Page 7 of Every Thought Taken

I shrug. “You were cozy.” I shift my attention back to the tray of biscuits and my stomach grumbles. “And I haven’t been up long.”

She tightens the blanket around her shoulders. “Did you see it snowed?”

I shake my head.

“We should go out after breakfast,” she suggests.

“Only after you check in with your parents,” Mrs. Everett says before I answer.

With my back to her, I scrunch my face. “We will,” I say without looking her way.

I have never once disrespected parents—mine or my friends’. It bugs me that the first thing Mrs. Everett says to any of us this morning is sharp, as if we disrespected her. Yes, I am a child. From time to time, I may talk back, but my parents taught me to respect adults and my peers. To be thoughtful. To consider other people’s feelings when I speak. Words can hurt. Sometimes more than anything else.

But shouldn’t adults do this with children too?

We may be young, but we aren’t stupid. We feel and think and hurt too. And harsh words from someone who should love you unconditionally hurt the worst.

“Let’s eat, call our parents, then go see the snow,” I say as I stand.

We pile our plates with pancakes, eggs, bacon, and biscuits. I fill a glass with juice and sit on the far side of the table. Lessa takes the spot across from me, Mags next to her. Anderson’s lips flatten in a line as he takes the empty seat on my side. After Mr. Everett stacks his plate high, he sits at the head of the table.

And it isn’t until after I drown my pancakes and bacon in syrup that I notice Mrs. Everett hasn’t grabbed a plate. Instead, she rushes around the kitchen, wiping counters and huffing as she washes dishes.

Lessa bolts out the front door and runs for the now-buried sidewalk. Mags hurries behind her with a little less enthusiasm but a wide smile on her face.

“Come on,” Lessa groans out. She plants her gloved hands on her hips, taps her foot, and gives me and Anderson a pointed stare.

“Just go. We’ll meet you there,” I suggest.

Her brows shoot up and her hands drop. Then she shrugs, grabs Mags’s hand, and speed walks down the street. “We’ll probably have a snowman built by the time you make it,” she hollers over her shoulder.

“Whatever,” I yell back.

The Everetts’ house is just over a mile from Lake Lavender Elementary. Every winter during break, the neighborhood kids go to the playground and field to enjoy the snow and get out of the house. For years, the principal told parents to not let their children visit school grounds when school was out. Neither the parents nor kids listened, and the principal had no way to stop anyone unless someone patrolled the school at all hours. Eventually, they gave up. At the next town meeting and each school event, they told parents the school isn’t liable for accidents or injuries.

No one has been hurt over the years. And visiting gives us all something to look forward to as snow blankets the ground.

Anderson and I walk down the street, Lessa and Mags nowhere in sight. He hasn’t said a word all morning; his eyes down and posture slumped. Before his parents entered the kitchen, his lips started to curve and he almost gave me his sad smile. But then it fell away. I didn’t like it. At all.

“Hey,” I say, bumping his arm with mine.

His steps stutter as he looks at me. “Hey,” he mutters, then shifts his eyes back to his feet.

I hate prying into people’s business. Mom says if people want you to know about their life, they will share the details with you. So, I tend to keep things to myself and don’t ask others to share.

With Anderson, though… he hasn’t been himself. His sadness has me worried.

“You okay?”

He stops a step back. I spin around and return to his side, watching as his expression twists. As he mulls over the simple yet difficult question. He lifts his head and stares past me down the sidewalk.

Our breaths fog the cold, spruce-scented air. I curl my fingers in my mittens, wishing I had on two pairs instead of one. A door across the street slams as a woman chases a little boy. He looks like a starfish in his stiff layers as he laughs uncontrollably.

I turn my attention back to Anderson, his blue eyes rimmed with tears making my chest hurt. I want to hug him. Tell him everything is okay.

But I have no idea what is wrong.

“If I tell you something,” he chokes out. “Will you promise not to tell anyone?”