Twice, Luna They Left Behind Chapter 03

Twice, Luna They Left Behind Chapter 03

Two weeks later, Dad, Mom, and Leo came back from the Maldives.

Leo had visibly put on weight. He was tanned a healthy bronze.

That mental breakdown he was supposedly having seemed fully healed, courtesy of sea breezes, lobster, and the Pack healing resort.

When they walked in, I was sitting on the living room rug, struggling to write with my left hand.

My stitches were out, but my ring finger and pinky still couldn’t bend all the way.

“Why are you writing on the floor?” Dad shoved the suitcases to the side.

“The desk is too high. I can’t brace my wrist,” I said without looking up.

Mom changed into her slippers and swept a glance over me.

“That just means you’re not adapting. The body compensates—basic biology. Train your left hand and move on.”

She walked to the coffee table, poured a glass of water, and handed it straight to Leo.

“Leo, tired? Go upstairs and take a shower.”

As he passed me, Leo kicked my loose scratch paper on purpose.

Sheets flew everywhere.

“Oops, sorry Lydia. Didn’t see those,” he chirped, then trotted upstairs. Toward my room.

I set my pen down and pushed a thick stack of application materials across the table to Dad.

“Dad, I need your signature on this.”

Dad glanced at the cover.

[National Pack Physics Scholars Camp—Guardian Consent & Liability Acknowledgment]

“Your hand’s like that, and you still want to go to a training camp?”

“My hand shakes. My brain doesn’t,” I said, flat. “The camp locks in my admission and scholarship. It’s an out-of-state residential program, and with my hand the way it is, they need a guardian’s signature for medical liability. That’s you.”

“Deadline is this Friday at 5 p.m.”

Today was Wednesday.

Dad frowned.

“It’s three months. Residential. You can barely use your right hand—how are you supposed to take care of yourself?”

“I can manage on my own.”

“This is absurd. You’re not thinking clearly.”

Mom walked over, picked up the consent form, and tossed it back onto the table.

“You’ll just make things harder for the teacher in charge.”

“I earned my spot. Top score in the prelims. If I don’t go, the school loses their shot at the rankings—you know that.”

“Don’t throw rankings at me to hide the fact that you’re being stubborn,” Mom said, looking down at me. “Look at yourself. Even if you went, you wouldn’t place. It’d be a waste of time. Stay home. I’ll find you a physical therapist.”

“I’m going,” I said, and locked my eyes on the form. “All I need is a signature. I’m not asking for anything else.”

Dad loosened his tie with a flash of irritation.

“Fine, fine. Friday, right? I’ll sign it tomorrow evening when I get home from work. Leave it on the table.”

He waved his hand and turned toward his study.

“I’ve got data models to run. Don’t bother me unless it’s urgent.”

Mom turned and went to the kitchen.

I laid the consent form flat on the most visible spot on the coffee table and set a black pen on top of it.

Thursday.

I waited in the living room all day.

Eight p.m. No one at the door.

Ten p.m. Still nothing.

I called Dad. No answer.

I called Mom. She hung up.

The clock on the wall ticked on and on.

Eleven thirty.

The lock clicked.

Mom and Dad walked in, loaded down with massive shopping bags. Leo trailed behind them, clutching a limited-edition mecha model, his whole face lit up.

“Dad, this rare collectible is seriously gonna flex on everyone at the next con!”

“As long as you’re happy. And next time something’s eating at you, say something early. Don’t let it build up.”

Dad smiled and clapped him on the shoulder.

I sat there on the dark sofa, watching their picture-perfect family moment.

“Where were you guys?” I said.

All three of them jolted.

Mom flipped on the living room lights and glared at me.

“What are you doing sitting in the pitch-dark in the middle of the night like some ghost?”

“Sign.”

I pointed at the form on the coffee table.

Dad blinked, like he’d only just remembered it existed.

“Right. Leo was in a slump again. I took him downtown to that comic thing. You know how time goes—we just got sidetracked.”

He walked over and picked up the pen.

“I’ll sign it right now.”

The tip of the pen was just about to touch the paper when Leo let out a sharp yelp.

“Ah!”

His mecha model hit the floor, one wing snapping clean off.

He immediately clutched his chest, his face draining pale as he sank to the ground.

“Fire… the fire’s so huge…”

He started hyperventilating, his whole body trembling violently.