We Are Us

Chapter 3 Sackett, Co

Summer, Freshman Year, High School

“I can’t believe we start high school tomorrow.” I practically groan the words.

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m looking forward to it,” Gavin says, his tone much lighter than mine. “Homework, tests, hanging out with people whose names don’t start with P and end in Oppy.”

I give him a not-so-playful shove. “Hey!”

At my faux outrage, Gavin tips his head back and laughs. A low, rolling, entirely endearing laugh that sends goose bumps scattering across my skin. I take advantage of the opportunity to step a little closer, pulling the scent of him into my lungs. As always, Gavin smells like pinecones and clean laundry, but now layered with sunscreen and bug repellant—a necessity until we hit sweater weather.

I let out a little sigh of pleasure. At his laugh, at his scent, at his proximity. I’ve missed you.

Gavin and I have barely seen each other this entire summer. I’ve been working as a counselor for the local camp organized by Sackett’s parks and rec department. It runs every week of summer break, from eight in the morning until six at night. And he’s spent nearly every day pumping gas and stocking shelves at the gas station and convenience store his foster dad manages.

The thought is still pulsing inside my mind when Gavin nudges me with his elbow, pointing at something outside the cave. “Look.”

I look over just in time to see a red fox scurrying through the underbrush. Two baby fox kits, not much bigger than squirrels, trail behind, their tiny legs racing to keep up.

“A family,” I whisper softly, watching until they disappear from sight.

In an odd way, I am struck by the similarity to my own. My sister and I, chasing after our mother, sticking as close as we can in the hopes that she won’t lose us, leave us behind.

I’m certain that’s why Sadie has never followed me into the woods. She’s afraid that if she leaves the house too, my mother won’t be home when we return. In the begi

“You think the dad’s around here somewhere?” I ask. “Or did he lose interest after the fun part of making babies?”

Gavin’s shoulders lift in an unconcerned shrug. “I’m not exactly up to speed on the mating habits of foxes. But they look fine to me.”

“Better one parent who gives a shit than two who don’t, I guess.”

The second the words leave my mouth, I feel him tense up beside me. “That’s for sure.”

Shit. I want to race after my thoughtless remark and stuff it back down my throat.

Before I can apologize, or think of a way to wipe the sad look off Gavin’s face, he asks, “You ever see your dad, Poppy?”

I shake my head. “N— No. Not since I was little. I barely remember him.”

“Does it bother you that he’s not around?”

“Not really.” I release a sigh and lean back on my palms. “It’s hard to miss something you’ve never had, I guess.”

A lazy breeze barely shakes the green canopy overhead, the leaves reflecting and amplifying the summer sun. Our cave offers a cool haven from the warm, humid air of the forest. Since discovering it last spring, we’ve turned it into our secret hideaway. I brought a camp light I unearthed at the Salvation Army and Gavin found some old, mismatched cushions that provide a buffer from the cold, damp cave floor.

Despite the direction of our conversation, I feel cozy and comfortable here with Gavin. More cozy and comfortable than I can ever remember being anywhere, or with anyone. And it occurs to me that, for all the time we’ve spent together—we haven’t shared very much about ourselves. Not the important things, anyway.

Strangely, it makes me want to be cozy and un-comfortable. To do more than just skirt the truth about why I wound up here, in Sackett. Why I don’t know my dad and don’t really trust my mom.

She likes to say, “two wrongs don’t make a right.” But, in this moment, I don’t believe her. What feels right is wanting to share all my wrongs with Gavin. And for him to do the same.

I clear my throat, pulling my hair free of its ponytail so it falls over my shoulders in a messy, windswept tumble. “My mom is a drug addict, Gavin. That’s why Sadie and I were taken from her.”

He turns to me in surprise, his eyes swirling with questions but devoid of judgment. I fill him in on my past, my tone matter-of-fact, eventually linking the initial strand of our conversation by saying, “Things are… okay now. I don’t know if my dad was the reason my mom got into drugs, but if seeing him again would make her self-medicate with anything stronger than a bottle of wine—” I pause, my thoughts turning inward as memories scroll through my mind like a slideshow. Memories I wish I knew how to erase.

Gavin pats my hand reassuringly and the urge to intertwine my fingers with his brings me back to the present. “Sorry, I got a little lost in my head for a minute.”

“It’s okay. I get it.” He offers a solemn nod, his gaze remaining warm and steady on mine. “Really.”

“How about you?” I ask tentatively, not at all sure Gavin will want to open up to me any more than he already has. “Do you miss your parents?”

Gavin is quiet for several beats, and my stomach gurgles with uneasiness and self-recrimination. What if my feelings are one-sided? What if Gavin isn’t interested in being uncomfortable—at least, not with me?

But then he rubs his palms on his knees, little brackets shaped like crescent moons appearing at the edges of his mouth as he presses his lips together. “Sometimes. But then I remember how things were and I’m glad to be away from them. I probably could have dealt with being my father’s punching bag. It was covering for him that was the worst. Lying to the nurse as she was stitching me up. Backing up my mom’s stories about falling down stairs or walking into cabinet doors.”

“Why did you?”

“Because my mom asked me to. And I thought I was doing the right thing.” He exhales a heavy breath. “I should have told the truth—I know that now. My dad’s a real piece of shit. But my mom accepted it. She loved him—even though he hurt her, hurt me. Sometimes, I swear she’d pick a fight just for the adrenaline rush of an argument, and the apologies and attention she’d get afterward.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, wishing I could come up with something better. “Do you think you’ll ever see them again?”

“Doubtful.” He blinks a few times, the outline of his iris deepening to a rich cobalt while the inside gets lighter, as pale as a robin’s egg. “I don’t know that I want to.”

He breaks our stare, rubbing at the frown crossing his forehead. “I wish I knew how my mom was doing though. If things are better for her without me around. I hope they are, anyway.”

When my mom chose drugs over Sadie and me, at least I could tell myself that her addiction was a disease, that she was sick.

But Gavin… what is the voice inside his head telling him?

Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s not kind.

“Every once in a while, my mom would talk about ru

My heart breaks for Gavin as he confirms my suspicions—that he feels abandoned. “Maybe she stayed with your dad to keep you safe.”