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Today's Reading

PROLOGUE
GRACEN

Meander, Oregon— 2006

Douggy pouts in Gracen's doorway while he stuffs his backpack with everything he'll need for overnight. He ignores her. He's about to poison both their lives, but he doesn't know that yet. He only knows it's his best friend's birthday, and there will be a trip to the wave pool and a sleepover party after school. Waterslides, pizza, and Super Mario Bros. dance through Gracen's mind, and he skips the stupid- looking pajamas Mom told him to bring. Bathing suit— check. Sweatpants— check. Clean underwear and toothbrushes are for babies.

Douggy, nicknamed for the Doug firs that grow around their house because she wants to be a tree when she grows up, is only in kindergarten. With her arms crossed over her chest, she sighs loudly in his doorway. The two of them usually play "Highest Tower" before school, a made-up game that combines their old wooden blocks and a knock-knock joke book Mom bought at a yard sale. Yesterday his tower was almost waist-high before Douggy giggled so hard she knocked it over. Today, he needs to pack, though, and he's explained that twice.

After more sighs and recrossing of the arms, Douggy says in her best trying- to- sound- grown- up voice, "Fine. We can play tomorrow morning."

He shoots her a frustrated look as he struggles with his backpack zipper. "No, dummy. It's a sleepover. I'll be at Blake's, and you have ballet on Saturdays."

Douggy's chin juts, and her lip trembles. He opens his mouth to take it back, but it's too late. She runs to tell Mom, who's in the bathroom getting ready for work. Gracen follows to defend himself. Mom emerges with tight lips, her hair half-curled, and shakes her head.

"You guys are going to miss the bus. Gracen, hold Douggy's hand. Get out of here, quick!"

"Can't Dad drive us? I'm not ready!" Douggy's whining now.

Gracen checks the clock. He's dressed and the backpack zipper is almost entirely closed, but Douggy doesn't have socks on yet. Snot shines between her nose and mouth.

Mom swipes a tissue at Douggy's face. "He went to work early today because he's helping with the Mushroom Festival this afternoon, and I don't have time to drive you. Now, go!" She shoves Douggy's bare feet into rainbow sneakers and kisses the top of her head.

"You're going to have fun today, you'll see. Got your lucky rock?"

Douggy nods, but her face screws up. "My feet feel weird without socks," she complains but shrugs her fuzzy panda backpack onto her shoulders.

"It's no big deal. I do it all the time," Gracen tells her. Mom blows him a kiss before returning to the bathroom, and Gracen leads the way outside. The sunny day has a crisp bite to the air, and his heart lifts. At school all his friends will compare waterslide stories and make plans for tonight. It's going to be awesome. His steps quicken.

"Mom said you have to hold my hand," Douggy calls, trotting after him.

"You're not a baby." Why can't she act her age for once? He's got big-kid things to do. And she better not count on sitting with him on the bus. He's sitting with Blake today.

A low chain link fence encloses their yard, and Gracen waits at the gate for Douggy. The grass is brown from a dry summer, dotted with fallen leaves. Douggy's nose is running again. She wipes a slug trail across her face with the back of her hand and glares at him.

"Why are you so mean today?"

He teeters on the brink of apologizing and making her laugh with a stupid joke. Someday, he'll distill the trajectory of his life down to this moment, the choice that ruins everything— but it doesn't feel like a choice, just an inconsequential prickle of spite. He's usually a good big brother, but it's work. Today is for fun.

"Not my fault you're a loser." He starts down the street, hands around his backpack straps. Their house, at the end of a gravel road, is two blocks from the bus stop. No sidewalk, but people drive slow because of all the ruts and potholes. It's safe except for what Gracen calls the "danger zone."

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Today's Reading

PROLOGUE
GRACEN

Meander, Oregon— 2006

Douggy pouts in Gracen's doorway while he stuffs his backpack with everything he'll need for overnight. He ignores her. He's about to poison both their lives, but he doesn't know that yet. He only knows it's his best friend's birthday, and there will be a trip to the wave pool and a sleepover party after school. Waterslides, pizza, and Super Mario Bros. dance through Gracen's mind, and he skips the stupid- looking pajamas Mom told him to bring. Bathing suit— check. Sweatpants— check. Clean underwear and toothbrushes are for babies.

Douggy, nicknamed for the Doug firs that grow around their house because she wants to be a tree when she grows up, is only in kindergarten. With her arms crossed over her chest, she sighs loudly in his doorway. The two of them usually play "Highest Tower" before school, a made-up game that combines their old wooden blocks and a knock-knock joke book Mom bought at a yard sale. Yesterday his tower was almost waist-high before Douggy giggled so hard she knocked it over. Today, he needs to pack, though, and he's explained that twice.

After more sighs and recrossing of the arms, Douggy says in her best trying- to- sound- grown- up voice, "Fine. We can play tomorrow morning."

He shoots her a frustrated look as he struggles with his backpack zipper. "No, dummy. It's a sleepover. I'll be at Blake's, and you have ballet on Saturdays."

Douggy's chin juts, and her lip trembles. He opens his mouth to take it back, but it's too late. She runs to tell Mom, who's in the bathroom getting ready for work. Gracen follows to defend himself. Mom emerges with tight lips, her hair half-curled, and shakes her head.

"You guys are going to miss the bus. Gracen, hold Douggy's hand. Get out of here, quick!"

"Can't Dad drive us? I'm not ready!" Douggy's whining now.

Gracen checks the clock. He's dressed and the backpack zipper is almost entirely closed, but Douggy doesn't have socks on yet. Snot shines between her nose and mouth.

Mom swipes a tissue at Douggy's face. "He went to work early today because he's helping with the Mushroom Festival this afternoon, and I don't have time to drive you. Now, go!" She shoves Douggy's bare feet into rainbow sneakers and kisses the top of her head.

"You're going to have fun today, you'll see. Got your lucky rock?"

Douggy nods, but her face screws up. "My feet feel weird without socks," she complains but shrugs her fuzzy panda backpack onto her shoulders.

"It's no big deal. I do it all the time," Gracen tells her. Mom blows him a kiss before returning to the bathroom, and Gracen leads the way outside. The sunny day has a crisp bite to the air, and his heart lifts. At school all his friends will compare waterslide stories and make plans for tonight. It's going to be awesome. His steps quicken.

"Mom said you have to hold my hand," Douggy calls, trotting after him.

"You're not a baby." Why can't she act her age for once? He's got big-kid things to do. And she better not count on sitting with him on the bus. He's sitting with Blake today.

A low chain link fence encloses their yard, and Gracen waits at the gate for Douggy. The grass is brown from a dry summer, dotted with fallen leaves. Douggy's nose is running again. She wipes a slug trail across her face with the back of her hand and glares at him.

"Why are you so mean today?"

He teeters on the brink of apologizing and making her laugh with a stupid joke. Someday, he'll distill the trajectory of his life down to this moment, the choice that ruins everything— but it doesn't feel like a choice, just an inconsequential prickle of spite. He's usually a good big brother, but it's work. Today is for fun.

"Not my fault you're a loser." He starts down the street, hands around his backpack straps. Their house, at the end of a gravel road, is two blocks from the bus stop. No sidewalk, but people drive slow because of all the ruts and potholes. It's safe except for what Gracen calls the "danger zone."

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