Prologue: Rosie

PROLOGUE – ROSIE

(AGE EIGHT)

The surface is warm under my palm as I press the back door closed.

It clicks. And I wait. But there's no shouting from the other side.

I exhale.

Then I turn and run.

My stained sneakers are quiet on the grass. The overgrown lawn silencing my escape.

I'm sure mowing will become a chore of mine, but I'm not big enough yet.

Maybe next year.

But that's a next-year problem. And I have enough problems already, so there's no point in wasting time thinking about a future one.

I slow as I reach the chain-link fence.

The little can of grease I stole from the gas station keeps the gate from creaking as I carefully push it open.

My shirt already has one tear, so I'm careful not to catch it on the broken piece of wire as I shimmy through.

Once the gate swings closed, I let my cheeks puff out on my exhale, the final obstacle done.

It's a little later than I usually meet Nathan, but he'll wait.

He always does.

A stick crunches under my foot, and I hurry through a few more steps until the forest surrounds me.

I breathe in the air.

It's dirt and grass and that freshness you can only get outside.

Once I'm about twenty feet in, I turn right.

My house is the second to last one on my end of the street, two stories of… bad.

Nathan's house is all the way on the other end of the street. It's on a big corner lot, and it's really nice.

I've never been inside, but I've studied it from the back, wishing my bus route went past it so I could look at the front unnoticed. But someday I'll see the inside.

When our friendship isn't a secret anymore.

I smile at the thought.

I bet it smells like flowers inside.

I bet his mom is nice. She probably puts snacks out.

Lost in my daydream, I don't realize I've reached the meeting spot until I see Nathan's bright white shirt.

He's sitting on the thick log—where we've scraped the bark off to make the sitting part smoother—with his head lowered.

I bite down on my smile when I see the bag of marshmallows beside him.

It's become a tradition, him bringing the fluffy snack.

He's shown up with them every couple of weeks, ever since he found out they were my favorite.

"Hey." I keep my voice quiet, like I always do, as I step into the little clearing we made around the log.

"Hey." Nathan digs the toe of his shoe into the dirt, still keeping his gaze down.

He's gotten taller in the last year.

When I boost myself up onto the log, my sneakers dangle several inches above the ground.

I start to reach for the open bag between us, but I pause, noticing the flattened marshmallow in Nathan's hand.

"You okay?" I ask. Nathan never wastes food.

He shrugs.

And my stomach starts to twist.

Nathan has been my best friend for two years. And I've never felt this weird sort of feeling from him before.

"What's wrong?" I start to shift toward him, but then he stands.

"I gotta tell you something."

That twisting inside me starts to hurt.

He still won't look at me, his face aimed toward the ground.

I swallow, my throat suddenly dry, and I watch the way the tree-filtered light hits his hair.

I stare at the shades of brown, feeling the sudden need to memorize them.

As the silence stretches, I slide off the log.

I want to stand if he's standing.

"What do you need to tell me?" I whisper.

Nathan's shoulders lift as he takes a deep breath.

But he still doesn't speak.

My nerves are on fire.

Whatever this is, it isn't going to be good.

"Please tell me," I say so quietly that I'm not sure he hears me.

Then he lifts his head, and I finally get to see his face.

He looks… sad. Like the kind of sad you feel at a funeral.

Oh god, I hope his mom didn't die too.

I take a step toward him.

But then he speaks. "We're moving."

My feet stop.

I shake my head. I didn't hear him right. "What?"

"I wanted to tell you." Nathan's brows push together like he's in pain. "I just didn't know how."

Panic starts to well up inside me.

Move?

Nathan's going to move?

"Off our street?" I ask.

Nathan keeps his lips pressed together as he nods.

We won't be able to meet in the woods anymore.

My heart beats faster. "Out… out of town?"

Nathan nods again.

My knees tremble.

Out of town means I won't even see him on the bus.

I clench my hands into fists. "Are you still going to be in Wisconsin?"

Maybe if he's still in the state, I could see him at football games or something. He'll be in high school soon. And I know he'll play varsity.

But then Nathan makes it worse. "We're going to Ohio."

The backs of my legs bump into the log.

I hadn't even realized I was backing away from him.

Ohio.

I don't know how far away Ohio is from Wisconsin. But I know it's far. Far enough that if he goes… I'll never see him again.

A weight presses down on my chest.

"When?" I choke out.

Maybe… maybe if I have enough time, I can convince his mom to bring me with them.

If I can just meet her, let her get to know me, she might like me.

And then his mom will want me to come.

Even if it's just for a little bit.

"Tomorrow."

Nathan's reply pierces straight into my heart.

Tomorrow.

That panic inside me flares into an inferno.

There's no time to make his mom like me.

There's no time.

Tears rush down my cheeks.

"P-please don't leave me." I clutch my hands in front of my chest, begging him to stay.

Nathan's expression crumples. "I'm sorry. I don't want to go."

My lungs struggle to fill.

This is… this is the worst thing that could happen to me.

"You can't go," I choke out. "My dad?—"

My words cut off, my voice failing me.

Like it does every time.

Nathan steps toward me. "What about your dad?"

I shake my head, pinching my eyes shut.

I shouldn't have said that.

The time I actually open my mouth… the one time I dare to say something… is when Nathan is leaving.

Nathan is leaving me.

My only friend.

That funeral sadness drapes across me. And it makes me feel hot all over.

"Nathan!" His mom's voice filters through the woods, and I blink in that direction.

It's time for him to go have dinner with his family.

The night before they leave.

I press my hands against my shirt, over my heart. Pushing to keep it in.

I was late getting here, and now he has to leave.

Forever.

"Rosie." Nathan steps so he's right in front of me.

So close.

And so close to becoming out of reach.

He puts his hand on my shoulder. "Does… does your dad hurt you?"

Why now?

Inside, I scream at myself.

Why does this have to happen now?

Why now, when he's so close to disappearing from my life, why does Nathan have to ask this question now?

More tears stream from my eyes.

Why has no one else ever asked me this before now?

I shake my head.

There's no point in telling him.

His mom shouts again.

Nathan looks over his shoulder, then back at me. "Rosie, does he hurt you?"

I shake my head, slower this time, and answer with the best truth I have. "Not like that."

I can hear the defeat in my tone.

"What does that mean?" He tightens his grip on my shoulder.

But then his mom yells again.

He has to go.

Nathan has to go.

We both know it.

Nathan clenches his teeth.

I'm still crying.

I can't stop crying.

But they're silent tears now.

The kind you can't control.

The kind you can barely feel.

The ones that just come and come and don't stop.

"You have to go." My words come out scratchy.

"I don't want to." Nathan's tone is so sincere that it makes everything worse.

I try to shrug. Because he might not want to. But he will.

Everyone leaves.

Nathan steps back, his hand slipping free from my shoulder.

The place where his palm was feels cold.

"I'm sorry, Rosie."

His mom shouts his name, sharper this time.

Nathan's mouth twists, his hazel eyes full of words, but he doesn't say any of them.

He turns. And walks away.

And I stand there. Watching him leave me.

He looks back over his shoulder, his eyes meeting mine one last time, then he disappears into the trees.

When he's out of sight, I lean against the log and lower myself until my butt hits the ground.

The damp earth soaks into my jeans. But I don't care. Because my favorite person in the whole world is moving. And I know what that means.

I'll never see Nathan Waller again.