What Comes After | ✔️

Chapter 14

August 10

"Mom, can I go outside?" May asked in the morning.

Both Mom and I looked at her weirdly. Other than the forced trips to the food bank, the wood gathering sessions on Mondays, Mom's weird hiking session a month or so ago, the survival book hunt in the library, and Clara's birthday, I don't think May's ever left the house.

"Where to?" Mom asked.

"Just to see if one of my friends is still here," she said. At that moment, I knew it was a lie, but the reason behind it was a mystery.

Mom didn't say anything.

"What?" May asked. "If Neal gets to visit Charles pretty much every day—"

"Hey, not every day," I said, but she ignored me.

"Then, why can't I visit my friend after, like, two months."

"Alright," Mom said. "You can go, but you need to bring either Neal or Mira along with you."

"What?" May exclaimed. "This is so sexist. Neal can do whatever he wants to do, but I need a babysitter."

"Neal is sixteen," Mom said. "When you get old enough to drive your own car, I'll give you more freedom, but you're fourteen right now, and you'll need someone older to supervise you."

"I'm almost fifteen," May blurted out, grasping at straws.

"Fifteen is not sixteen," Mom said. "So either Neal or Mira are coming with you. Your choice."

"I'll come," I said, chiming in.

"Fine," May said. "I'm going to get ready now."

She walked through the hallway, though stomped would be more appropriate. Mom sighed and put her hand on her chin. There was an awkward silence between us.

"Actually, I take that back. Weren't you outside yesterday?" Mom asked. "Maybe it's better if Mira goes."

"I don't think Mira might be up to going," I said. "Because, you know."

"Oh..." Mom said. "Okay. Just for today I'll make an exemption."

Just after she said that, May popped in. "I'm ready to leave. So let's go."

"Wait," I said and walked towards the hallway. "I need to change. Give me a minute."

"Well, hurry up then."

I went into my room and hastily put on a heavy ski jacket and thick pants. When I got to the front door, May had put on her shoes and was waiting impatient next to Mom. "Took you long enough."

"So, remember—" Mom said before she was cut off.

"Yep. Less than an hour or else I'm grounded for life. Blah-blah-blah. We get it."

May opened the door. The air was still today, the ash clinging to the rooftops unmoving.

"Stay safe," Mom said.

"Don't worry. We won't die," May replied.

We walked away from our house. May kicked up some ash and watched it float, blossoming into a cloud of gray, before settling once again.

"So you want to tell me where we're going?" I asked. "Since it's clearly not a friend's house."

"No duh," she said and pulled out a key from her pocket. "This is where we're going."

I stopped walking. "How'd you even get it?"

"Dad just left it in a drawer. I found it a couple weeks back."