A Missing Peace (13 page)

“Maybe, you're spending too much time together.”

“I'm sorry I burned your flag, but you leave her out of this. Don't push me.” My voice was harder than it had ever been with my mom. Partly because if my dad had heard it while he was living, he would have hit me in the mouth, but also because when he deployed it was my job to take care of her.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “You've had a rough go of it lately. Maybe, you should talk to someone? I could make you an appointment.”

Great. Mom thinks I'm crazy now.

Mirriam

I sat on the hard blue stool in the cafeteria slumping forward with my head on the table. I hadn't really slept since I realized it was Caleb's father that died for me, and last night I hadn't slept at all. My lunch tray lay untouched on the table by my head.

“Are you okay?” Morgan asked.

“Fine.”

“You've been gone for days. You should be well rested.”

I sat up. “Can't sleep.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Mirriam, your eyes are swollen like you've been crying the whole time you've been gone. Something happened.”

I sighed. I couldn't tell her. I wanted to. I wanted to tell her everything and let her take my side. It was my fault
Baba
had died and Caleb's father, too. I understood that, but Morgan would have taken my side anyhow, and it would have been nice to let her. The problem was I couldn't tell her, because if she told someone… if anyone found out… those same men could still be here. I shouldn't have told Caleb. If Abrahem had a secret like this, he would have kept it. But I owed it to Caleb, and he wouldn't tell anyone. I knew that.

I settled on a partial truth. “Sometimes, I still get upset about things that happened back home.”

“Back home means Iraq?”

I nodded.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “I—you know I'm not a shrink, though I saw one for a while, but that's another story all together. The point is, maybe you should talk to someone. I think if you still get upset about things that happened in a war zone it's called PTSD.”

“PTSD is for soldiers.”

“I don't know. I think if you lived through the same thing, it doesn't matter that you're not a soldier.”

“I'm not crazy.”

“I'm not either, and it helped me.”

My eyes flickered to the wings taped to the back of her black dress that had replaced Morgan's boa today.

She rolled her eyes. “I like to make people talk. Since they're going to trash me either way, I might as well control what they say.”

“Sorry.”

“It's okay. You wanna hit the mall after school? Maybe if you get out, you'll feel better?”

“I need to study.”

“Okay.” The word came out deflated. She knew I was lying.

Caleb

The Texas sun poured through the living room curtains. Exhausted from Oxycontin and sleep deprivation, I picked up a pillow and covered my head. At some point, I would have to go back to my room, but I wasn't looking forward to the stairs.

I slept half the day away, and when I woke up, the thoughts churning through my head made more sense. I picked up the phone to check for missed calls. None. I didn't like that, but I knew how hard it must have been for her to say what she told me.

I'd been on a quest for two years to find the truth about my dad's death. I knew there was more to the story than, “We were shooting at each other. No one really saw it.” Or, “I don't remember.” How can you not remember seeing a man die?

An Iraqi girl moved in across the street to challenge everything I believed and everything I thought I knew, and she handed me the truth on a golden platter.

My dad died for a reason. He saved Mirriam's life, and as I realized this, I knew there was somewhere else I should be, because someone else missed something. Besides, I still needed to know who fired that shot.

I forced myself off the couch and grabbed a golf club from the closet. I turned it upside down, wrapped my hand around the putter end, and rested my weight on it as I hobbled across the street.

Abrahem was on his way to his car and stopped when he saw me. He shook his head for a moment in confusion. “Do you need something?”

Oh shit. She doesn't want her family to know about us.
“I need to talk to Mirriam about our project.”

His eyes turned to black slits, and he stared me down. I wasn't stupid enough to think for a second that this guy believed me, but he didn't call me on it. “You should have called. I don't think you should be walking around. Are you okay? You look like shit.”

At least, he was honest. “Uh, I'm fine.”

“She's in the back. Go through the gate. It's closer.” I started toward the chicken wire fence and Abrahem called, “Caleb?”

“Yeah.” I didn't turn to look at the guy, because my legs didn't pivot like that anymore.

“My little sister doesn't date.”

“I—” I had to come up with something and quickly. I considered the truth. She was the only person who would tell me anything about my father's death, but I wasn't sure they knew she'd told me.

But he cut me off before I could think of anything. “It's a warning not an accusation.” His words were casual, but laced with arsenic. “I won't be gone long. I'll give you a ride home. You really shouldn't be walking around.” He was back to his usual friendly demeanor.

“Thanks,” I said and hated it, because I had no intention of leaving his little sister alone.

I found Mirriam stooped on her back porch—two patio chairs beside her, but she sat on a concrete step—in sweats hugging a coffee cup.

Sitting down and standing up were hard enough. I'd never get off the floor, so I opted for a chair, instead. “It's a hundred degrees, and you're wearing sweats?”

She shrugged. “It's hotter in the dessert.”

I nodded. “He died for you, you know?”

She looked up at me, and for the first time I noticed her eyes were red and swollen. Her face contorted like she was in pain. “I'm sorry.”

What I said next amazed me as much as it did her. I'd been torn up pondering it, but in that moment I knew. “I'm not.” I wasn't. I hoped I couldn't watch someone kill a fifteen-year-old girl, either. Then there was the way I felt about Mirriam. But I loved my dad, too. He was everything I wanted to be, even in his death. I'd loved my dad my whole life, and I'd only known Mirriam over a month, so I felt like a traitor for being glad she was still here.

That month changed my life, though.

“I can't believe you're still talking to me.”

“M, I don't blame you for what happened.”

“You don't?”

I patted the seat beside me. She moved to sit down next to me, resting the coffee cup on the table between us. I leaned over to take her hand.

“No, I don't, and you shouldn't, either.”

“They're both dead, and it's my fault.”

“They're both dead because Collins shot first and asked questions later.” I spat the words out through gritted teeth. Thinking about it made me furious, but I shook the anger off to say what I had to say. “I came here to tell you something, and that's what I want to talk about.” She raised an eyebrow, her expression confused. “You've got to let go of the hatred. I'm not saying I think what you're feeling is wrong, but it's eating you up. You're missing out on life because of it.”

“I—” It didn't bother me that her tone had already gone defensive. I'd learned enough about this girl in six weeks to know how she would react before I came here.

“An American died for you, Mirriam.
We're
not all bad.”

She was quiet for a second, then said, “Gunned down by one of his own. I know you're not all bad, but it's hard to separate who is from who isn't.”

“I'm sure it is, but I think you have to quit focusing on things that have already happened. Those things are over, and you can't change them. Focus on what's in front of you now, and you'll be okay.”

Mirriam looked me in the eye from her place across the table but didn't say anything. Abrahem appeared in the glass door behind the porch, glaring at me. For a second, I thought he was coming to join us. I let go of Mirriam's hand in a stealth move I hoped he didn't see.

Mirriam looked at my hand no longer touching hers.

“Your brother,” I whispered.

She nodded.

“I think we should change our project for government,” I said, watching the door out of the corner of my eye. It was a safe subject, and I wanted to talk about this anyway.

“Why?” I couldn't tell from her tone whether she was being cautious or annoyed.

“Because I don't think focusing on our differences is going to help you—us.”

She rolled her eyes. “Caleb, I already know you're an infidel. I love you anyhow.”

“That's not what I mean. I'm coming to understand no good came of military action in Iraq, but we can't change it. I don't think it's good for you to build an entire project around it.”

“So what do you propose?” she asked. After I explained, Mirriam said, “That sounds like a lot of work, and I don't have the time right now. Most of my classes are AP.”

“I'll do the extra work.”

Her head shot up from her coffee cup. “Are you feeling okay?”

I shrugged. “I have too much spare time on my hands these days.” I glanced back to the glass door. The talk about school must have satisfied Abrahem because he had disappeared. “Does your family know you told me?”

She shook her head. “I don't think
Ommy
would let us stay here if she knew because that would mean those same men…”

Were here. “Now that they know you're not a terrorist, I don't think you have anything to worry about. But I wouldn't threaten to behead Kailee again. M, I think you should know there is something I do blame you for.”

“What else? I haven't done anything to anyone since then. It's the reason I let people call me whatever they want and never say anything. I've done enough damage for this lifetime.

“You disappeared on me again.”

“You told me to.”

“What?”

“You said you wanted space.” “That was a lot to throw at me at one time. I just needed time.”

“I gave it to you.”

“Don't disappear on me again.”

“Promise.” The corners of her lips turned up, but she stopped short of a smile.

“There is still one thing I need from you.”

“What?”

“Not here.” I kept my voice low, in case Abrahem was around. “Come over when you can.”

The first time she was free of her mother and brother, Mirriam came over. Since I started moving around more, my body adjusted to the pain. I gritted my teeth and took the stairs to my room.

I walked in and opened my closet door, but when I turned, Mirriam still stood in the doorway. “Come in,” I said. She blushed a little. Her skin was dark enough that it hid most of the red, but hints of color peaked out around her cheeks.

She rocked back and forth on her heels. “I've never been in a boy's room before.”

“You'll survive. I promise.”

She smiled sheepishly and crossed the threshold into my room. I laid a framed poster-size photograph on my bed. It was my dad's company, taken a week before they left.

“I need you to show me who fired the kill shot.”

“Kill shot?”

Right, she's not a military girl.

“I need to know who was shooting at you the day my dad died.”

She sucked in a breath so hard it looked painful. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Her voice went soft.

I nodded. “I need to know, Mirriam.”

“But you're not going to tell anyone I told you. You won't let anyone find out we're here, right? You've got to find another way to know.”

“You're safe.”

“Caleb—”

“Trust me, M.”

She studied the picture for a minute. “I'm not sure I can do this. It's a bunch of white guys in the same cammies and helmets. They—”

“Look the same?”

“Sorry.”

“Just try.”

Mirriam stared at the photo for a moment before shaking her head in defeat. “It's no use.” Her eyes fell to the far right end of the picture. “Wait a minute! It's him. That's him.” She tapped the glass.

I leaned over to see whose face Mirriam's index finger hid. She scooted her finger to the side to let me see and knocked the wind out of me. The room spun, and it was all I could to do keep my balance. She was wrong. She had to be wrong.

She couldn't be right.

Gade.

I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “Are you sure?”

When she looked at me there was fear, anger, and anxiety all roared in those deep brown eyes. “Caleb that shot was meant for me. He looked right at me—a boy barely older than my brother—then fired. I'll never forget his face. Most nights, I see it every time I close my eyes.”

If I doubted her words—and I didn't—I would have had to believe the expression on her face, the fear in her eyes.

Mirriam

“I'm going to kill him!” Caleb twirled around on one leg and put his fist through a wall before falling to the floor.

Not knowing what else to do, I knelt down beside him and ran my fingers through his hair. From the way he'd asked, “Are you sure?” I sensed this was as much about who the shooter was as it was about his father.

“I'm sorry,” I whispered.

“I'm going to kill him,” he repeated.

Caleb was in no condition to ‘kill' anyone. I didn't know if I should point that out, so I waited a minute. He grabbed the edge of the wall, trying to pull himself up. I grabbed his arm and tried to help.