He hadn’t seen his brother in two days. There was always a note, neat and short and clinically cold, to be found the fridge with all the vital information as to his whereabouts. Chris was nothing if not thorough. Tobias would leave notes in response, letting him know if there was food in the fridge, or how to reach him if there was a problem.
Sometimes Tobias liked to imagine that they could go on like this forever. He would never see his brother again. They would act out their entire lives on sticky notes left on underused appliances. Then one day the notes from his brother would stop, and Tobias would be alone, free to leave this town, this place, this house.
Tobias hated the house. It was always his first thought upon entering, and his last as he locked the door behind him. It was big, too big for the two brothers who occupied it, and old. It was one of the oldest houses in town, as the shiny plaque on the front deck proudly informed anyone who bothered to look.
It had belonged to Tobias’ great-great-grandparents, and succeeding generations had done little in the way of renovation. Everything in the kitchen was older than Tobias. The one TV was small and disinclined to work, unless you kicked it at the right angle. The lights were cantankerous, especially at night. The décor aged any person who entered the house by a good forty years. Anyone inside his place of residence was immediately classified as a geriatric, or dead.
And it was all his, Tobias thought grimly as he took the rickety steps to his room. He was careful to jump over the eighth step. The other day, he’d nearly ended up in the basement. The proud, fallen empire of the Baer clan in all its rotting glory.
Tobias was a Baer, no matter what his birth certificate said on the matter. The eldest Baer, called home by fate or destiny or damnation to watch their legacy fade to dust. It wasn’t exactly a happy thought.
He passed Chris’ room. It was unoccupied, as it always was when Tobias was home. The bed was unmade, and CDs and magazines carpeted the floor. Tobias shook his head. Chris had covered every inch of wall-space with posters and piled his crap all over the place, but it still looked like the bedroom of an eighty-year old. An eighty-year old having a serious identity crisis.
Things would be different when school started, Tobias told himself for the hundredth time. He would keep regular hours, and make sure Chris did the same. They would have dinner together. They would talk. Chris would get his homework done, and have a curfew. None of this had happened in either of their lives, but people could change, couldn’t they?
Not for the first or last time, Tobias reminded himself to find out when school resumed in Piper Ridge. The thought was already lost by the time he reached his bedroom.
By all rights, Tobias belonged in the master bedroom. It was his house after all, signed in ink if not blood, the land of his mother. It was one of the oldest houses in Piper Ridge – a real historical landmark, according to the breathy lady from the Township Committee who kept calling about planting tulips. His stay in the house, while indefinite, looked to be lengthy. Yet Tobias had set up camp in the same room he’d slept in whenever his mother had forced them to visit their grandparents.
It was a small room, smaller than the one Chris had chosen for himself. It was barely large enough for a twin bed and a dresser. Unlike his younger brother, Tobias had opted against decorating. The room was as personal and welcoming as a cheap motel.
Tobias lowered the blinds against the stark morning sun and undressed. He set his alarm, and lay on the bed in his underwear. He was exhausted, and his mind was racing.
What could Chris be doing at the park? Did he like nature? Did he have friends, or was he there by himself? Had he met anyone in this town? A pang went through Tobias, imagining his little brother coming home to this dead house that held the bones of their ancestors – at least metaphorically – and eating a frozen food while kicking the TV.
OK, so Tobias hadn’t been the best guardian a kid could ask for. He could accept that. He would just have to do better. Loath as he was to admit it, they were stuck in Piper Ridge for the foreseeable future. Their mother had wanted Chris to graduate from the local high school and it would be in bad taste for him to ignore her last wishes, warped and obnoxious as they might be. That was no excuse for him to let his brother run wild, alone and forgotten in a strange town.
Tobias rolled over, pulling the sheets over his head so that only a tuft of hair peeked out from his cocoon. He’d get someone to watch Chris tonight. The neighbors were so solicitous; certainly someone would be willing to keep any eye on him. Or was sixteen too old for a babysitter? Probably. Tobias couldn’t remember having a sitter after the age of twelve, but then he’d been nothing like Chris was.
His brain veered towards the strange encounter he’d had with that intense young lady at the bar. Now there was a character if he’d ever seen one. Had his mother really babysat for that strange, mad woman with the man’s name?
He’d get one of the neighbors to check up on Chris during the night. You couldn’t be too careful, not with violent gangs roaming the streets. He had a responsibility and he’d fulfill it if it killed them both.
Tobias fell asleep wondering why a gang would travel all the way from South Emerson to tiny Piper Ridge just to cause trouble.
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