“Yes,” Eamon said. “And considering your brother has been part of a kidnapping, you might want to read the book he’s identifying with.”
“Attempted kidnapping. I stopped it. And considering you want to be my friend, you should stop asking me to do something that’s against my nature.”
Eamon squinted, more mischievous in the dark. “Who said I want to be your friend?”
“He does,” Ryder supplied. “He called you ‘rascally cute.’”
I laughed and snorted and sort of choked all at once.
“Now that was cute,” Eamon said. We pulled up outside the circle of trailers. I tried to ignore Eamon’s mild flirting—because I honestly didn’t know what to do about it—and marched Ryder up the steps.
“Iris, a minute?” Eamon called.
“Pajamas. Teeth. Bed,” I said to my brother and shut the trailer door behind him. I turned to face Eamon O’Brien. He wasn’t Julian Young, but there was something about his smile and sandy, wavy fistfight of a hairstyle.
“He’s a great kid. Don’t be too hard on him.”
“Thanks for the parenting advice.” Despite my snark, my voice fell. Eamon motioned for me to follow, and we sat at one of the empty picnic tables. I turned my face up to the very black sky with its silver stars and fiction-quality silver moon. “Ryder’s therapist thinks this fantasy stuff is good for him, but he’s stopped caring about anything real. It’s all costumes and weapons. At school, he signs his name in that phony elf language. Kids tease him. A lot.”
“Iris, how did you stop him?” Eamon cleared his throat. “Moss, that is.”
My words stuck in my throat. “I don’t think anyone has asked me that since the police.”
“Do you mind?”
I shook my head and started talking. Remembering. It was easier this time because I was choosing it. “Ryder was screaming, and I ran. Moss had shut him in the back of a van, but he’d left the driver’s side window down. I climbed through and clawed his eyes while he was trying to drive away.”
Eamon flinched.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Gruesome. Apparently I blinded his right eye. Our lawyer said that was unfortunate. It gave Moss sympathy points with the judge.” I looked down at my hands, nails so short they often hurt, but it did make it easier to play guitar. “You know what he said when they put him on the stand? ‘I wanted the Thorne family to read my manifesto. I’m Elementia’s biggest fan.’”
“No wonder you hate us.” Eamon’s shoulder bumped mine.
“It’s not hate. It’s more complicated than that. Ryder has been disappearing in this fantasy world since my dad read the books to him. It was supposed to show him that Moss isn’t a monster, just a disturbed fan.”
Eamon faced me, shadows playing with his cheekbones, making him starker. Lovelier. From this angle, I could see what Cate Collins must see: a diamond in the rough. “So what about you?”
“I’m fine,” I said.
He scoffed.
“Hey, I excel at fine. I’m going to have to major in it in college at this rate.”
“Iris, do you always act like this happened to Ryder and not to both of you?”
“I was older. I could handle it better.”
“Could you?”
I laughed, which felt odd but not unwelcome in my still-reeling body. “You’re a piece of work, Eamon O’Brien.” I stood to leave.
“Stay.” Eamon’s voice cracked, which was bizarrely endearing. “For the rest of the shoot. It’s only for, what? Nine more days? You’ll regret it if you don’t.”
“You’ll regret it if you don’t quit telling me how I feel.”
Apparently Eamon and I had leveled up to flirty threats. His brand-new smile turned my heart into a kick drum, playing the rhythm to a song I’d never heard before.
THE SAN ANDREAS FAULT AND OTHER POTENTIALLY DISASTROUS FAMILY FORMATIONS
Ryder sat at the back of the trailer, staring into space. “Are we really leaving tomorrow?”
“I don’t know,” I said. Somehow I wanted to stay. Mostly because of Julian and Shoshanna, but also Eamon. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I wanted to see him in the morning. And maybe even the next day…
“Why did you have to say all that stuff about me ruining the shoot? I got lost.”
“You don’t understand how movies work, Ry. They’re all about budgets and money and time, time, time. You stole their time today. I knew I shouldn’t have let you go without me.”
My brother eyed me coldly, reminding me that it didn’t matter if he looked like our mom. He had our dad in him as well. “Then why’d you let me go?”
“I don’t know.” Except I did. I’d wanted to hang out with people my age instead of feeling like the single parent of a third grader.
Ryder pounded a tight fist against his leg. “I mean, why would you let me do that? Do you want to go home that bad? Is it killing you so much to be here with me?”
“No…” I fought for words through the knots in my heartstrings. “This isn’t my thing, Ry. You know that.”
He blew out a frustrated sigh and then whacked himself in the face. Hard.
“Stop!” I held his wrists and put my face close to his. “Don’t do that.”
“I can’t listen!” Ryder’s cheek was bright red with his little handprint.
“That’s crap. You can do it.”
“I can’t! You and Dad tell me all the time I’m so much trouble. All the time! My therapist says it’s a self-filling prophecy. And prophecy means I can’t stop it!”
I tried not to smile at his jumbled phrasing. “Hey, no prophecies, pal. This is real life. All this fantasy stuff is a hobby.” I scooted closer on the bed, pushing his foam weapons out of the way. “This is a movie. It’s not real.” I pointed at the poster on the wall. “See how fake that is? Think about Shoshanna and Julian. They’re not these characters. They’re actors.”
“You said I ruined their shot. Will Cate Collins hate me?” Tears filled
