A Safe Place to Land

Chapter 2

I don't say anything for the first few minutes of the car ride. Instead, I sit with my head down, examining my fingernails. I notice the red nail polish is beginning to chip off—even though I just applied it two days ago. What I don't miss are the death glares Sam shoots me out of the corner of her eyes on our way home. I also notice there is no music playing—another sign Sam is pissed. She always has the local country radio station playing. She is a sucker for some Dan and Shay.

Finally, we stop at a red light and Sam looks at me expectantly. And this time, I look at her.

"Well?" Sam asks. I muster up the ability to recognize the facts. We start moving again and I start talking.

"Alabama rejected me. I have no idea how I'm going to tell Dalton," I say, trying to keep the tears in. "He's going to be crushed. We agreed that we didn't want to take on the stress of a long-distance relationship. So I'm scared at where this will leave us. But I have to tell him first, and I don't even know how to do that. My mom is going to be disappointed, too. She knows that Alabama and Missouri are schools that accept thousands of students each year." By the time I finish saying all this, a few tears have managed to spill over and my voice is shaky.

"Oh, Jez," Sam says sympathetically. "So that's why you had to get right home," Sam says as she starts piecing it all together. "But still, you should have let me come with you. That's what best friends are for. You could have cried on my shoulder instead of in your coffee," she says, trying to make me laugh—and it works. I chuckle a little bit.

"Hey now. You know I value coffee too much to let my tears fall in it. And anyway, I don't cry in public."

"How well I know both those things about you, Jez."

Just as she says that, we pull into my driveway. It's 5:20pm and, sure enough, my mom's car is nowhere to be seen, meaning she is still at the office. I shouldn't be surprised. It's nothing for her to be there until eight or even nine o'clock. God only knows what she's doing there all that time. I just hate it because that means my 12-year-old sister Kassie has been home alone since she got off the bus. I mentally curse to myself because I could have been home with her this whole time.

"Is your mom still working?" Sam asks as she collects her bags from the back seat.

"Do you really have to ask? She doesn't even think about the fact that her 12-year-old daughter might be home alone," I say as I roll my eyes.

"Kassie's 12, not two, Jez," Sam reminds me. "She can take care of herself for a little bit."

"I know, but still. Ten bucks says she hasn't even called Kassie to let her know," I say as I unlock the front door.

I walk into my house and take off my boots, leaving them in the mudroom. Sam follows suit behind me. I march up the stairs and walk into my room and after I drop my bags on the floor, I tell Sam I'll be right back. Of course, by the time I tell her this, her bags are already scattered around my floor and she's flopped face down on my bed, all sprawled out. It's as much her room as it is mine these days.

I cross the hallway to my sister's room and knock on the door.

"Kass?" I ask.

"Yeah, Jez?" I hear her high-pitched voice say in response. I walk in and look at her sitting at her desk by the window, working on homework. Whatever she's working on, she must be enjoying it for once, because she doesn't even pause to look over at me. Either that or she's doing it to impress Mom—who will never know first-hand the focus Kassie is applying. I try not to let that thought bring down our conversation.

"How was your day?" I ask her, sitting cross-legged on her pink bedspread. She puts her pencil down and looks at me.

"It was good. I got a good character reward for sitting with someone who was all alone at lunch today," she says with a smile. This is the kind of person my sister is—good, sweet, and innocent. She might be 12 and I might be 18, but sometimes, I look up to her so much.