Josh grinned at me over his shoulder, and I believe my heart grew three sizes that day. We all leaned forward and gave the sled a scootch or two, and the next thing I knew we were flying down the hill toward the back of Mason’s house. I heard high-pitched squeals and realized they were coming from me just before we all went over sideways and tumbled into the snow.
When he sat up laughing, Josh still had my bulldog safely in his arms. Myrtle wriggled free and bounced in the snow, chest down, butt up, and wiggling in delight. She barked happily, and I knew exactly what she was saying: “Again, again, again!”
Okay, so I was wrong. Doesn’t happen often, but it does happen.
I brushed the snow off myself and got to my feet. “I’m too old for this.”
Josh stood, too. “Nobody’s too old for this. C’mon, let’s do it again.”
“Yarf!” said Myrtle. Which meant, damn straight, we’re gonna do it again—and again and again until one of us is too tired to do it anymore. Three guesses who that’ll be, old lady.
What? She’s a very verbal dog.
* * *
Jeremy was messed up. Misty could tell. He couldn’t look her in the eye for very long. Aunt Rache said when someone couldn’t look you in the eye they were either hiding something, incredibly self-conscious or too distracted thinking about something else. Misty thought it was the third thing. He had a lot on his mind. She had to do most of the talking, but she was good at that.
“So where do you go to school?” she asked him.
“Holy Family. It’s private.”
“I go to public.”
“Oh.”
“Right here in the Point. Is that where you guys live?”
“A little south.”
“You a junior?”
“Senior.”
No encouragement to go on in his tone. Okay, whatev. She picked up a magazine from the coffee table. National Geographic. A good one to kill time with. Jeremy was kind of cute but a lousy conversationalist. “So what are you gonna do after graduation?” she asked after a bit.
“I don’t know.” He picked up his game controller, restarted his game.
Strike two, Misty thought.
“Maybe you should think about being a cop, like your uncle. I mean, you must have it in you, the way you saved their lives and all.”
“I wouldn’t want to have to do that again.”
Eyes straight ahead on the TV screen. He must be good, to be at the level he was in the game. Her mom would say that was only proof he spent way too much time gaming. Whatever.
“What was it like? Shooting that guy, I mean?”
He froze, didn’t look at her, just froze, and then the gunshot sound effects went off and the blood spatter on the screen told her someone had just offed him. Game Over.
He set the controller down and looked at her. “Not like shooting someone in the game.”
She smiled encouragingly and nodded at him to go on.
He shrugged. “He was just...he was. And then he wasn’t. I did that to him.”
“It bothers you.”
“Not really. I mean, he was gonna kill them. I didn’t have a choice. I’d do the same thing again. But it’s just...weird. How easy it happened.” He bit his lip, looking down. “Like how easy you go from being alive to being dead. Bam. Just like that. Like nothing happened, except you’re gone. You’re just...erased.”
She nodded. “This is creeping me out a little. Maybe a new topic?”
“Yeah, okay.”
He looked disappointed. Like he’d wanted to talk about it some more. “So...are you okay? I mean, you know, with your dad, and then that guy?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Mom made me go to therapy for a while after, but it’s all bull.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet.”
“I mean, if you pay someone to listen to you...”
“I hear you. And what do you say? You sit there trying to think up shit to take up the time, because you know it’s costing like a hundred-fifty an hour, and you wind up just making shit up.”
“Yeah.” He tilted his head to one side, looking her in the eyes finally. “You’ve been to therapy, huh?”
“Uh-huh. I lost like fifteen pounds during my first soccer season and Mom was just sure I was purging. You know.” She stuck her finger into her mouth and stuck her tongue out, the international symbol for gagging.
Jeremy smiled. It was very faint, just the slightest uptick at the corners of his mouth, but it was the first one she’d seen since they’d finished breakfast.
“Were you?” he asked.
“No. And gross. A halfback runs an average of eight miles in a game. I was just burning it off, that’s all.”
“Oh.”
“You play?”
“Not this year. Basketball, usually, but...not this year.”
“I wouldn’t, either, if it was my dad. I’m really sorry, Jeremy.”
“Thanks.”
She sighed and, not sure where to go from there, got up and paced to the double sliding glass doors facing the backyard. Looking out back, she grinned so wide it hurt, pulled her cell out of her pocket and started snapping pics. “Ohmygod, Jer, look at this!”
He twisted on the couch so he could see, then got up and came over to see better as Josh and her aunt Rachel came flying down the hill on a cheap plastic sled. The crazy dog was sitting right in the front, her ears flapping in the wind and her jowls pushed back so she looked like some kind of alien. “Aunt Rachel’s screaming her head off.”
“Look how big Josh is smiling,” Jeremy said. “He loves that dog.”
“I can tell. She looks like something out of Gremlins.”
He sent her a quizzical look. “Gremlins?”
The trio had reached the bottom and tumbled into the snow. They were already hiking back up for more.
“It’s an ancient movie my father insists on playing at least twice a year. Says it’s a classic.” She grinned. “I’ve got to get a few more pics. This is too good. I can blackmail Aunt Rache for the next six years with this.”
“Is it any good?” Jer asked.
