CHAPTER 3

We walked Wes back to his hoarded home and stood in the driveway, observing the staircase leading up to the front door that was in desperate need to be shoveled.

The multiple coats of snow stretched across his lawn and froze over the fence framing his backyard, tempting me to blurt out, "Geez, Wes. One of your siblings couldn't shovel the snow? You've got hundreds of them."

Instead I pressed my lips together and suppressed the urge to speak, waving at him as he trudged his way up the thick layer of snow blanketing the stairs. Removing his frozen hands from his pockets, he placed both of them onto the doorknob and twisted it, pushing open the door. I watched him get greeted by his little sister; Grace.

She stood at the entrance of their home, a large smile split across her face. "Wesley!" she squealed. "Where's Jack?"

"I don't know," Wes chuckled. "Isn't he home?"

Grace shrugged, tucking a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "I didn't see him."

I glanced over at Bas, whose shoulders were slouched over as he stared blankly at the ground. I didn't say anything. Instead, I turned my attention away from him and looked back at Wes entering his home.

I'd been over to the Shepherd household various times and had seen the chaos of their home with my own eyes. Their home was small and timeworn; the walls decorated with old wallpaper that curled at the ends, tempting me to peel it all off. Toys were scattered everywhere amongst the scratched floors, and their home smelled of the grimy dishes that were in desperate need to be washed.

I'd met three of Wesley's siblings; Grace, Jack, and Callie. The others were just kids I'd heard of.

Jack wasn't exactly the ideal kid; he was a bit of a kleptomaniac who loved cigarettes and alcohol and rebellion. He'd stolen from neighbors and gas stations and classrooms and friend's houses. Jack was the second oldest in the Shepherd family, and Wes feared his younger siblings would follow Jack's footsteps. I couldn't blame him. According to Wes, he'd recently caught his eleven-year-old sibling, Tyler, with Jack; the two of them smoking. His sister, Mae, had also been scolded after stealing most of the money from Wesley's wallet.

Callie was the opposite of Jack, despite them being twins. She was probably the most responsible sibling, always getting the rest of the family in trouble and making sure Jack was completing simple chores around the place. She was always earning good grades and setting high standards.

As for Wes' mother, I'd only met her once. She was nice lady who had greeted me with a warm smile and went by the name of June. She looked a lot like Wes; they shared the same eyes and nose.

You could tell June was exhausted, though, whether it had been by the puffy bags under her eyes or the grey streaks at the roots of her thin red hair. Although she caked on the makeup to hide it, you could still see it. The dark reddish-purple rings amongst her arms and neck matched those of when Wes would come to school with bruises along his skin. Wesley had told me about his step-father and his fits of rage. I had never met him, but based on the children's fright and June's wounds, I knew it was all too real.

At times I wondered why Wes even stayed. He could run away if he wanted to, or report it to the police. At the very least he could even tell the support group and Ms. Hemsworth. She would do something about it, right? But despite his deep hatred and constant dread of going home, Wesley Shepherd always refused. "They're my parents," he'd say. "They're my siblings. My family. My job is to protect them, not snitch on them. I can't risk letting us fall apart."

"Your family is already falling apart," I'd argue.

Then he'd just shake his head and turn away from me, muttering, "It's not that easy, Kylie. I wish it was. But it's not . . . You wouldn't understand anyway."

And just like that, he'd end the conversation, refusing to accept any further words. Wesley may have once said that he'd hated his parents and thought they were the sickest people he knew, but deep down, I could see very clearly that he believed there was a spark of goodness in them. Wesley didn't believe in evil. He just wouldn't admit it.

--

Stopping by Bas' house before heading to mine, he nodded at me and began heading towards his home. "Wait!" I called.

He stopped in his tracks and looked over his shoulder, his gaze meeting mine. "What?"

I wasn't sure what to say. I hadn't rehearsed it or anything. So instead, I blurted out, "What the hell was wrong with you today?"

I immediately regretted it.

For a minute he just stared at me and said nothing. Then he raised a brow. ". . . What do you mean?"

"You smiled once. And it was barely even a smile! It was like, the hint of one."

"So?"

"So a day ago you were all happy and cheerful, and now? Now you're, well . . . this."

He sighed and turned away from me, heading back towards his home. "Goodbye, Kylie."

"Basil--"

"I said goodbye, Kylie."

And then he turned around and walked away, stepping into his house and slamming the door shut behind him.

--

Entering my house, I was greeted by the scent of various spices and creamy soup. I followed the smell and made my way to the kitchen, where I found Mom standing over the stove and stirring a pot with a wooden spoon.

"Mom," I said, approaching her slowly. She didn't even flinch.

"Hi," she replied calmly.

"Did I scare you?"

"No," she said bluntly. "Dinner will be ready soon."

I nodded and stood there for a little while longer, before eventually sighing and turning around, making my way to my room.

As I made my way up the staircase and walked through the empty halls, I heard muffled giggles coming from my sister's room. Confused, I stopped in my tracks and listened carefully.

Slowly, I leaned against the door and held in my breath to keep quiet. I heard her laughter, followed by the voice of a boy. A familiar boy.

I placed my hand on the cold doorknob, hesitating a little before I twisted it and slightly pushed on the door. Discreetly, I peeked through, my eyes widening at the sight of Wesley's brother.

I cleared my throat and reluctantly opened the door fully. "Skylar?"

Skylar looked up from her pile of books, her dark brown hair falling into her face. She smiled at me and tucked a stray strand behind her ear. "Hey Kylie,"

"Um . . ." I hesitated once more, before nodding at Wes' brother and asking why he was there. ". . . Jack?"

"We have a project together," she explained, pointing at one of the textbooks laying on the floor.

"The teacher put you two together?" I asked.

"Well, not exactly." She replied, shrugging.

I turned to Jack, raising a brow. "Did you tell Wesley you were here?"

He shrugged, "No."

"He's been looking for you," I said. Jack didn't seem to care. Instead, he looked back at Skylar and grinned at her.

I furrowed my brows and watched the two for a bit longer, before rolling my eyes and leaving the room without closing the door behind me. I made my way to my bedroom, grabbing my cell phone and dialling Wes' number.

"Hello?" Wes' voice echoed as he answered.

"I found Jack,"

"Serious? Where is he?"

"Here, at my place."

"Care to elaborate?"

"He's got a project with Skylar,"

He sighed. "Well, can you tell him to come back soon please?"

"Yeah, my mom's making dinner, he'll probably eat here so don't worry."

I could almost here him smiling in relief on the other end of the line. "Okay, " he said. "See you later then."

The sound of static filled my ear, signalling he had hung up.

--

After dinner, I helped Mom clean the table and wash the dishes. I dried my hands on a dish towel, dusting myself off and taking a deep breath before making my way back to Skylar's room. I opened the door, catching a glimpse at the two.

"Jack, get your stuff. Wes said he wanted you home."

He looked at me and for a split second narrowed his eyes, before sighing and pushing himself up. He grabbed his bag and swung it over his shoulder. Skylar got up too, following him out of the room.

--

Hands buried in my pockets and half of my face hidden behind the collar of my jacket, I shivered. The two walked in front of me, laughing and chatting amongst each other.

"You know Kylie, you really didn't have to walk me home." Jack said, keeping his gaze fixed on Skylar.

"It's my pleasure," I muttered, trudging up the staircase that led to Wesley's house. I knocked on the decaying door, since Wes' doorbell had been broken since the beginning of time.

When no one answered, I waited awkwardly and looked over at Jack, who just shrugged and said, "Just open the door. It's probably unlocked anyway."

And so I did.

Inside Wes' house, there was nothing but chaos. There were clothes and dishes scattered everywhere, little kids running around screaming, while Wesley was nowhere in sight. I stepped in, stopping one of the kids and asking them where Wesley was.

"He's in the kitchen," said the kid.

"Okay," I said, barely muttering 'thanks' as the child ran off. Jack led me towards the kitchen, where Wes sat on the counter listening to Callie yell at him. The kitchen was just as chaotic. It reeked of rotting food and smoke.

"Wes, there's nothing--" Callie's voice trailed off as she noticed us standing, watching them. "Jack?" she said, her voice rising. "Where have you been?"

Jack just sighed and made his way to a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, hopping onto the counter as he took a long drag of smoke.

"Come on, Skylar." I said, grabbing her hand and dragging her away.

"Wait!" Wes called.

I paused and turned around. "What?"

"You can't leave without a goodnight," he said.

I rolled my eyes. It had been an inside joke ever since I could remember, and he still wouldn't drop it. "Goodnight, Wes."

He grinned at me. "Goodnight, Kylie. See you tomorrow, yeah?"

"See you tomorrow."