You think you’re funny? You think this is funny?

No, no, it’s not funny, Dad.

You taped that thing back together to be funny?

He can’t tell him the truth. He can’t. He can’t say the book slid under his bedroom door, taped back together. Because then it’s Mom out here in the shed. Better him than Mom.

Say you’re sorry. Say you’re sorry or you’re gonna regret the day you were born.

Don’t say it. Don’t say it. He’s got an electrical cord in his hand, and if Rafe says it—

I already do.

—

RAFE? THAT’S YOUR NAME?

Flat on his stomach in a bed softer than he’s ever imagined…eyes slowly blinking open…the first question the only one that mattered—

Where’s Jeremy?

A girl knelt on the floor by his bed. Seventeen? Eighteen? Pretty girl. Not beautiful. More like a Roman goddess than a beauty queen. An interesting face. He wanted to paint her.

In the other room waiting for you to wake up. You were really weak and running a fever. But you’re doing much better now.

She touched his forehead and he thought of his mother. Was he dreaming all this? Soft bandages are wrapped around his chest and back. Nothing hurts anymore.

Are you hungry? I tried to give Jeremy some pie, but he’s on a hunger strike until he sees you.

Pie sounds good.

I’ll get Jeremy. We’ll all have wine and pie by the fire.

She started to leave, and he didn’t want her to go. He had so many questions, and it seemed she had all the answers.

Where am I?

I’ll explain later after you get some food in you. My name’s Skya. I’m the queen here.

You sound like you’re from West Virginia.

I am.

There aren’t any queens in West Virginia.

Oh, kid, you are not in West Virginia anymore.

Red Crow Forest. The day they were lost. But they weren’t lost yet. Soon.

Rafe? What’s wrong? Come on, tell me.

He can’t say it, so he shows him. Not the cuts on his back. He could never show him that. He shows him the sketch instead, a dozen pieces held together by tape.

Shit, Jeremy says, and his hands shake as he holds the paper. Your dad?

Rafe nods.

Does he think we’re—

Rafe closes his eyes, nods.

I’ll tell him he’s wrong, Jeremy says. Or I’ll…I’ll say it was all my idea.

Don’t. A sob rises in his throat, and he swallows it. Don’t say anything to anyone.

If his father would do this to him, what would he do to Jeremy? His father is a bomb and only Rafe can defuse him before he blows again and takes everyone with him.

Did he do that to your face?

Rafe doesn’t answer, which is an answer.

You can’t go home, Jeremy says.

I don’t want to go home. He is the paper in Jeremy’s hands. He is torn into pieces and barely held together by invisible tape.

Let’s just, um…we’ll stay out here and miss the bus, all right? Jeremy says. I’ll call Mum. She’ll pick us up. We’ll tell your Mom you’re sick and too sick to go home. Stomach flu, something. We’ll figure it out. Okay? Rafe?

He’s hot and everything hurts, but he pretends he’s fine. He just needs to get away, that’s all. Mom and Dad only fight about him, so if he’s gone, she’ll be safe.

I’m okay. Let’s just go somewhere. Anywhere.

Where?

Far away as we can.

—

Are you sure you want to do this, my prince? You can stay. You can stay forever.

I can’t let Jeremy go alone.

The magic won’t let you both remember. Not as long as the door is open. It’s too dangerous for the kingdom.

I know.

And you won’t be able to help Jeremy.

I know that too.