Reaching Kylee: A Kellam High Novel, #2

Book 1

Author’s Note

TO MY READER:

When I was in college, one year when I was flying home for Christmas, as is wont to happen during the holidays, my flight was delayed and I was stuck in the airport for many hours. An avid reader, I did what any bookworm would do: bought a book from the nearest snack shack.

The book I picked up was Ender’s Shadow, by Orson Scott Card. This was my first introduction to the writer who would become one of my favorite authors. I’d never heard of him, and I’d never read Ender’s Game, the book that runs parallel to Ender’s Shadow.

Not having read it in no way diminished my enjoyment of the book. However, as Ender’s Shadow had many spoilers, I wish I’d read Ender’s Game first.

The same can be said of this book. From the moment I conceived of the idea for Price and Kylee, I struggled with which side of the story to tell first. In the end, I settled on Kylee’s, but as requests to tell more of the story came in, I happily obliged and wrote Price’s story.

What I did not anticipate, however, was how it would grow. There are more people involved, more experiences, and more emotions. Before I knew it, the book was twice as long as Lay Me Down. I guess I’m a little bit OCD, and it bothered me to have a book so much longer than its companion. So I was faced with two options: 1) cut nearly half of Price’s story out or 2) break it into two books.

I did not want to lose anything, so I chose to break it into two books. The end of Book 1 is much like a To Be Continued in a two-part television episode, or a two-part movie. Take comfort in knowing the end is not really the end.

If you have not read Lay Me Down, be aware that this book contains many spoilers.

Thank you for coming along on this journey and happy reading!

To see Lay Me Down at your preferred online retailer, click here.

CHAPTER ONE

PRICE HUDSON STOOD in the doorway of his bedroom and stared at the bare walls. The holes from the nails had all been filled in, but he still saw his room the way it had looked a month ago: posters of his favorite baseball players on one side, comic books piled in a corner, and a bookshelf against the far wall with more photos and memorabilia than books.

In a matter of months, his whole life had changed.

Price? His dad popped around the corner and joined him. He glanced around the room, then dropped a hand on Price’s shoulder. Let’s go, son. The moving van’s loaded. And your friends are here.

Price nodded, a sour taste in the back of his throat. He didn’t have friends anymore. The people he’d thought were friends were as anxious for him to go as his father was to get out.

They passed the closed guest room on the way to the front door, and Price pulled up short. I’ll be right out.

His father glanced at the room and only nodded.

Price took a deep breath before pushing open the door. The room smelled clean and sterile, slightly acidic with the scent of antiseptic cleaner. Price stepped all the way in, his eyes roving around the corners of the room, inhaling deeply. His fingers touched the rough plaster on the wall.

Mom, he whispered.

Nothing. He stood for a few heartbeats more, but there was nothing of her in this room where she’d spent her last weeks. His eyes burned, and his fingers curled into fists. Mom, he said again, his voice breaking.

He plunged from the room, slamming the door behind him, then stood in the hall catching his breath. This was why they were moving. Every inch of this house prompted some memory, some longing of his mother. And yet it was all so hollow. When she’d left, she’d taken every bit of joy with her.

The rest of the house was just as empty. It was odd not seeing his dad’s hunting trophies, but they’d been one of the first things to go. Mr. Hudson had completely skipped hunting season last year.

Price pulled his baseball cap down lower over his eyes as he stepped outside. His dad was talking to the movers, signing some papers on a clipboard. His little sister Lisa pulled on Sisko, their big golden retriever, trying to get him into the back of the black BMW. Price’s lips curled up in a smile; the poor dog probably thought he was going to the vet.

Price!

He turned his head to the street. Rebecca waved to him, as did most of his baseball teammates.

The flutter of relief surprised him. He’d thought he didn’t care anymore. Or maybe he’d been afraid to care. He walked down the driveway to join them. Most of his friends lived on his street, or around the corner. They’d all grown up together.

Hi, he said to Rebecca, shoving his hands into his pockets. She smiled and nodded, her straight black hair falling over her shoulders. Three months ago he would’ve reached for her hand; she would’ve giggled and pushed him away, and then let him kiss her. Three months ago he was contemplating what came after kissing.

And then the diagnosis came, and Price wasn't sure if he pulled away or if she did, but now he felt like a stranger around her. Around all of them.

This sucks, Tim said. You were our star player. What are we going to do without you?

Price shrugged. Hope someone just as cool moves in and takes my spot.

Alec groaned. I saw the old couple looking at your house. The only thing taking your spot will be a wheelchair and a bedpan.

Everyone laughed, but Price didn't see the humor in it. He’d gotten quite good at pushing a wheelchair around, and wouldn’t have cared in the least if he’d had to change the bedpan.

Alec stopped laughing, as if suddenly realizing what he’d said. Hey, man. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.

I know, Price said. But he didn’t laugh, and he couldn’t bring himself to say it was okay. It wasn’t, and he remembered why he didn’t hang out with his friends anymore.

The awkwardness had returned.

Well. Rebecca broke it first, stepping forward and putting her arms around his neck. We’ll miss you. Have a great, great year.

Tim stepped up next, thumping Price heartily on the back. As soon as you have your license, you come and visit. Virginia Beach is only an hour away. Make sure you bring your dad’s car. They all turned to admire the black BMW.

Price nodded, already worn out from trying to act normal. Yeah. Of course.

He said goodbye to the rest of the team. Rebecca was sniffling, and he felt like he should say something more to her, offer her something. Condolences? Why?

Well. He kicked at the paved street with his toe. It’s been great.

Price, his dad called. Time to go.

Price jerked his head in acknowledgment. Coming. He faced them all one last time, a heavy feeling in his chest. Bye.

Bye, they echoed.

He walked away, wondering if that had felt as empty to them as it did to him. These were the kids he’d trick-or-treated with, the ones he’d gone camping with, egged houses with, even smoked his first cigarette with. And it was like he didn’t know them. Or rather, they didn't know him.

He watched the house until the car drove around the corner, and then he exhaled loudly. The Price Hudson of Chesapeake was no more. Whatever his life was now, he was a different person.

Wait till you see the house, his dad said, his voice upbeat and cheerful, if not a bit forced. It’s huge, bigger than our house at the Bay. Has two stories.

I’ve seen pictures, Dad, Price interrupted. He stared at the interstate as it flew by, wishing they were going farther away. Virginia Beach was too close. They’d been there as a family too many times. At least Pungo was twenty minutes from there, in the boonies. The house had been on the market for ages, and his dad was desperate to get out of the Bay. Quickly. This way he could still commute to work, but everything else would change.

Well, I know, Mr. Hudson said, his tone slightly flustered. But seeing pictures and seeing the house are two different things.

Price didn’t comment. He understood the difference. He also knew he wouldn't care either way. They could sleep in a tent from now on and he wouldn’t care.

Can I have a swing set? Lisa asked. She’d been heartbroken that they were leaving hers behind, but it was so old and rusty that when Price and Mr. Hudson tried to pull it up, it just fell apart.

Of course, sweetie, Mr. Hudson said.

Price glanced back at her, wedged in the backseat with the dog. What do you need a swing set for? Just jump on Sisko and make him carry you around.

She smiled, burying her face in the golden fur so only her eyes peeped out at him. He doesn’t like that.

She said it with all the confidence of someone who had tried that already, and Price laughed. Though their mother’s death had affected Lisa, he had done everything in his power to shield his six-year-old sister from the earth-shattering devastation he felt. He’d taken over being the happy attentive caregiver when neither of his parents could. He’d surrounded her with imaginary friends and childish activities whenever she started to feel neglected.

As long as she was still smiling, Price felt some light in his heart.

Mr. Hudson pulled off the interstate, and Price knew they must be close. He watched the houses grow farther and farther apart until miles of farmland separated the small clusters of dwellings. They turned off the paved road onto a gravel street, and Price sat up straighter.

Tell me we don’t live on this street, he demanded.

What? It’s not so bad.

Dad! He groaned and fell back against the seat. I can’t ride my bike on this!

His dad sent him an exasperated look. You’ll just have to get dirt tires.

Like, yesterday, Price thought. He could only see five houses on the road before it curved out of sight.

Here, Mr. Hudson said with a sigh, pulling up beside the moving van idling in the long driveway.  A fence embraced the yard, split-rail, with a space on the left for the electric gate. The gate was open in front of the driveway, awaiting the arrival of their car. At the end of the driveway was a large, two-story plantation-style house, complete with shutters and pillars and—

It has a swing! Lisa was out the door and running for the porch, where a white swing hung from chains.

The house and its wooden fence were idyllic for sure, but that wasn't what had Price’s attention. Dad, he said, staring at the crumbling house next door, how can we live here?

His dad got out of the car and Price followed, his eyes riveted on the overgrown yard that threatened to swallow their neighbor’s sagging porch.

Don’t judge them, Price, Mr. Hudson said, pressing his lips together. You don’t know what’s going on in their lives.

Price grunted. For sure. He knew they either didn’t own a lawn mower or didn't like to use it. Dad, they have chickens. He could see the coop from here.

We’re in the country now. You’ll see lots of animals.

As if to prove a point, a sharp wind blew their way, carrying with it the unmistakable tangy smell of animal waste. Price wheeled away, too disgusted to even complain.

Let’s start moving boxes into the house! his dad called after him.

Gotta go claim my room first, he replied. Anything to get away from that smell.

Lisa wasn’t on the porch swing anymore, so Price assumed she’d gone inside. Lisa? he called, entering the house. The kitchen was to the right when he entered. He kept going, finding a large living room with exposed beams in the tall ceiling. A staircase led to a landing, and he could see two doors up there.

Lisa? His voice echoed oddly in the empty house.

Here! She appeared in a doorway to the left of the living room, a big smile on her face. I found my room!

He followed her to a hallway with two bedrooms. The bigger bedroom had a huge bathroom attached to it. Lisa raced past it and sat down on the carpet of the smaller room.

You can have the other room, she offered.

Thanks, he said. I’m going to explore upstairs.

Okay. She didn’t budge. Maybe she was afraid Price would try to take her room.

He headed up the stairs. The interior of the house looked like a cabin, everything wood and pine. Someone had apparently not been sure if they wanted colonial or western. Or southern. What did Price know? He wasn’t an architect.

The first door he opened was a bathroom. Simple, with a shower, toilet, and a sink. He kept going down the hall and opened to a bedroom. He stepped inside. A window to his left overlooked the yard and street. Moving closer to it, he could see the sagging roof of the neighbor’s house. He shook his head. A good rainstorm would blow that place over.

He turned around and opened the accordion doors over the closet. This would work.

He trooped back downstairs. I’ll take the room upstairs, Price said, interrupting his dad as he talked to the movers. Price twisted his body, evading them as they carried a couch up the porch steps.

That’s great. Mr. Hudson turned slightly, and Price saw that he hadn’t been talking to a mover, but to a boy about Price’s age. Price, this is Michael. He lives down the street.

Hi, Michael said with a wave. He tossed his head, the straight bleached blond hair falling right back into his eyes. Even his feet were tanned in his flip flops. Tell me which boxes are yours, I’ll help you move in.

Oh—okay. Caught off guard and not quick enough to think of an excuse, Price climbed into the truck and searched for something of his. Finding a box, he pushed it toward Michael while he grabbed another.

This is heavy, Michael grunted. He followed Price up the stairs.

Sorry, Price said. We’re almost there.

They reached the room in the corner, and Michael let his box drop to the ground. What’s in here, anyway?

Price shrugged. Without asking, Michael bent down and opened it. His eyes lit up at the sight of the comic books. You’ve got tons!

You can borrow some. Price sat down on the floor across from the box. What grade are you in?

I’m a sophomore. School started this week, by the way. You’ve already missed four days.

Yeah, it just worked out that way. I’m a sophomore, too.

Awesome. Maybe we’ll have some classes together. He set aside two comic books. Play any sports?

Price’s shoulders tightened, and he forced himself to relax. No. The word came out too quickly, and he winced. I like to ride my bike, he added, trying to soften the negative response.

That’s cool. I’ve never really been into bike riding.

The sound of a loud, broken muffler blasted outside, and Michael stood up to gaze out the window. Probably want to keep this closed at night. You’ll hear them yelling.

Price joined him, and they both stared down at the beat-up green car that parked in a patch of weeds in front of the old house. Yelling?

Yeah. Sometimes I’m outside late and I hear them. Or we drive by and see the cops. They’re always fighting.

Figures. Price rolled his eyes. All he could see from here was the top of the man’s head as he climbed the porch steps and disappeared inside.

He reminded himself that it was better here than in Chesapeake. Here, no one knew him. He didn’t have to relive the past months over and over again every time someone looked at him with sympathetic eyes. So what’s their deal, anyway?

Don’t really know. Michael settled himself on the window sill. We all stay away from them. They had a daughter, Kylee. She went to school with us for a few years before she quit.

She quit? Price had never known a drop-out.

Yeah. About a year ago. And then— he shrugged.

Then what? Price asked, fascinated in spite of himself.

Kylee disappeared. Maybe two months ago.

Price’s eyes narrowed. What do you mean, disappeared? Like, you just never saw her outside anymore, or she stopped hanging out with everyone?

Well, she never really hung out with us. But yeah, she vanished. It was in the news. Michael’s pocket buzzed, and he pulled a phone out. Better go. My mom’s texting. She only does that when she’s mad. See ya tomorrow?

Yeah. Price shrugged. I’ll be in school.

Great. Well, it was nice to meet you.

MICHAEL SAID OUR NEIGHBORS fight a lot. Price pushed the rubbery spaghetti noodles around on his plate, wishing his dad would give up trying to cook and just order food. I guess we’ll see the cops around here. The camping chair he sat in didn’t quite reach the table, and it swayed every time he leaned forward. But at least they weren’t on the floor.

Hmm. That’s too bad. Are you ready for school tomorrow?

I’m so excited, Lisa said, her eyes lighting up. She had the same brown hair as he did, but she had their dad’s blue eyes. First grade!

You’re so grown up, Mr. Hudson said with a fond smile.

Grown up enough I think you can start clearing the table, Price said. Starting tonight. He pushed his plate toward her and raised an eyebrow.

She glanced at their father uncertainly. I’m not sure I can reach the dishwasher yet.

So not true, Price said. I’ve seen you getting creative when you want a snack.

Yeah, but . . .

Price was only teasing. He still has dish duty.

Blah blah blah. Price took the paper plate and tossed it into the large garbage bag hanging from one of the maroon cabinet doors. At least it’s easy tonight. He faced his dad, crossing his arms over his chest. Are we riding the bus tomorrow?

Let me see. Mr. Hudson pulled a pair of glasses from his pocket, then flipped through his phone. Yes. It comes at seven-ten and stops at the top of the street. You’ll be on the same bus.

Price glanced at his little sister. And then what? Do I get off at her school and walk her to class?

No, tomorrow you’ll be by yourself. I’ll take Lisa to school.

You don’t have to, she said, slurping her noodles. I remember from orientation.

But I want to, Mr. Hudson said, patting her head. He glanced at Price. I can take the day off. Make sure you find your classes.

Not the first impression he wanted to make. I’m sure I’ll find my way around. Price felt the first stirrings of emotion at the thought of school, an odd mixture of curiosity, hope, and dread. A new high school. He wasn’t one of the cool kids here. He wasn’t anything. Guess I better get to bed, then.

He entered his bedroom and was startled by a brief sense of deja vu. The movers had brought up his twin bed and tucked it against the wall, just like he’d had it in the old house. His computer desk was adjacent to the window, beside the bedroom door. The bookshelf, though still empty, rested next to the closet. If the walls weren't bare, he’d almost think it was the same room. No wonder he’d been drawn to it.

The air up here was stifling, and he wondered if his dad had turned on the AC yet. Price crossed to the window and slid it open. The late August evening blew in breezy against his face. He leaned into it, inhaling. It smelled different here.

A light below caught his eye, and Price pressed his face against the screen. It came from a bedroom in the house next door. Curious, he removed the screen and poked his head outside. There was someone there. He couldn't tell for sure from here, but the shadow looked like a girl. That’s all he could see. Then the light turned off, and he saw nothing.

Well, if the neighbor girl had vanished, it looked like she was back. Price pulled his head back in and collapsed on his bare mattress, suddenly exhausted.

CHAPTER TWO

THE CROWING ROOSTER startled Price awake before his alarm went off. He buried his head under the pillow, but it was no use. He tossed the blankets off and started through his morning routine: showering, cereal, backpack.

Except now it was different, because there was no mother getting Lisa ready and urging him out the door. His dad had to leave for work and didn’t have time to worry about them.

Today, at least, his little sister wasn’t an issue. She and his dad left ten minutes before Price. Spotting Michael through the kitchen window, he locked up the house and hurried down the driveway, jogging around the moving van still parked along the side. A cricket chirped somewhere close by, and the rising sun cast red and orange ribbons through the lightening sky.

Michael! he called.

The other boy turned around, tossing his head so his blond hair flew out of his eyes. Hey. Your dad’s making you ride the bus on your first day of school?

He’s taking my sister and has to get to work after. Still has his job in Chesapeake. I’m good.

I’ll help you. Have your schedule?

Yeah. They passed the creepy house, and Price fought the urge to look at it. The green car was gone, but otherwise, there were no signs of life. Completely dark and quiet. Printed it last night. He pulled the crumpled sheet of paper from his backpack.

Hey, Michael, a female voice said, and Price looked up. They’d reached the top of the hill and joined about three other kids waiting for the bus, all different ages. A pretty girl with brown hair that fell in soft curls around her shoulders waved at them. She pulled on her backpack straps and looked at Price, her head cocked.

Hi, Amy, Michael said, poking her foot with his. This is Price. He moved in next to Kylee’s old place.

Nice to meet you. She appraised him, her eyes going from his shoes to his hair. What brings you out to Pungo?

Price shrugged. That wasn’t really her business.

The bus arrived, the air brakes screeching as it pulled to a stop. Price followed behind Michael and sat next to him. Amy plopped down in front of them and turned around, resting her chin on her forearm.

Let me see your schedule, Michael said, holding out a hand. Price obliged him.

Okay, on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, you have world history, public speaking, baseball, advanced computer programming, and geometry. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, you have advanced French, health, and art appreciation.

Yeah, I know, Price said. I read it already.

Art appreciation, Amy giggled.

You have French with me and Amy. Michael looked up. There’s only one advanced French class for sophomores. The juniors and seniors have to take AP.

Price nodded. He didn’t mention that his mom was French and he’d spent three months in France a few years ago. He hadn’t been able to let go of his love of the language, even though every nasalized vowel and lilting word reminded him of her.

And baseball. Michael handed back the schedule. Are you on the team?

I’m dropping that class. He shoved his schedule into his backpack.

Why?

It’s a mistake. I don’t play.

Oh. Michael’s lip curled downward. Too bad. I’m on the team. What are you going to take for your PE requirement?

Price lifted a shoulder. He’d worry about that later.

He tried not to be overwhelmed by his first glimpse of the high school. The circular, modern facility ate up several acres. Smaller out-buildings decorated the perimeter.

We’re the first class to get this building, Michael said. Well, us and everyone else attending. They just completed the remodel this year.

It’s nice, Price said, crossing his fingers he didn’t get hopelessly lost.

He managed to find his first class without too much difficulty. It passed exactly as he expected it to: the teacher introduced him, everyone murmured hello, and then she continued into a litany of history that was only remotely interesting. Price tried to pay attention. Now that he was done with sports, he needed his grades to get him into college.

It was hard to make himself care about something so far away.

Amy found him wandering the hall after first hour and dragged him to his public speaking class, a good seven-minute jaunt from one wing to the other.

Thank you, Price said, embarrassed. I hope you don’t get in trouble for being late.

She laughed, her fingers feathering over his forearm. I’m good at getting out of trouble. She flashed him a smile that left him slightly tongue-tied, then slipped down the hall.

The tardy bell rang right before he stepped inside, but Price’s late entrance was forgotten in the wake of another student who came barreling in after him, slamming into his seat so hard that the desk scooted forward with a screech. Price seated himself quietly and unnoticed, while the other kids laughed at the boy, who grinned unabashedly at the teacher.

Christopher, she said, not batting an eye. That’s your third tardy this week. Did you want detention?

Ah, Ms. Allan! he said, eyebrows arching upward. It’s the first week of school. I’m still trying to get used to how long it takes to get over here. I promise I’ll do better next week. Please?

The girls behind him giggled, and Price rolled his eyes. This idiot thought he ruled the school. A few flattering remarks and carefully placed smiles, and the world would do whatever he told it to do. He could have what he wanted. Until his mom got cancer, and no matter how he pleaded, cajoled, begged, and prayed, nothing he did would change it.

Price shook off his thoughts. Christopher might be who Price was a year ago, but Price had changed. He’d never be that boy again.

PRICE DIDN’T BOTHER going out to the baseball fields. Since when was baseball a class, anyway? It was a sport. Instead he went to the office.

Hmm, the receptionist said, pursing her lips behind her computer screen. Are you sure? I’m showing here that your school sent in your records, and you made the team by default. You were one of the lettering players at your old school.

He clenched his jaw and shifted his feet, trying not to get angry. It wasn’t this lady’s fault. Yeah, well, I decided I didn’t want to play anymore. I want to focus on other things. Maybe try a new hobby.

She met his eyes over the computer screen. If I change your schedule, you won’t be able to play fall ball and might not be able to play with the team in the spring. This class is a prerequisite for all transferring members.

I don’t want to play, he snapped, losing his patience. I'm done with baseball! He let out a slow breath when he realized his hands were clenched and his arms shook. I don’t want to play anymore, he said again in a softer tone.

Okay. Her fingers clacked away at the keyboard. I can’t fit in another PE class, so you’ll still have that in front of you. If you change your mind about baseball, talk to the coach. He might be able to work something out for you.

Thanks, Price murmured.

The printer powered up and kicked out a new schedule for him. He picked it up and stared at the replacement class. Oceanography.  Well, at least he’d get another of his core classes out of the way.

He’d told his dad he was done with baseball. It burned him that he hadn’t listened.

Ten minutes into his advanced computer programming class, Price could already tell it would be too easy. A self-taught hacker, he could read computer code like most people read the alphabet. He had to pretend to be learning, or he knew from experience that the teacher would find harder work for him.

He glanced at his phone resting on his leg under the desk, but it was silent. No one from home had bothered reaching out to him. Maybe they were as relieved as he was that he’d moved.

The elementary school kids were already on the bus by the time the high schoolers walked on. Lisa was there, and she kept up such a constant chatter about her first day that he didn't have to talk at all, much to his relief. She didn’t stop until Price unlocked the front door, releasing a very excited Sisko.

Listen, Lisa, he sad, interrupting her monologue, I’m going to boil some water for dinner. What do you want today? Hot dogs or ramen?

Macaroni and cheese, she replied, burying her face in Sisko’s fur.

Um, not one of the options. Price stuck his house key on the ring just inside the door. We don’t have butter.

Ramen, then.

Okay. Stay by the house. He glanced toward the neighbors’, but the green car hadn’t come home yet.

Price couldn’t find the pans. He discovered all the forks and spoons in the first box he opened, and then a mixing bowl and bread maker in the next. This box he closed back up and shoved in a corner. Garage sale material. No one in this house was going to use those.

The next had canned goods and boxed foods, which Price proceeded to unpack and load into the pantry. And another had plates and bowls.

By the time Price finished unpacking that one, an hour had passed, and he still had no pans. Giving up, he tossed a few hot dogs on a plate and nuked them in the microwave.

Lisa came back in, sweat dripping from her forehead and Sisko on her heels. She turned on the sink and bent her head under the stream of water.

Here, Price said, pushing an opened box her way. I’ve got cups.

Thanks, she said, taking one. Any ice?

Hey, now. Don’t be picky. He checked the ice-maker. Oh, you’re in luck.

She sipped her water and glanced around the stove, standing on tiptoes. Where’s the ramen? I don’t smell it.

Slight change in dinner plans. He opened up the microwave and pulled out the split hot dogs.

Do we have buns?

Not that I could find. But we have ketchup. Price opened the fridge and brandished the bottle.

Lisa sighed. Okay.

Sorry. Price sat down across from her at the table. This wasn’t really dinner food. It’ll get better.

It’s fine. She picked up a hot dog and took a bite, not looking very excited.

The house began to vibrate, and Price glanced around. Was this an earthquake?

What’s that? Lisa asked, and then the purr of a car filled the air, rumbling in from the garage adjacent to the kitchen. Daddy! she exclaimed, dropping her hot dog and running for the garage door.

The door into the hallway banged open. Hi, Princess! Mr. Hudson said, catching her as she threw herself at him. He stepped into the kitchen, half-carrying, half-dragging Lisa. Hi, Price.

Price waved his hot dog at his dad. Hi.

How was school?

Price shrugged, and Lisa launched into her First-Day-of-School-Take-Two speech.

I’ve got dinner. Mr. Hudson interrupted her long enough to place two cartons of Chinese take-out on the table.

Price’s spirits lifted immediately. Real food.

So I want to know about your day, Price, his dad said, spooning noodles and rice onto a plate. How did you like the high school?

It’s big. It’s new. Lots of kids. He bit his tongue to keep from yelling at his dad for putting him in baseball. It would bring up a discussion. And Price didn’t want one.

How were your classes?

Why did you sign me up for baseball? The words burst out of him against his will, as if not even his tongue could believe the outrage. He cringed, wishing he hadn’t spoken.

His father paused with the fork on the way to his mouth, his eyelids fluttering for a moment before he sat back in his chair. You’re so good at it. You've been an All-Star champion for seven years. I didn’t think you’d want to give that up.

We talked about this already, Price said, clenching his teeth. I told you I’m done. I don’t want to anymore.

I just thought you might change your mind once we got out here.

His dad was being way too calm about this, and it only made Price angrier. You didn't have that right!

Finally a spark lit in his dad’s eyes. I’m your father, Price. I do have that right.

You can’t make me play!

Mr. Hudson exhaled and shook his head. I won’t make you play. But I don’t understand why you don’t want to. You love baseball, Price. You were out there every day with your mom, catching that ball, practicing your— He cut himself off.

Price pushed his chair back. I’m going to my room.

Price. His dad pressed a hand over his eyes. She wouldn’t want you to quit.

I guess she should’ve stuck around, then. He shoved the chair into the counter and fled the kitchen.

The statement was unfair. She hadn’t wanted to die. But sometimes he just got so upset, and there was no one to blame it on.

He threw himself on his bed and stared at the ceiling, fighting the urge to find a baseball so he could toss it up and down.

NO ONE MENTIONED PRICE’S behavior at breakfast Saturday morning.

I hired a housekeeper, his dad said cheerfully as they munched on cereal. She’ll come every Friday to clean the house, do the laundry, all that stuff. But that’s six days away, so I need you guys to help me unpack and get organized today.

Sure, Price said, glad that yesterday’s conversation had been dropped.

He spent the morning hauling boxes of his stuff up to his room. He found most of his clothes and took some time to hang them up before shoving the rest in dresser drawers. He hated to admit how happy he was about having sheets and a blanket again, too. He put the box of comic books on his bookshelf.

You’re going to put your trophies up, right? his dad said, bringing up another box.

Price hadn’t planned on it. But if it would keep the peace, he’d do it. Yeah.

His dad put the box underneath the shelf before leaving the room, and Price began to unpack it. Trophies from sports he’d tried and given up on throughout the years mingled with the plethora of baseball ones. Baseball had been his life. Nothing had been as important to him as the stupid sport. He’d missed out on so much because he’d always been practicing or at a game.

At the bottom of the box, he found his shoebox of mementos. He hesitated with his hands on the lid, then slowly slid it open.

Her smiling face was the first thing he saw, and Price shut the lid. He shoved the box under his bed and exhaled slowly.

Dad, he said, plodding downstairs, I’m taking Sisko for a walk.

Be careful and don’t go far.

I won’t.

The grassy backyard extended about fifty feet before being swallowed up by thick forest. Their house in Chesapeake had been in a suburban neighborhood, all fences and small yards and cookie cutter houses. Thick trees with creeping vines were a new thing to Price. Sisko padded along beside him, tongue lolling, quite content to be out for a stroll.

The sunlight nearly disappeared behind the leaves as Price stepped under the tree canopy. The noises changed, too, with birds