Brant, age 18
“June’s gone.”
Theo and I both jolt from our places in front of the television, our Final Fantasy marathon long forgotten. Yoshi scrambles off the bed, nails clicking against the hardwood floor while he darts from the bedroom, as if he’s equally daunted.
“What?” I blurt.
I heard her the first time. Maybe I just didn’t want to hear her.
Samantha Bailey pulls a blue ink pen out of her hair and begins clicking the end of it, over and over, as if that might tell her where June went. “She wanted to go to the mall to meet up with her friends, but I told her no, because of the snowstorm, and—”
“I’ll head to the mall.” I’m already pulling a wool sweater over my head and beelining toward the doorway. It’s the first snow of the season, and it’s coming down fast and hard—but I’ll drive all over this town until I find her, shitty tires be damned.
Theo is right on my heels. “Who was she meeting there?” he calls over his shoulder to his mother. “I’ll see if she left her phone behind.”
“She’s a preteen,” I remind him. “She didn’t leave her phone behind.”
Samantha trails behind us, panicking under her breath. “Lord help me… I’ll call Celeste’s mother again. I already tried twice, and it went to voicemail.”
I pop my snow boots on, one by one, nearly tipping over in the foyer. Theo tosses me my car keys, and I catch them easily as I say to him, “She could have walked down to Celeste’s. It’s not far. And if she’s not there, we can split up. Cover more ground.”
“Aye-aye, Luigi.”
“I’ll stay here in case she comes home. If she’s not back within the hour, I’m calling the police,” Samantha says worriedly as we zip up our puffy coats. She places a hand over her heart, gripping the fabric of her cardigan with glossy eyes. “Please, be careful.”
Nodding, I signal at Theo and we both make our way out into the December blizzard. Big, fat flurries rain down from a pearl-gray sky, almost as fast as my heart is jackhammering inside my chest. I stomp through the several inches of freshly fallen snow, and we both hop into my Corolla, hoping the squealing belt I need to replace doesn’t snap and get us killed.
Where the hell are you, Junebug?
She’s growing up fast.
God… she’s growing up too fast. She’ll be a teenager in six short months, and we’ve already been getting a taste of what’s to come—the hormones, the sass, the emotions.
The boys.
Jesus—the boys are going to kill me. She has a crush on a kid named Marty, and I don’t even know Marty, but I already want to sit Marty down and interrogate the crap out of him in regard to his intentions with June.
I realize he’s twelve.
Of course, he will only have twelve-year-old intentions, like going to the junior high dance, or eating pretzel bites and ice cream cones at the mall food court. Possibly ice skating down at the rink.
But hell, you never know, and sociopaths can be identified early these days.
What if he’s a miniature Ted Bundy in the making?
What if he’s a Dexter enthusiast?
What if he’s…
What if he’s just like my father?
“You’re thinking about her, huh?”
I flip on my wiper blades and ruffle the snowflakes out of my hair, trying to reverse out of the un-shoveled driveway. The car reeks of Wendy’s Newport cigarettes. “Aren’t you?” I counter, craning my neck to look out the rearview window.
“Of course I am. Peach is taking the whole ‘princess in peril’ thing to a very realistic level.” He throws a slushy boot up on my dashboard, shaking his own head of sandy brown hair before slinging it back against the headrest. “She’s too smart for her own good, you know.”
“Yeah, I know.” Stepping on the gas, the tires resist, tossing up sheets of white. I make three more attempts, then smack the wheel when we don’t budge. “Damnit.”
“Hell, I’ll shovel under the—”
“No time. We’re walking.”
Theo falters. There’s a fleeting pause, but it’s not hesitation I see when our eyes connect, my hazel locked on his dark blue. It’s a common thread. It’s a bond we’ve shared since I was six years old, when we stood at the edge of my driveway and made a promise to protect a little girl.
“Let’s go,” he says, swiftly moving from the vehicle and throwing up the hood of his oyster-toned coat. “Save Peach, then celebrate by kicking your ass at Mario Kart for old time’s sake.”
Shoving the car keys into my pocket, I shuffle up beside him and adjust my hat over my ears. Theo’s nose, slightly convex and dotted with a light spattering of freckles, is already turning pink in the upper-twenties temperatures, while little plumes of smoky breath dance through the air as he walks. We trudge down the secluded street toward the more populated neighborhood where Celeste lives, nearly shoulder to shoulder.
“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Theo muses, sifting through his pockets for the cigarettes he quit smoking two months ago. As if suddenly remembering, he tenses up, his jaw ticking. “I think it’s time I finally figure my shit out. Take those first steps. Get out of my parents’ house.”
My own breath transforms into icy tendrils as it hits the air. “I’ll help with whatever you need.”
“I know you will.” We share a quick glance before he ducks his head. “Shit, I’ve been a mess since Monica went off to college. Wallowing, you know? I really thought she wanted to stay local and make it work, so I put my own dreams on hold. Then I was too devastated to care about my dreams… but it’s time, man.” Theo lifts his chin, exhaling deeply into the winter draft that rolls through, glancing up at the clouds. “I want to be a cop.”
I’m instantly transported back in time, camped out beneath the wooden treehouse in our backyard with Theo and June. She was transfixed by a whimsical ladybug dancing across her brother’s finger as I blew raspberries onto her chubby belly, and it was the very first day I called her Junebug.
It was also the same day Theo announced his dream.
“I want to be a saver.”
Emotion rockets through me. A full-circle feeling. “That’s incredible, Theo,” I say, turning to look at him through the angry drizzle of snow. “I mean it. That’s really incredible.”
“Gotta maintain my Mario credibility, eh?” A smirk curls along his lightly stubbled jaw. “My trusty sidekick can hold down the fort here with June. For a little while, anyway.”
I nod tersely, and we quicken our gait.
The truth is, I don’t have much going for myself, either. I graduated high school this past spring with a dead-end job at a convenience store and an on-and-off again girlfriend I only like half of the time. Maybe I should start thinking about college.
Culinary school.
Hell, even a line cook position at a local diner would be a start.
Something has been holding me back, though…
Fear.
Fear that something will happen to June if I’m away at college or working long hours. Fear that she’ll start dating the wrong guy in a few years, and I won’t be around to keep an eye on her. Fear that she’ll get into an accident, or meet some predator on the internet, or start doing drugs.
Fear that I won’t be able to protect her.
It’s a senseless fear that has me spinning my wheels and chasing my tail… but, damnit, it’s real. It’s persuasive. It’s all-consuming.
Wendy keeps telling me to move out, to move in with her, but I’m not ready for that yet, and she doesn’t understand why.
And I don’t have an answer that holds any weight.
It’s hard to explain something that feels intangible.
As we’re about to cross the busy road into the suburban subdivision on the opposite side, a familiar car slows down at the mouth of our street, and we hop backward to avoid getting showered with wintery sludge.
It’s Andrew Bailey.
He inches his window down, his head and elbow poking out. “Your mother called me, so I left work right away. I already checked Celeste’s house, and she’s not there.”
“Shit.” I kick at the snow, my anxiety spiking. “Where could she have gone? I know she’s been moodier lately, but it’s not like her to run away…”
Theo moves around the hood of the car to the passenger’s side, his feet sliding over the wet snow. “Wherever you’re going, I’m going with. We can head to the mall—maybe a friend’s mom picked her up.”
“You coming?” Andrew wonders. He looks at me, the worried glaze over his eyes surely reflecting my own.
I consider it.
But I shake my head, knowing we’ll be more productive if we split up. “I’ll search on foot. She could’ve wandered off to the park or the sledding hill.”
A nod. “You have your phone? Keep me posted.”
“Yeah, I will.” I give the top of the vehicle a pat, then step back while Andrew does a three-point turn and drives off toward the mall.
Cold wind whips me, shooting a chill down my spine. I tug my hat down farther, rub my gloved palms together, then start walking.
McKinley Park is only a few blocks away, and June would ride her bike there frequently when the weather was milder. I’d go with her on occasion. Even when my high school friends were out partying and socializing, I’d be at the playground with June, shooting hoops, roller blading, or tossing a football back and forth.
That’s always how it’s been, though.
When she calls me, I’m there. If she needs me, I’m hers.
I was the one who missed the school’s homecoming dance because it fell on the same night as June’s dance competition.
I was the one cheering the loudest in the stands when her team scored first place in the regional division.
I was the one who took her out for ice cream to celebrate that night, then walked with her to the park where we sat on the swings and sang Over the Rainbow together beneath a sky of stars and moonglow.
And I’m still the one singing her lullabies.
I will be until she outgrows them.
My heart skips as I pick up speed, dodging mud and slush as tires whiz past me.
Where the hell are you, Junebug?
She knows better than to just take off in the middle of a blizzard.
But she’s twelve, and I suppose twelve-year-olds don’t always consider the consequences.
Not all adults do, either.
My boots march through the accumulating snow until I veer off to the left and breach the entrance of the park. When I round the corner, past the giant mound of snow that doubles as a sledding hill, past the clusters of squealing children and bundled-up parents…
I see her.
I see her. I found her. She’s okay.
Junebug.
Her cheeks are windburned, her long, light chestnut hair fluttering beneath her earmuffs. She brushes snow from her blue snow pants as she watches a group of kids skip stones across the surface of the frozen pond. Her Grams had bought her those same snow pants in purple for her birthday… but June knows I hate purple.
So, she begged her mother to take her to the department store to exchange them for a different color.
Just the image of her wearing them for the first time causes my heart to stutter.
I take a moment to catch my breath, bending over, hands to my knees. The relief of finding her, alive and well, is overwhelming and nearly cripples me.
But that relief is quickly replaced by niggling alarm when I notice who the other kids are—or rather, the fact that they’re not really kids at all. She’s surrounded by a bunch of seventeen and eighteen-year-olds, most of them unsavory.
One of them the worst of the worst.
Wyatt Nippersink. Wendy’s treacherous twin brother.
What the hell?
I straighten, my muscles locking. Then I move in closer, until the sound of her sweet voice captures my ears.
“I should go home, now,” she tells the crowd of notorious troublemakers. A few other children, various teens and preteens, float around the edge of the pond, dipping the toes of their boots onto the ice, then jumping back with laughter. June’s expression looks apprehensive as she glances around. “I only wanted to make snow angels. My brothers don’t like you.”
Wyatt sucks on a cigarette, his ears red and irritated from the cold. “Go on, Juney. It’s your turn. You can’t chicken out on us.”
My hackles rise. I have no idea what Wyatt is up to, but the asshole has had it out for me ever since I broke up with Wendy that first time in the middle of junior year. He’s always been a bully, but he took it to a highly personal level that night, almost breaking down our door, yelling about Wendy and her broken heart.
I suppose I couldn’t entirely blame him for looking out for his twin sister. June and I aren’t even related, and I’d do the exact same thing for her.
But this is different. This is crossing a line.
I advance on the group, a good ten yards away.
“I don’t want to,” June argues, stepping up to the iced-over water and peering down. “It’s too slippery.”
“Don’t be lame. I’ll go right after you, promise.”
My pace quickens, and I call out to her, “June!”
She snaps her chin up so fast, her earmuffs fall back on her head. Crystalline eyes that parallel the frosty pond widen when she spots me running toward her. “Bra—”
Wyatt snatches her by her puffy coat sleeve, then slings her onto the ice, laughing. She slides on her knees to the center of the pond, scrambling to stand.
My stomach drops.
“Go on, little ballerina,” Wyatt taunts. He flicks his cigarette butt by his shoe, blowing ribbons of smoke out his nostrils. “Show big brother your pretty twirls.”
One of his friends mimics a ballerina, tiptoeing in a dainty circle in the snow, and everyone erupts with laughter.
June can’t keep her balance on the ice, her feet sliding everywhere. “You jerk!” she shouts, cheeks reddening with outrage. “Why did you do that?”
I barrel down the final hill that separates me from the group. “June, don’t move! I’m coming.”
“Brant to the rescue,” Wyatt sneers. He spits near my boots when I slide to an erratic stop. “Just having some fun.”
Ignoring him, I look around for an object to hold out to her. A large stick. Something.
I don’t trust the ice—it’s not stable. It hasn’t been consistently cold enough yet.
June’s legs splay when she tries to steady herself, her arms flailing, and then she plummets backward, her bottom slamming down hard on the icy surface.
My blood freezes.
Everyone laughs.
June looks like she wants to cry.
“June, hold still—” I start to tell her, but as a tear slips down her cheek, she tries to pull herself up anyway.
And that’s when I hear it.
Crack.
We all hear it.
It’s a mere fissure at first, but it’s enough to cause everyone to go deadly silent. June’s eyes flare. She stares at me from a few feet away, completely still, and I feel like time stops in that moment. It’s the pause button on a movie reel. An eerie intermission. The wind howls with a timbre of terror, and the snowflakes sting my skin, and everything feels heavy. Or weightless. Or both.
The ice continues to split—ugly veins branching out, contaminating piece after piece.
“Brant…”
June murmurs my name from the middle of the pond, and it’s the frailest whimper, a fearful plea.
It’s the last thing she says before the ice collapses underneath her.
“June!”
Her scream tears through the park, then she plunges into the ice water.
I don’t think.
I just move.
Wyatt rambles beside me, “I didn’t know, dude, I just thought—”
I don’t listen.
I. Just. Move.
I race onto the ice, hoping it holds me long enough to reach her, but it crumbles quickly, disintegrating into slush.
“Brant!” Her head pops up long enough to choke out my name again, her arms thrashing wildly, and then she disappears underwater.
I follow. I crash through the arctic surface, nearly suffocating on the cold. My bones chatter. My skin goes numb. My blood swims with ice.
But I keep moving.
It’s not deep, but June is already sinking from shock. Sailing toward her in one fell swoop, I wrap my arms around her middle and drag her up to the surface. Her skin looks discolored. Blueish… almost…
Purple.
I feel sick.
Dizziness tries to yank me back under, but I plod forward to the snowy edge, where Wyatt and his friends have already vanished, replaced by worried onlookers. Cold water and ice chunks lap at my torso, and I feel like I can’t breathe. My lungs have shriveled into glaciers.
I’m shivering. Close to blacking out. Everything is fading.
June, June, June.
It’s a miracle I reach land, somehow finding the strength to pull her up onto the snow. A man runs over and assists, bringing her out safely before helping me from the water.
I collapse.
I collapse beside her, shaking uncontrollably, rolling until I’m nearly blanketing her small frame. “Junebug…” I croak out. Tapping her cheek, my fingers twine through her icicled hair. “Junebug, please. Please, please.”
She twitches.
She splutters.
She starts coughing up water, her body convulsing, then instinctively reaches for me as she gasps for breath. June tremors with cold, her deathlike fingers curling around my wet coat.
It’s all I need.
It’s all I need to know before I buckle on top of her with frigid exhaustion and slip away.
