The Redemption of Callie & Kayden

foot of snow and my dad’s truck has chains on the tires.
    I pull my knees up and station the notebook on them before pressing the tip of the pen to the paper.
    I dream that I get to have cake before Caleb takes me into my room. When I blow out the candles and make a wish, I wish to have the happiest and best birthday in the world and the wish comes true. Caleb never shows up that day to hang out with my brother, and I get to play hide-and-go seek outside with the other kids. I rip open paper and smile at my presents.
    Lately in the dream, instead of making a wish for myself, I make a wish for Kayden. I wish that he never met me and that he never learned my secret. I wish that he never had any reason to beat up Caleb and that he never ended up on the floor, bleeding to death.
    I wish for happiness in a world full of sorrow.
    There’s always so much pain and I wish for all of it to be gone.
    Of course, wishes are just wishes, just hope for a speck of light in a dark field.
    When I analyze my wish for Kayden, I get terrified at what it means. If I’m willing to take brokenness and shattering of my childhood in exchange for the removal of his, then how deep are my feelings for him? And am I ready to handle them?
    I pause to think about what I wrote and I spot my mother walking out the side door of the house as she tromps through the snow toward the garage. I let go of the pen and it falls to the floor. I glance over at Seth sleeping in the bed and then I panic, hop up, grab my jacket and phone, and run out the door. She’s reaching the top of the stairs when I shut the door.
    “Oh good, you’re awake.” She hugs her arms around herself and bounces up and down as she shivers.
    I slip my arms through the sleeves of my jacket and flip my hair over the collar. “Yeah, I was just getting ready to head inside.”
    My mom glances out at the mountains and the sky is tinted pink from the sunrise and reflects in her eyes. “You’re up early.” Her brown hair blows in the breeze as she looks at me. Even though it’s been only about a month since I’ve seen her, she’s aged a lot, but that might be because she’s in her pajamas and her hair and makeup aren’t done. “I don’t remember you being a fan of getting up early.”
    I shrug as I zip up the jacket and then pull the hood over my head and hug my arms around myself and shiver. “I slept in the truck during the drive over here,” I lie. “So I wasn’t very tired.”
    She eyes me over with skepticism. “Who gave you a ride here?”
    I’m wary to answer. “Um, Luke.”
    “Luke who?”
    “Luke… Price.”
    Her shoulders stiffen and she wraps her robe tighter around herself. “Kayden’s friend?”
    I nod. “Yeah.”
    She thrums her fingers restlessly against her hips as she clenches her jaw and stares at the door to the garage, trying to see through the frosted window. “Callie, I don’t want you hanging around Kayden.”
    The wind decides to kick up and snowflakes sting my skin as they swirl around us in a flurry. The wind howls against my eardrums and the reflection of the daylight discomforts my eyes.
    “Why?” I chatter, rocking my body to attempt to keep warm.
    “Because I don’t want you having any association with Kayden.” She looks at me and I see loathing in her eyes. Or maybe it’s fear. “He’s obviously got a temper and even your father said he was trouble when he was on the team.”
    “I doubt dad said that,” I argue. “He always liked Kayden. And besides, you talk to Kayden’s mother.”
    “Not by choice.” There’s judgment in my mother’s eyes like she’s blaming Maci Owens for Kayden’s mistake. If that’s the case, would she blame herself if I told her what happened to me?
    I hide my hands in my sleeves and tip my chin down into the collar of my jacket. I’m wearing a pair of pajama bottoms and the fabric is thin and the cold air easily trickles through. “Can we go inside and talk about this? It’s cold.”
    She glances at the door of the room above the garage again and then redirects her attention to me. “Is your friend in there? The one who…” She lowers her voice and her eyelashes flutter against the snowflakes gusting around us. “The one who likes guys?”
    I sigh, turn sideways, and squeeze between her and the railing without uttering an answer. Thankfully, she follows me and Seth is off the hook. At least for now.
    When I walk into the kitchen, that night smashes into my chest, the night