Transfer [Pt. 4] “Dustin!” Flo called, catching up to her brother in the hallway. He had apparently just left Makenzie’s room, and the first-year-to-be wanted to know if any progress had been made. Makenzie had been alone in that room for so long, so the fact that Dustin had presumably spoken to her was major news; their cousin had barely spoken to anyone this whole time, leaving only for meals and bathroom trips. “Hey, Dustin!”
“Florence, I’m really not in the mood,” he returned as he--they--walked, rubbing his temples. “I can’t deal with your incessant questions. I need a break. If you want to know more about Sonora, go into my room and grab my yearbook. You can keep it for all I care.” His tone was sad, like he’d been hurt, and Flo couldn’t help but wondering what Makenzie had said to him. She was not a mean person, and his ego was not easily bruised, but somehow, it had happened.
“No, it’s not about that,” she said, struggling to keep up with his pace. His strides were much longer than hers ordinarily, given he was a pubescent teenage boy with growth spurts running rampant while she, though on the tall side for her age group, was just an eleven-year-old girl, but it seemed as though he was putting extra effort into out-stepping her. “I wanted to ask about Makenzie.”
Dustin stopped dead, and Flo passed him, not reacting fast enough, but immediately turned back to face him. “You wanted to ask about Makenzie,” he repeated. His little sister nodded, her motion awkward, a bit too forceful, and her blunt brown bob danced around her chin. “Here’s a better idea: don’t.” He started to walk again, but Flo was in front of him now, and she mirrored any steps he took to try to go around her. “Florence, move.”
“What happened?” she demanded, though her voice was gentle and, in a strange way, almost motherly. “You know you can tell me, don’t you? We’re in this together.” Florence spoke without knowing the implication or significance her brother would find in the otherwise simple testament of solidarity.
But it was clear as it rocked through him that there were things she didn’t know, things she wanted to know. Something flashed in his eyes, and his lips pursed together. Dustin did not speak as he made his own path around around her, pushing her to the side. She bashed her arm into the corner of the wall and the floor, but she did not cry, instead too focused, turning her head to watch the way he left, angry and hurt in a way she had never seen him before.
Then she cried, not because of her elbow (although it honestly hurt quite a bit for a child’s pain tolerance) but because everybody was angry and upset and she didn’t know how to fix it. Nothing she had ever learned or read had prepared for this, which was unfortunate since she had always felt so ready. It made her question if she really knew anything, if her intellect was just a joke, and if she would really find any success at Sonora, especially now with the family name damaged. She did not expect to fit into the same circle they had always been in at home, not now, but what if there was no place for her at all?