Where We Used to Roam by Jenn Bishop (best novels to read in english .TXT) 📗

of paper into thirds and tucked it into my backpack pocket, where it sat with Austin’s address.

“How you making out, A?”

Austin wasn’t kidding. Dad never took time off from the station unless it was a holiday or we were on vacation, but Mom didn’t trust Austin unattended and she had some work to do at the store, so Dad was on duty. He must’ve set a timer on his phone, reminding him to check on Austin every fifteen minutes.

Was that how they’d be when the rehab center discharged Austin? Checking on him every fifteen minutes, watching him like he was a toddler? Would it be like that forever? Would we ever go back to normal?

Maybe it was okay that I was going to be in Wyoming and not here when Austin came back.

“All packed up?” Dad peeked his head in my room.

“Pretty much.”

He half closed the door behind him. “I’m really impressed by how you’ve handled everything, E. You’re really taking one for the team.”

The team, again. So I was on the team. The best player, even. Then how come I felt like such a failure? I’d failed Austin and Becca. And now I was running away from all of it. All the way to Wyoming.

“You’re going to have so much fun out west. I just wish we could be with you. Maybe next summer. Promise to scout out all the good spots and report back?”

“Sure,” I said, beaming back at Dad.

He kissed the top of my head. “That’s my girl.” He ran his hands through his hair. “All right, back to check on that brother of yours.”

As he left, I grabbed my phone from the bedside table and started typing a message to Becca. I’m so sorry about everything. I’m leaving for Wyoming tomorrow. There’s something I have to tell you. It’s about Austin. Can we talk? Please.

But like all the other ones from the past few days, I deleted it instead of hitting send.

NOW

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

We hit the ground with a big bump, the airplane’s brakes squealing as we careen down the runway. Immediately I turn off airplane mode on my phone and text Dad. Landed.

From beneath the seat in front of me, I pull out my backpack and slide in the sketchbook with my failed attempt at a letter to Becca. As if a letter could somehow fix things. As if a letter could ever be enough.

I clutch my backpack to my chest as we taxi over to a gate. The guy next to me wakes up and slides his headphones off. “Visiting Denver?” he asks.

“Wyoming, actually.”

“All by yourself? You’re braver than me.”

I doubt that and offer him a small shrug. He doesn’t ask what brings me out this way. Even if he did, I’m not sure what I’d tell him. The truth? Part of the truth? Or some white lie, made up on the spot?

When we land, I’m met by my escort, a short young woman named Jessica with long shiny black hair. We walk for what feels like forever, eventually passing by a store selling purple-and-gray Colorado Rockies T-shirts, and that’s when I feel it, feel it for real. How far I am from Boston, from my family, from everyone I know.

It’s like my parents traded me to another team for the summer. Another family. I haven’t even been gone twenty-four hours—I can’t be homesick. Not yet.

We take the escalator down to the train toward baggage claim, and while we’re on it, I get a text from my dad. Let us know when you’ve found Delia. Love you. The train comes to a stop, and I shove my phone into my backpack. At baggage claim I start looking for them—Delia; her husband, Chris; and Sadie. Mom wasn’t sure if all three of them would make the drive, but she hoped Sadie would tag along.

The thing is, I don’t even know who I’m looking for exactly. They used to send us Christmas cards every year with a photo of the three of them. Mom’d tack it on the fridge with one of her bajillion 26.2 magnets. The photo was always of something exciting they’d done that year—an African safari or a baseball game in Tokyo. Delia’s a teacher, so she gets summers off, which always makes Mom jealous. She says some summer she’ll trust Betsy to run the store and Dad’ll take a sabbatical from the station, but who is she kidding? Not me.

“Emma?”

Standing by the ATM is a tall, tan woman in yoga pants, her short curly brown hair kept back by a headband. I search her face and see a glimmer of the woman from the Christmas cards. Finally someone I know! Well, sort of.

I say goodbye and thank you to Jessica and head to Delia, who wraps me tight in a bear hug. “So great to see you, kid. I can’t believe how long it’s been. Too long. Way too long.” She takes a step back. “Oh, Emma, you look so much like your mom.”

“Really?” No one ever says that back home. They always say I look like Dad. His build, his eyes, his complexion. That Austin’s all Mom. Athletic and fidgety, always needing to be busy. The only thing I got from Mom was my hair, thick and blond and way more of it than I can handle.

“Oh, so much, kid.” She whips around. “Darn it. Where’d Sadie wander off to now?” Delia pats my arm. “Probably needed to charge her phone again. Let’s go grab your suitcase.”

We head to the conveyor belt and quickly spot my bag. A teenage girl with long brown hair wearing cutoffs and a way-too-big tank top wanders over to us, chewing on the straw of a Starbucks frappé.

That’s Sadie? I focus hard, trying to find pieces of that girl from the picture way back when, but I can’t. I see bits of Delia in her, though. The same nose and posture.

Sadie turns to me.