Cold Summer (sample chapters)

3. Harper

Uncle Jasper leaves sometime after midnight.

I'm lying in bed—my sheets tangled around my legs and my eyes heavy—when the phone rings downstairs. I stare at the moonlit ceiling and hear him walk down to answer it, saying a few muffled words before hanging up.

His truck pulls away moments later.

I have no idea where he has to go in the middle of the night on such short notice, and my foggy brain doesn't care. After he leaves, the house is quiet and still, feeling so empty with only me to occupy it. The moonlight is bright coming through my window, followed by a breeze that tries to drag me back to sleep. It's like I'm nine again, waking up in the night and wondering what tomorrow will bring.

But I'm not nine anymore, and I'm not going home.

Whatever anyone says, growing up sucks.

The next morning at the kitchen table, Uncle Jasper doesn't say a word. He eats his toast and drinks his coffee across from me, looking tired but not acting like it. He says nothing about leaving in the middle of the night, and I don't ask.

My Rice Krispies make more conversation than we do.

He scribbles another word into the crossword puzzle he's bent over, silently mouthing the letters as he does. The clock ticks from down the hall. The refrigerator kicks on.

"So . . ." I start. He erases one of the words, swiping the paper with the side of his hand. "Do you see the Jacksons much? How's Libby doing?"

"I see them every now and then," he says and takes another sip of coffee from a mug that has a T-Rex on it trying to do push-ups. "Libby is actually living with her mom this summer, but she'll be back before you start school."

"Oh," is all I can say. I have my video games, but like I told Uncle Jasper, I can't stay in the house all day. I'd go stir crazy.

"I'm sorry," he says, finally looking up from his paper. "I know you were hoping to see her, but she agreed to it before she found out you were coming. Otherwise, she never would've gone."

"Yeah, that's all right. I understand," I mumble. "What about Kale?" I try to say it like I couldn't care less, but really just asking about him makes me nervous. I've been more anxious about seeing him than anyone. The boy version of Kale was always smiling, his eyes as bright as the stars. The boy who was always gone. When we were younger, his dad claimed it was a phase because all kids try to run away from home, one that would pass with time. He would get angry when Kale would go, and his mom would worry, but they never paid too much attention to it, probably hoping he would eventually stop.

I wonder if he did stop, and then grew into a Kale I probably no longer know.

"I see Kale quite a bit," Uncle Jasper finally says. He traces another word on the paper. "He comes over to help me on the cars when he's around."

I nod and chew my inner cheek. It can't be more obvious they were the only friends I have here—I could go see Bryce, but we were never close and that would just be awkward. Besides seeing pictures on Libby's social media accounts, I haven't seen either of them—or even spoken to them—in years. I should really text Libby, assuming her number is the same.

Before I can say anything else, Uncle Jasper sighs and gets up from the table.

"I've got to get going," he tells me. "I should be back in an hour or two. And remember, if you get hungry, don't be afraid to help yourself to anything you want." With a glance over his shoulder at the fridge he says, "I know there's not much right now, but we can go grocery shopping later. Sound good, kid?"