Some Quiet Place

me completely beneath its murky waters. I struggle against it, but then darkness cackles and whooshes in with its inescapable embrace. This time there are no dreams, just a face. Pale hair, crinkled azure eyes, conceited grin. Fear …
    Quiet.
    A gentle touch.
    I must have fallen asleep. When I wake, I blink rapidly. The blurred world comes into focus, as does the face of my champion. And of all the people who could have rescued me this time, it’s the boy who’s not my brother. He’s squatting in front of me, his eyes clouded with concern. His mouth moves as he speaks, and I crane my neck to see past him.
    I struggle to my feet, Charles supporting me and all the while still talking in my ear. Tim wouldn’t actually leave just because he was told to, would he? I whisper with a pang of hope, “Fear?” No answer. No tang of terror. Just then the clock chimes in the hall. I’m late for school . A simple thought, reflex.
    “Elizabeth, answer me, damn it!” My not-brother’s face looms close, demanding and concerned.
    “Charles?” I squint, as if he’s an apparition that’ll disappear any second. When I realize that he’s real, he’s not going to fade, I ask with slight disbelief, “What are you doing here?” I see that Courage is gazing at me, his hand on Charles’s shoulder.
    “Only for you would I risk coming back here,” Courage tells me solemnly.
    My not-brother is still holding my arm, and when he sees that I’m finally lucid, he lets out a breath of relief and lets go.
    “Are you all right?” he says rather than answering. “When I first came in, it seemed like you were in pretty bad shape. I had to take care of Tim, so I left you for just a second, and when I came back, you were passed out. But now it doesn’t look that bad.”
    He and Courage watch as I study my arms, legs. Nothing. No bruises, no cuts. No pain. My throat is fine. I must have healed as I slept. I look at Charles again, at his achingly familiar mop of hair, ruddy skin, fidgeting hands. Of all the people I would have expected to save me, he was the unlikeliest possibility. “What are you doing here?” I repeat. I already know, of course, but for some reason I need to hear the words out loud.
    Charles just shrugs. “I had a bad feeling. I came back to make sure you’re doing okay, and I heard … should I take you to the hospital?”
    “I’m fine. I think I’ll even go to school today.” I rest my hand on his arm, right next to Courage’s dark-skinned fingers. The Emotion’s heat enfolds me, and my quailing insides calm a little. “Charles,” I say. Just the one word, just his name. He has to hear the question in it. We’re standing in the middle of my room, surrounded by the mural, by the pieces of the past, the truth that I’m not his sister. We both know it—but still, Charles came back. I didn’t expect this. Very few times in my life have I been wrong about a person.
    Experiencing Courage’s influence for the first time, Charles makes a choice. He reaches for me and jerks me to him for a quick, awkward hug. I hug him back. When he pulls away, my brother clears his throat. He does it again. Finally he blurts, “I’m going to be here from now on, all right?” He means to sound gruff, but his tone is laced with relief and a faint tinge of pride. Right before Courage disappears, I catch sight of a tiny smile curving the Emotion’s normally serious lips.
    I smile, too. “I believe you.”
    Charles spoke the truth; Tim is nowhere around. His truck is gone. Seeing this, I hurry to get dressed, grab my bag, and get into my own truck. There’s something oddly comforting in the routine, and I drive to school like it’s any other day. As if Sarah is at home in the kitchen, Tim is out in the fields, and Charles is sleeping in before his shift at Fowler’s Grocery. Everything is different now, of course.
    The parking lot is full by the time I pull in, and my normal spot is taken. I don’t want to park at the outer edges where anyone, or a certain someone, can attack me, so I park in one of the open spots beside Sophia’s red convertible toward the front. Bought with her father’s money, of course. I’ve heard Sophia’s friends say that he buys her off to make up for never visiting. Sophia always demands that the spaces on either side of the car to be empty so no one scratches the flawless paint job. How thrilled she’ll be to see my tank by her precious car.
    I’m through the front doors, just a few