There was over an hour before the bonfire. Not wanting to go back to Uncle Anton's apartment or my house, I drove to the hospital to catch the tail end of visiting hours.

The nurse at the front desk had me sign in and informed me that my little sister was asleep. Instead of waking her, I made my way to Mom's room.

The door sign read Sarah Anne Garrison. Mary had doodled some flowers on the sign the last time she'd visited before all the awfulness. My mother sat up in bed arguing with Jeopardy on her little TV.

I tapped my fingers on the doorframe. "Hi, Mom."

"Jack," her face lit up. "Come in, my boy."

The smell of cleaning chemicals and something strong like bleach stung my nose as I walked into the room. Someone had brought her flowers and a newspaper that lay in her lap.

"I wasn't sure you were going to come to visit again," she said. "I'm glad you did."

"Mom..." the word choked in my throat.

She was so thin. Her blonde hair, now streaked with gray, had started to grow back a month ago and almost reached her ears. She'd tied a bright blue headband around her head to cover one of the larger scars from surgery.

"If I was going to live longer, I swear there'd be divorce papers," she said. "Anton told me everything. I'm so so sorry."

I didn't know what to say, so I reached out and wrapped my strong hand around her frail fingers. She squeezed it back. She might have been gaunt and exhausted, but she was still here.

"Mom..." I tried to find the words. "I tried to stop him. I didn't want them to take the girls away. Mommy... I was so frightened."

"I know," she said softly. "I know. Nobody blames you, Jack. You did a good thing. You saved Mary's life. I know this isn't what you wanted. You're in high school. You should be young and carefree."

She started coughing. I reached for the pitcher of water and handed her a glass. She gave me a grateful smile and drank.

"I love you," she said. "More than anything in the world, Jack. You and your sisters are bright lights. Help them. Be there for them. I'm not asking you to give up your future, just to be there as a friend. Anton can help you. I hoped things would be different, but I know you are a strong boy, even if you don't feel like it."

Blinking back tears, I took a deep breath. Mom had always thought it was okay for me to cry. She would wipe the tears and say I was brave.

"I love you, Mom," I said. "More than anything. I love you."

That's when the first tear fell. Mom just smiled and patted my hand. She loved me. I knew that. She was also proud of me.

"We've known I was dying a good long while," she said. "It's all going to be all right. I do wish I could see your production, though. Anton said it's going to be amazing. He texted me that you were a phenomenal actor, Jack. If you wanted to, you could forgo football and sports and go to school for acting. Do what makes you happy, Jack."

I smiled. "Mom, I don't know what I want to do. For now, I just want to finish high school."

"Don't let anything stop you from being the best you can be," Mom said. "I know your world must be overwhelming with social media and pressures from all your teachers and coaches. Be strong and remember, I'll always love you no matter what, Jack."

"I love you too, Mom," I said. "And the play is going to be fantastic tomorrow. I'll see if I can't get a copy for you."

"That would be lovely," Mom said. "Visiting hours are almost over, and I want you to pop in on Mary. I heard they're discharging her in two days."

"I'm excited," I said.

"Anton is house hunting, I hear," Mom said. "Trying to find a place to raise the girls suitably. I know that our house is a bit complicated right now."

Complicated was the word. The police were treating it as an active crime scene. Even if they did clear it out, Dad's lawyers were trying to keep Uncle Anton from possessing the house. My uncle had hired a lawyer, and Mom was in the process of editing her will.

"Even if I tried to divorce him, I doubt they'd grant the house to a dying woman," Mom said. "Sorry, I can't help, Jack."

"Don't be sorry," I said. "I can handle Dad. Or at least the lawyer can."

"How is Anton affording a lawyer and the purchase of a house?" Mom asked.

"Mr. Chance is taking Uncle Anton's case pro bono," I said. "I believe he said something about how he would do his best to keep our family together and away from Dad."

Samantha's father had even said he could easily defeat Dad's lawyers. His wife had baked us a casserole. Uncle Anton and I had been eating a lot of sympathy casserole lately from all sorts of people. An anonymous donor even wanted to give Mary a full ride to the school of her choice in the future.

"Mr. Chance is a nice man," Mom said. "I'm sure you'll do your best to thank him. You go to school with his daughter, right?"

I nodded. As hard as it was, I was grateful to Samantha. She might have been annoying, but she'd asked her father on her own if he'd support my uncle and me.

"We're grateful," I said. "I love you, Mom. I'll send Mary your love."

Mary was in the pediatric ward. A social worker stood outside the door. The sweet-looking woman smiled at me and looked at a clipboard.

"Ma'am, I'm looking for my sister," I said. "Mary Garrison."

The woman looked at her clipboard. "Yes, you must be the brother. I'm Mrs. Spencer. I'm keeping an eye on her for now. You're staying with your uncle, correct?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said. "My mother wanted me to talk to my sister."

"Go on in," Mrs. Spencer stepped aside, and I walked into my sister's room.

Mary's eyes were closed, but she didn't look like she was sleeping. There was a bandage around her stomach, and she was lying back in the bed.

"Mary?" I asked.

Her eyes popped open. "People leave you alone if they think you are asleep."

"Hey, Mary," I said. "How are you doing?"

"Fine," she winced. "Still hurts a little. They say I might need a wheelchair when they discharge me."

"That's fun," I said. "Something to look forward to."

She shrugged. "It's kind of boring. The police came by again, and the social worker is always there. I've been pretending to sleep so I don't have to hear all the issues."

"Dad can't hurt you here," I said. "Nothing bad is going to happen to you, Mary. I promise."

"I know," Mary said. "Mom said that too. I know everything is changing. I also know you and Uncle Anton will work it all out."

"I just want you to be happy," I said. "And not to worry."

Mary set a hand over mine. "They let me draw. The nurses like my little cartoons. Uncle Anton comes, and we play checkers every morning. I'll go back to school soon."

I smiled. Mary seemed okay. Maybe she was taking extra acting lessons from Uncle Anton, but perhaps she was doing better than I assumed.

The door behind me opened. Mrs. Spencer and a nurse walked in. Mary stiffened, and I squeezed her hand back.

"Visiting hours are over, young man," the nurse said. "You'll have to come back and visit Mary later."

I smiled at my sister and left the hospital. I sunk into my Jeep in the parking lot and tried to decide what to do next.

My phone lit up, and Carson's name filled the screen. I didn't know what he needed, but he usually didn't call me. I answered a little apprehensively.

"Hey, dude," I said. "What's up?"

"I'm at the bonfire for set up," Carson said. "Can you help if you aren't busy?"

"Beats going home before the bonfire," I said. "Drum kit giving you trouble again?"

"Yeah, and Rissa is mad at me," Carson said. "Eileen is a total mess. She's having those preshow jitters again, and Foster is trying to coax her out of the bathroom. You sure you have some spare time?"

It was better than going home and far from the first time I'd helped Carson set up for a show. "Sure, Carson, I'll be there."

I drove straight out to the bonfire site and found Carson fumbling to pull drum cases out of the back of Foster's pickup truck. After parking, I got out of my car to help him.

"Thanks so much," Carson said. "Rissa is steaming, and the others are having trouble."

In addition to being Carson's girlfriend, Rissa sang lead and played electric guitar. She was usually sweet, but she tended to have a bit of a temper when she didn't get her way.

"Do you know what you did?" I asked.

Carson laughed. "She's mad 'cause I promised to take her out, and we're going to the contest tomorrow. I told her she should come to see the play instead. She got all huffy."

"Smooth," I said as I pulled the snare drum out of the truck.

Carson just snorted, so I was quiet as we hauled the last of the cases to the stage. Carson began working to put the kit together while I unpacked the toms and the bass.

"Rissa is talented, but she's singularly focused on our band," Carson said as he took the bass drum from me. "She doesn't think I could like act. I just wish she'd know there was more to me than music. You guys in the play are my friends, too."

"She is in love with you, Carson," I said. "Don't blame her if she wants your attention."

Carson's ears went pink. "Remember when we thought about starting a band in elementary school? You wanted to learn electric, but your dad said no."

I winced. "Yeah."

That was a long time ago. Carson taught me a few guitar riffs, and the two of us thought we could start a band because we could play the intro to "Hotel California" from memory.

Carson went white. "I'm sorry, man. I didn't mean to bring up your dad."

"It's fine," I said, taking the cymbals out of their case. "I never have to worry he'll say no again now."

A familiar blue convertible pulled into the parking lot. Rissa stepped out, throwing her choppy honey-colored hair with pink highlights back. She wore a black mini dress and a baby top hat perched on her headband. She squealed as she approached us and gave me a big hug.

"Is that Jack Garrison?" She asked. "Long time no see."

"Rissa," I smiled. "How are you?"

"Heard you got in a bit of trouble," Rissa smiled. "Now, where's my baby?"

"Harvey is still in the truck," Carson said, screwing on the high hat between two felt pads. "I can get him when I'm done with Barty here."

Rissa crossed her arms. "Fine," she said in a mock pout. "I'll go get Harvey." 

She stalked off towards the truck. It might have been considered rude if the two of us hadn't known Rissa forever. She was just dramatic before a show because she was trying to get in character.

Carson shook his head and picked up the snare drum. "Mind helping her? Harvey is a little expensive, and the show won't be as good if we drop him."

I shrugged and walked back to the truck where Rissa was hauling a massive keyboard case out of the back of the bed while humming one of the band's songs, "Big Lights." I caught the back end of the case and helped her carry it to the stage.

"We write all our music on Harvey," Rissa said. "And Eileen plays him at shows. Carson always helps with Foster's drum kit but should be more worried about Harvey and me."

"Marissa," I said, using her full name and not the stage name she'd selected a few years ago. "Look, it would mean a lot to Carson if you were at the festival tomorrow. He's worked hard."

Rissa pursed her electric blue lips. "When's the show?"

"If we make finals, sometime between two and nine," I said. "But we perform our scene at nine-thirty."

"I'll be there," Rissa said. "Even if he stinks and you don't make it to finals."

I smiled and helped her finish setting up Harvey. Then Rissa snuck up behind Carson as he added the last cymbal to the drum kit and gave him a big kiss.

"Hey, Jack," Rissa said. "Remember that song Carson wrote a couple of weeks ago you asked us not to play in public? We've been practicing, and it's the bomb."

I smiled. "I think you can play it tonight."

"You sure, dude?" Carson asked. "I mean, it is your story. I just wrote some lyrics."

"Just be sure to dedicate it," I said. "I'll take care of the rest."