The Overnight Guest(15)

“Yeah,” Lynne murmured.

“We’re going to go upstairs,” Josie said, taking her glass to the sink.

“I know you’ll probably end up talking all night but don’t stay up too late,” Lynne reminded them. “We want to be on the road by six tomorrow.”

“Okay. ’Night, Mom,” Josie said, but Lynne stopped her by tugging gently on her ponytail. “Not so fast,” she said. “Don’t tell me you’re too big to give me a hug and kiss good-night too, are you?”

Josie peeked over at Becky, who was waiting in the doorway, intently examining her fingernails. Looking back, Josie wished that she would have given her mother a long embrace. That she would have taken the time to remember the tickle of her mother’s curtain of hair tumbling over her as she pulled Josie close. But she didn’t. Josie gave her a quick hug and slipped away before her mother could kiss her forehead like she usually did each night.

“Good night, Dad,” she hollered as they hurried past the living room and tromped up the stairs.

“G’night,” he called groggily. Later, Josie would say she wished she would have taken the time to go to him, leaned into him as he lay back in his shabby recliner, felt his evening whiskers rasp against her face and said good-night.

The girls unfurled their sleeping bags and lay atop them. The heat pressed down on them like a thick quilt.

From below, there was canned laughter from the television and soft footfalls in the kitchen, then the rev of a truck and the crackle of tires on gravel. They talked about the fair, about the upcoming school year, about boys. Becky asked if Ethan had a girlfriend. Josie said he did, though this wasn’t true. There had been trouble with a girl and no one since, but Becky didn’t need to know that.

The conversation turned to music and movies and the box fan blew recycled air across their bodies. Words slowed and eyes grew heavy.

A slam of a door made Josie startle and Becky gave a frightened gasp.

A jumble of voices rose and fell.

“Where have you been?” William snapped. There was a muttered response and tromping on the stairs. “You don’t get to just come and go as you please,” William went on. “Especially carrying a shotgun around. Hand it over now.”

“You made me leave the truck,” Ethan shot back. “Like I’m going to leave it in there. Besides, we’re stuck out in the middle of nowhere out here,” Ethan yelled.

“I asked you where you were,” William said tightly. There was silence then, and Josie imagined that her father and Ethan were staring each other down.

Ethan finally spoke. “I was at the pond, okay? Where else would I even go?”

“Nowhere for a very long time,” William shot back.

“Like I go anywhere now,” Ethan snapped. They were outside Josie’s bedroom door now.

“Shhh,” came Lynne’s voice. “You’ll wake the girls.”

“Kara Turner’s father called again,” William said, lowering his voice, but it was impossible not to hear him.

Kara Turner was a girl that Ethan dated for a while. She was a pretty, quiet fifteen-year-old, but the romance didn’t last long. Kara’s father didn’t like Ethan. Didn’t like his attitude, didn’t like the things he heard about the sixteen-year-old who kept calling, kept showing up at his door. But Ethan persisted. Making an appearance in the rare moments William allowed Ethan to run an errand into town. The girl’s father called the house, telling them he wanted Ethan to stay away.

“You need to leave Kara alone, Ethan,” Lynne said, her voice filled with weariness.

“It’s none of your business,” Ethan yelled. “Why can’t you just leave me alone.”

“We can’t leave you alone. We can’t,” William said in exasperation. “This is serious. Stay away from her. Now the Turners are getting hang-up calls.”

“That’s not me,” Ethan insisted.

“Someone is doing it, and the Turners think it’s you,” William shot back. “They’re threatening to call the police.”

“That’s bullshit,” Ethan hissed. “And you know it.”

“What I know is you have had a serious lack of judgment lately,” Lynne said. “Kara, driving on the baseball field...”

“That was Cutter,” Ethan interrupted. “I wasn’t even driving.”

“And until you can show me you’ve grown up,” William continued, “there are going to be some changes around here. Give me the gun.”

“What? You think I’m going to shoot someone?” Ethan scoffed. “It’s my gun. Grandpa gave it to me,” Ethan countered.

“That’s not even funny,” Lynne said. “Don’t joke about things like that.”

“When you can show me that you can handle it responsibly, I’ll give it back to you. Until then, it’s mine.”

“No,” Ethan said defiantly.

“Give it to me,” William said, and there was the rustle of a struggle.

“Get off,” Ethan snarled, and the picture above Josie’s bed shook with the impact of bodies striking the wall. “Don’t touch me,” Ethan said, breathing heavily. “It’s my gun.” There was the slam of a door. The quiet click of another. The hushed voices of William and Lynne arguing.