Chapter 4

Dylan stopped pretending once he realized Rachel wouldn't turn against him because of the kids.

One time, Ollie ran out of his room, hugged Rachel's leg, and asked her to look at a drawing he'd made.

Rachel had changed into a dress and was about to head out.

Dylan leaned against the doorframe, smiling.

"You still let them cling to you like that?" he teased.

Rachel smiled too.

"That's how he is, always so clingy," she said.

She gently removed Ollie's hand from her leg.

It wasn't a rough move.

But Ollie stood there, frozen in place, as if he'd been pushed.

I saw what happened from the kitchen.

I was stirring a cup of instant cocoa with a plastic spoon.

I wanted to go over.

But Dylan shot me a warning look first.

That look carried a warning, like he was saying, "Don't ruin your mom's good mood."

I stopped.

Rachel didn't notice our gestures.

She was putting on her earrings in front of the mirror and asked Dylan, "How do I look?"

Dylan walked over and wrapped his arms around her from behind.

He said, "You look so young. No one would ever guess you're a mom of two."

Rachel beamed.

I lowered my head and slid the cup of cocoa over to Ollie.

"Take it back to your room," I said.

Ollie whispered, "I want Mom to see my picture."

"Show her tomorrow."

"Will she really look at it tomorrow?"

I gently pushed him back toward his room, not answering.

That night, Rachel promised she'd be back by ten.

I had a quiz the next day, and my coach gave me a shot at a make-up practice.

Rachel looked me right in the eye and said, "Ten o'clock. I promise."

I glanced at the clock on the wall and made sure to remember her promise.

At 9:30 PM, Ollie brushed his teeth.

At 10:00 PM, I turned on the porch light.

At 10:30 PM, I called Rachel, but no one picked up.

At 11:00 PM, it suddenly started raining outside.

At 11:20 PM, the whole street lost power.

The house was plunged into darkness.

Ollie called out from his room.

I was startled too.

I stood in the living room, still clutching my vocab cards for tomorrow's test, my heart racing.

Ollie was already crying.

I fumbled around in the dark until I found the flashlight. The batteries were nearly dead, so the light was a faint circle, flickering across the wall.

I said, "Easy, it's only a power outage."

Ollie came running out, clutching his pillow.

"I want Mom," he sobbed.

"She'll be back soon," I said.

"When will she be back?"

"Soon."

"You said soon, but it's taking forever."

I didn't know what to say. I felt as upset as he did.

The rain beat steadily against the window, the sound close and constant.

Ollie cried louder and louder, calling for Mom over and over. At first, I patted his back to comfort him, but after a while, my hand stopped.

I wanted to cry out too.

I wished someone would open the door and tell me it was okay. The blackout, the rain, and even tomorrow's quiz would be okay.

But there was only me in the house.

Ollie kept sobbing, "I want Mom. I want Mom."

Suddenly, I snapped, "Stop crying! I want Mom to come back too!"

My voice crashed through the darkness of the house.

Ollie flinched, startled by my outburst.

The flashlight's weak beam fell across the floor, illuminating two pairs of bare feet.

My throat was tight with emotion.

I wanted to say sorry, but the moment I opened my mouth, the tears came first.

Ollie looked at me blankly, as if in a daze.

He came over and hugged me, whispering, "Are you scared too, Carter?"

I covered my face and nodded.

Ollie and I ended up sitting on the kitchen floor.

Ollie was exhausted from crying and leaned against my shoulder. I held him close, the flashlight resting between my knees, its light growing dimmer and dimmer.

By midnight, Ollie was burning up.

I touched his forehead and jolted awake, scared out of my mind.

I rummaged through the medicine cabinet and grabbed some children's fever meds. The label was full of stuff I couldn't understand. The only words I recognized were "6 years old" and "do not".

I had no clue how much I was supposed to give him.

I tried calling Rachel again.

Yet she still didn't answer.

I thought about calling 911.

But as I pressed 9, I stopped.

If the ambulance showed up, they'd ask where the adults were.

If there were no adults here, would they take Ollie away?

I had no idea.

In the end, I measured out half a spoonful for Ollie.

Half a spoonful seemed like the safe dosage.