Hiding From Us

2. adrian

When I met the Connollys, I knew immediately that their son Jared disliked me. 

     It might’ve been because I arrived at the airport at nine a.m., and it was a three-hour drive from Calgary; maybe he wasn’t an early riser. It might’ve been because I was older than him, or at least younger than him; I could tell that he was the oldest in their family, so maybe he didn’t like challengers. Or possibly he dreaded the fact that his parents started drooling over me as soon as I walked over. 

     ‘‘Hi!’’ said the mother. Mrs. Connolly. ‘‘Welcome to Canada. We’re so pleased to have you staying with us.’’

     I shook her hand, and then her husband’s. ‘‘Thank you.’’ It wasn’t hard to be polite.

     One by one, she introduced me to her children. The middle son, Luke Connolly, greeted me by flicking one of his trading cards at my shoulder when his parents weren’t looking; he was eleven, but his attitude raged. 

     Mrs. Connolly introduced Jared as ‘‘the oldest. He’ll be joining you in ninth grade this year.’’ Jared was tall and gangly. He had a mop of black feathers for hair. His eyes were cold like steel; they seemed to snarl at me, Welcome to Canada. I hate you. Get out of my life. 

     And then Mr. Connolly brought forward a small girl with large, sunken eyes the color of a storm. She was pale and skinny like her brothers, only she looked more like a skeleton. Her fingers clutched tightly to her father’s arm. 

     ‘‘This is Rosalie,’’ he said, his voice quiet. ‘‘She’s going to be seven in a few months. Rose, honey, this is Adrian.’’

     I crouched down and gave a tiny grin to Rosalie. She grinned back nervously. 

     Jared’s cold stare lingered on my back. 

     The parents got all of us into their Highlander and started to drive away from Calgary. At first, Jared and Luke argued about what type of music to put on—Jared, cool and calm, wanted Maroon 5; Luke, fierce and annoyed, begged for Zedd—and then Mrs. Connolly ended the fight by shutting off the stereo. It left all of us in silence. 

     An hour later, Mrs. Connolly looked back at Rosalie and said quietly, ‘‘Are you feeling okay, honey?’’ and I saw Rosalie shake her head no. So Mr. Connolly pulled over three minutes later at a rest area and helped Rosalie out of the car. Mrs. Connolly got a duffle bag out of the trunk. I couldn’t see what they were doing, but seconds later, I heard the sound of vomiting. 

     ‘’Is she okay?’’ I asked Jared—or Luke, since Jared probably wouldn’t answer. 

     Luke stared at his trading cards. ‘‘She’s sick,’’ he said, ‘’in her brain. Jared, can you shuffle these?’’

     Jared took the cards and flipped through them, stacking them and unstacking them, tossing them in a semicircle, mixing them in graceful motions. I thought it was kind of beautiful. 

     ‘‘It’s a mental disease,’’ he said quietly. ‘’A brain tumor. Nothing serious.’’

     He gave the cards back to Luke. The parents returned Rosalie to her seat. Luke asked for Zedd, and Jared didn’t argue. The car rode on to a franchise in a nearby town, where everyone got smoothies and muffins. We drove to my new home. 

    I watched Rosalie. And when she could, she watched me, too.