I backed away from the window and let the curtains fall into place. And then I ripped them open again. Because in the house on the corner, the curtains were moving. Like someone was rushing by, pulling the curtains along and letting them drop again. Someone faster than an old woman with an oxygen tank.

“I saw something, Dad,” I said, shivering. Still, he didn’t respond.

He rubbed my arms until the beeping of the microwave called him back to the kitchen.

Dad handed me a long white pill that I recognized from the hospital. “For sleep,” he said as he led me back to the couch. He held the mug of hot chocolate as I sipped from it since my hands were still trembling. Then he turned on the television and watched infomercials with me until the first rays of light colored the room a deep bronze and I started to drift away. The hot drink warmed me from the inside out, but my stomach yearned for vanilla-flavored snow. My mouth salivated for it. I drowned the urge with chocolate instead.

Chapter 5

When I woke up, Mom was standing over us with her hands on her hips. The infomercials had given way to local news. She looked at Dad, snoring lightly on the sofa in his flannel pants and long robe. She looked at me, still in my boots, still wearing a scarf over my pajamas, huddled on the other end. And she looked at the coffee table, two empty mugs on the bare wood. She didn’t say anything. She picked up the cups, went into the kitchen, and made eggs.

The house transformed into a living entity. It smelled of life, fluttered with activity, absorbed sounds, and produced warmth. This was no longer the stale house with icicle teeth. I contemplated skipping breakfast for about half a second before sitting down at the kitchen table. Like I said, I had started to fill out recently. I wasn’t athletic and had no desire to work out, so I watched what I ate. Correction: I ate what I wanted and felt guilty about it later.

I glanced at the clock over the stove and shoveled food into my mouth.

“Slow down, honey. You’re going to make yourself sick again.”

“I’m late,” I said.

Mom cocked her head to the side. “Late? Oh, honey, you’re not going back today. It’s too soon.”

I dropped my fork with an angry clatter. “Finals start Monday! I’m two weeks behind. I need to be there for the reviews.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t care about your grades right now.”

“Well, I certainly do. You know how many points separate me and Janna right now? None. Less than a hundredth of a point actually. I’m going.”

“You’re not.”

“Decker will take me.”

“Decker’s not taking you anywhere.” As if on cue, the doorbell rang.

I raced Mom to the door, but she was faster and her ribs weren’t broken. Dad opened his eyes at the commotion. Mom swung the front door open, and I peered around her shoulder. Decker stood on the front porch in worn jeans and a thick brown leather jacket. He ducked his head down into the collar as a strong gust blew through the yard. “Hey, Joanne.”

He smirked at me hovering in the background. “And Delaney.” He caught a glimpse of my attire and took a step back. “My mom said you wouldn’t come today, but I wasn’t sure. I didn’t want to leave you just in case.”

“Wait two minutes,” I said, spinning toward the steps.

Mom gripped my shoulder. “She’s not going today, Decker. But thank you for being so thoughtful.”

She closed the door, and I went to the front window. Decker climbed into his gold minivan, a hand-me-down from his parents. I teased him mercilessly, but at least he had a car. As he started the engine, he gave one last look toward my house. I raised my hand in the window. He smiled and moved his lips to say something, but I couldn’t tell what it was through two layers of glass and twenty feet of cold air.

I gave in to Mom. Dad and Mom had a private discussion, and then Dad went off to work. Mom baked a lasagna for the night, humming to herself over the stove. I showered and sat in my room, watching the planets of my solar system mobile dance from the blast of heat coming from the vent in the ceiling. The sun spun and unwound itself. I breathed in and out slowly, happy that everything felt natural. No pulling. No itching. No twitching. Just a normal girl home sick from school. I dozed on and off, grateful for my own bed.

I woke to the sound of the front door slamming shut. Then I heard voices out my window. I left the comfort of my bed and looked outside. Mom stood at the corner of the street with some other neighbors. They hovered around a police car in Mrs. Merkowitz’s driveway. And then they all turned to watch as an ambulance pulled up to the curb, its sirens off.