Page 24 of Finding Noah

Soldier followed and ruffled my hair as he said, “See you in a little bit, Mom. We're right next door if you need anything.”

She laughed from the kitchen and replied, “Have fun, boys.”

Then he twisted the lock and pulled the door shut behind us.

A little bit ago, Soldier had gotten upset with Mom for not keeping the door locked at all times. I wasn't sure why it bothered him so much, but I had a feeling it might have something to do with Dad.

We walked over to his house next door, and while Soldier got out his toolbox, I played with his kitten, Eleven, who was getting bigger and bigger with every passing week. I had always wanted a dog or a cat or something, and Mom had always told me we weren't in any position to get one—whatever that meant. But now, I was glad we never had because I wasn't sure I'd love Eleven as much as I did if I'd already had a pet to give my attention to.

Sometimes, Eleven already felt like mine.

Soldier opened the TV box, then the box for the mounting bracket, and read the instructions. The whole time, I rolled around on the floor, wrestling with Eleven and wincing every time his small, dagger-like claws pierced my skin.

“He's gonna tear you to pieces,” Soldier muttered with a chuckle, still reading.

“It's okay,” I said, just as the little cat wrapped his legs around my arm.

“You say that now …”

“He's not gonna do anything,” I replied, laying my palm over Eleven's little face, giving him a playful shake. “Right, little guy? You're not gonna hurt me.”

“He might be a little guy, but, man, he fucks me up,” Soldier said. “You see what he did to my foot the other night? That asshole attacked me in my sleep and tore the fuck out of me.”

“That's ‘cause he was probably mad.”

“Mad about what?” He laughed. “That cat's got it made, man. Food, a roof over his head, a warm bed to sleep in … dude's got it good.”

“Yeah, but he's probably mad you leave all the time.”

“Hmm,” Soldier grunted with a nod. “Maybe you're right.”

“You guys should just come live with us,” I said with a shrug. “Or … something.”

Soldier sniffed with another laugh, but this time, he wasn't smiling. Like maybe I had said something wrong. “You guys are right next door, bud. It's not like you're far away.”

I swallowed. “Yeah, I know, but …” I shrugged again, not knowing what else to say. Not knowing how else I could tell him that I wanted them—him and his kitten—to live with us.

Maybe I'll ask Mom to talk to him about it.

“All right,” he said, dropping the instructions. “Let’s get to work.”

I helped, passing tools over as we talked about video games and friends, and in all, it took us about an hour to get the bracket and TV mounted to the wall. Soldier had done most of the lifting, but I thought I had done a pretty good job of handing him the things he needed and holding stuff when he asked me to. And every time, he told me what a good job I was doing, how much of a help I was, how he didn't know what he'd do if I wasn't around, and I wasn't sure anything in my life had ever felt so good.

Then Soldier gave me a high five, and we admired our handiwork as we talked about the possibility of him getting a Switch of his own. That way, if he was at home, he could still play games with me … at least until he could live with us anyway.

And that was when we heard the crack, like splintering wood.

Then Mom screamed.

My first instinct was to run, and Soldier ordered for me to stop and stay where I was.

I didn't listen.

I bolted out Soldier's front door and down his creaky, old steps to our porch. The door was busted, and it hung from the hinges. My eyes swept the scene in front of me as I stepped inside, seeing first our broken TV, a knocked-over chair, and a busted lamp, and then there was Mom.

And Dad.

He looked different now, somehow. Less like my father and more like a stranger, a villain.