Series: Like Us Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
Vada hands it up to her. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
High school bullies, I know too well, but the T-Bags sound like a different breed from what I personally experienced. I want to help them and ensure they’re safe at school, but I also wasn’t supposed to hear anything.
First mode of action: Try to figure out how to pass them without being seen. Should I crawl? Moon walk? Pretend to wear an invisibility cloak?
I choose the latter. I stroll casually by as if I’m a collection of particles, invisible to the naked eye. Vada and Winona become suddenly more interested in hanging the wreath.
“Up higher,” Vada calls out.
Winona rubs at her splotchy face and does a good job of rotating away from me.
I’m not the only one hiding.
Down the hill I go, the glittering lake in view. Ice thickens at the banks, but it hasn’t totally frozen over this year. A good distance from the dock, a sturdy oak tips toward the water, and the swing attached to the wide branch sways from the wind. No one is sitting on the wooden board.
Charlie isn’t there.
He must’ve left. I take out my phone. What are the chances he’ll reply to a text? I shoot him a quick message:
Where are you?
I press send and realize I sound too casual, not urgent enough. Then again, this isn’t an emergency. But I could send an SOS…
My phone vibrates before I decide.
CHARLIE
The Outpost
How does he know about the Outpost?
It sounds more like a mountain town bar, but it’s only about a half-mile hike. When I was eleven, Eliot, Tom, and I discovered an old wooden platform tucked between two oak trees. The ladder was rotted, but the bent and gnarled branches and thick trunk made climbing easy.
We theorized the structure was a long-ago hunting blind, but once we stood on it, we weren’t staring at the forest where animals prowl. We had an unobstructed view of the calm lake and the landscaping mountains. Later on, we made a sign and called it the Outpost, and we’d sneak out there on warmer nights when we didn’t need a fire.
That’s where I find Charlie.
His legs hang off the platform. He’s sitting and reading a massive paperback. When I scale the tree and touch the wooden planks, he doesn’t raise his head to look in my direction.
I take a seat beside him and read the cover. The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky.
“Light reading?” I ask.
His gaze remains fixed on the book. “Shouldn’t you be with the rest of the family, gathering together to mourn our dead grandfather?” He flips a page.
“I’m not sure how much gathering there is right now,” I say quietly. “Everyone is busy getting the house ready for Christmas Eve tomorrow.” I glance at the book. “I take it you’re not going to gather.”
“If I can help it, I will avoid it,” he says and flips one more page.
“So…the Outpost.” I stare out at the sparkling water, the evening sun casting rays of light across the rippling surface. “Did you follow us here one year? Or did I tell you about it?” Maybe I forgot I told him.
He licks his finger, turns another page. “Do you really think I would follow you?”
No.
I’ve never known Charlie to follow anyone, despite the world believing he’s stepping in the same exact footprints his father left behind.
“I must’ve told you,” I murmur, my brows crinkling as I scrounge for the memory.
“You didn’t.” Charlie reads a page silently for a moment, then says, “Did it ever occur to you that I’m older than your best friends?”
He means his brothers.
“It’s occurred to me pretty frequently, actually,” I say. “You have older brother tendencies.”
Charlie side-eyes me with more interest than irritation. “I’m not like your older brother.”
“I didn’t say you were like Moffy.” I try not to lean forward too much. Without a railing, the drop down makes me woozy. “That doesn’t mean you don’t land in the older brother category on the Venn diagram.” I zip up my puffer jacket as a gust blows through the Outpost. “You seem particularly irritated by your younger siblings.”
“They are annoying.” Another page flip.
“But I think deep-down, you would try to move mountains for them, if they really needed you. You just maybe don’t feel all that needed, and sometimes, you like it that way. Because it’s easier than watching people you love fail over and over again.” I watch the light dance over the water, but I feel his gaze on me. “So…” Heat bathes my cheeks, feeling his stare, but I don’t brave a glance at Charlie. “I have thought a lot about you being older than us.” I whisper, “Maybe it’s the writer in me.”
Charlie shuts the book. “I found what you and my brothers call the Outpost when I was seven. Years later, Eliot tracked me here. I caught him, and next thing I know, there’s a sign and cigarette butts and the lingering stench of weed.” He eyes me like my decade of sin has never been a secret.