However Long the Night

Chapter Seven

The heady smell of bacon and strains of classic rock pulled Will from a deep sleep.

"Ugh, Dad. Please no air guitar," he mumbled into his pillow.

Shaking off the mental cobwebs spun by his dreams, Will's heart skipped a beat as the memory of Skye telling her secret flashed behind his eyes. The image of her glowing 1 had seared itself into his brain. Red and hot, it made him flinch. Suddenly he was wide awake.

The connection between them had felt so strong the night before that for a few minutes Will had felt normal. Not pretending. Not different. Not alone. But Skye's 1 still made him uneasy and it probably always would. What was he supposed to do -- cross his fingers and hope for the best? Invest in a giant plastic bubble to protect her from harm?

Yeah, 'cause that's not weird at all. Shit, Will. What are you getting yourself into?

Pushing himself up off the mattress, he avoided looking at his 3 as he passed the bedroom mirror. Sometimes the best way to put the numbers out of his mind was to ignore them completely. For now, there was bacon and classic rock to contend with. Getting dressed, he spent a little more time on his hair than usual and made his way downstairs.

There was air guitar in the kitchen, all right. Only, it wasn't just Will's dad playing the pretend strings. He and Josh were having an imaginary musical duel; one-upping each other's smooth moves as Will's mom flipped pancakes and bacon bubbled in a cast iron pan on the stove. Shelby was at the table, leafing through a fashion magazine, laughing at the jokers grooving across the hardwood. After so many years together, they were a patchwork family. Will glanced around the room, but Skye wasn't downstairs yet.

"Guitar solo!" yelled Josh, as he and Will's dad took their swagger to another level. Josh was the bigger ham, as usual, sliding against the floor on his knees and back-bending as he strummed the invisible instrument on his belly, inching his way across the kitchen.

God, they were dorks. Will couldn't help but shake his head and laugh.

When the epic battle finally finished, his father raised a hand in defeat: "Okay! Enough rock for me today, kids. I have to save up my talent for the next campfire. Time for breakfast."

As they set the table, Skye appeared in the doorway, fresh-faced and pretty, her long hair scooped up into a ponytail. She met Will's eyes shyly, then looked away. Feeling his cheeks get hot, he turned to grab more plates from the cupboard.

"Did you sleep well, Skye?" Will's mom handed her some forks to pass out.

"Yeah, I did. Thanks, Mrs. B."

Will noticed she'd already adopted the nickname Josh and Shelby used for his mother. Ever since they turned thirteen she'd told them that they were old enough to call her Ellen, but the old habit stuck.

Sunshine leaked through the wide front window, and everyone sat down at the long table that Will's dad had lovingly refinished a year before. Built at a time when large families regularly gathered for meals, the space was much bigger than a modern kitchen. Shiny wood floors, hand-laid by Will's great grandfather, complemented new Shaker-style cupboards that stretched up toward the high ceiling. A marble island flecked with grey stone matched the counter that hugged the wall, holding glass jars of brown sugar, flour, dried pasta, and rice.

"So, how long will you be staying in town, Skye?" Will's mom set piping hot pancakes and crispy bacon down on the table before taking her seat. Will saw the girls share a subtle glance before Shelby jumped in to answer his mother's question.

"Actually, Mrs. B, we hope Skye and Aunt Bridget stay as long as possible. We have lots of room at our house, especially since my brother got a summer job near his school this year. Besides, you know my parents; without him to distract them, they'd focus way too much on me." She made a slow cuckoo sign with her finger, then crossed her eyes and giggled.