Saving Rain

by Kelsey Kingsley

“So,” I said, taking out four slices of bread, “what do you mean, your dad does bad things?” “Like …” I glanced over my shoulder to watch as he pulled in a deep breath while his mouth twisted angrily. “Like when he hurts my mom. Crap like that.” The brace that had been on Ray’s arm came to mind immediately, and I clenched my hand tighter around the butter knife as I slathered mayo onto the bread. “He hurts your mom?” “Yeah, sometimes.” “Does he hurt you?” Noah didn’t reply right away, and I took another glance over my shoulder to see him frozen with his hand resting on Eleven’s back. I didn’t want to push him or dig for information I wasn’t privy to. The last thing I wanted was to make him uncomfortable. But I also wanted him to know he could tell me if he didn’t feel safe, if he was scared. I wanted him to know that, as long as I was around, I’d do anything to protect them—him and his mom. “Hey, it’s okay. You—” “He hurts me sometimes, yeah,” he quietly confessed, every word coated in shame. “But he hurts Mom more.” Back when I had been a kid, sometimes, I’d hear my classmates making comments about my family. How old my grandparents were. How weird my mom was. Shit like that had mostly been innocent, looking back on it, but the implications hadn’t been innocent at all. My skin would prickle and itch as every nerve ending in my body would scream at me to fight, to defend and protect. That was how I felt right now, listening to Noah talk about his dad. “Hurts her how?” I as...