LOCKET Bridget Pierce 12th Grade • Oak Park River Forest High School
This summer, my cousin came back from Juvie. We received a call from my aunt late in the afternoon. The nonchalance of her cigarette stained voice wafted into the living room as Mom, Dad, and I huddled around the phone. "Jake?" Mom asked, "already?" Mom's face crumbled. She took a deep breath. "Tell him to visit us soon," she said. When I was ten, Jake showed up on our doorstep with a busted lip and an offer to mow the lawn for a week. Mom pulled him into our house, Dad cleaned the wound on his lip, and I made sure to remember to set an extra place at the table. Jake woke up at six a.m the next morning, but my dad had gotten up uncharacteristically early and had already taken care of the yard work. I remember being stirred awake by the sounds of footsteps across the creaky flooring of our house. I peeked my head out of my bedroom and peered into the living room. I watched Dad put his arm around Jake's shoulders, "you don't have to earn a place in this house." I heard a broken inhale and Jake began to shake. Silently, I closed my bedroom door on the sound of Jake’s sobs and snuck back into bed.
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