you told ya?" "Aw, Kar, come on. Get ready already so we can go to your place." "Don't you have anything to do today?" He shrugged. "I'm supposed to meet a friend, but you need me, so I cancelled. No biggie." "Who's this friend? Are you going out with someone?" "Not really," he answered, but I could tell he was being cagey. He wasn't as smooth as he thought he was. "You going to sleepover again tonight, right?" Then his face turned serious and I had to blink. Puberty arrived late for Dylan, and when it arrived it him like a brick. He had gotten taller—he probably needed a new bed now. His shoulders were broader, and I noticed he needed new clothes too. The chubbiness on his cheeks was gone, his face now leaner and sharper. His hair that used to be pale blond had turned a little darker. "Stay here for another night," he said. "Want me to clean my room again?" I watched him wash the dishes. When he was done, he grabbed the dishtowel. Dad and I didn't mind letting the dishes dry on the rack. Dylan was the only one who wiped them dry. He looked over his shoulder at me. "Kar?" "When did you grow up?" His face sobered, then he turned back to the sink. We both knew it was when my mother left. With Dad's money. He cracked his knuckles then turned to face me again. This time he was grinning. "Not surprised you didn't notice. It's hard for the immature people to relate with the mature." It took me a second before I got it. "Fuck off." I laughed. "Anyway, wanna shower first or do I get first dibs on the bathroom now?" "Not when I'm here. I'm the first born. Respect the rankings, son." "Yes, elder." * Dylan's grin went past his ears as he wiggled his butt on the seat of Cameron's truck. His hands stroke the wheel as if he was about to make love with it. "It won't kiss you back, you know," I said. "Let's go. You know how to drive this thing, right?"