"Kayla, you're home early," my mom said as she got out of her chair at the kitchen counter.
I took a shaky breath. "Yeah."
I immediately saw the worry come into my mom's eyes. "What happened?"
I steeled my senses. I had cried enough. "Wyatt didn't turn out to be as great as I thought he was."
Her mouth went into a tight line. "What did he do to you? Do I need to call his parents?"
I made an attempt to smile. "No, mom. Someone else actually did a pretty good job of putting him in his place."
"Who?"
"Frog."
"Oh, you mean Frederick? Really?"
"Yeah. It was pretty impressive."
My mom folded her arms. "I'm not surprised. He was always so protective of you when you were kids."
I frowned. This was something that had been bothering me. "Mom, I don't remember being friends with him."
She raised her eyebrows. "Oh, yes. You two were always playing together. We used to live right down the street from the Vonnegans."
Again, I tried to call up any memory of Frog back then, but there was nothing there. It was almost as if my life began when I was seven.
"Of course, that was right before your father was arrested," my mom added. "Traumatic events can do a number on your brain." She started to tear up. "I'm so sorry, Kayla."
"Mom," I interjected, "it's not your fault."
"I know. But if I just had better judgment, things could have been so different."
I inclined my head. "Looks like I need to work on my judgement as well."
My mom came over and hugged me tight. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not right now. I think I'm just going to go to bed."
"Okay. Let me know when you're ready."
She kissed my forehead and I headed to my room. I was still a little shaken. Maybe one day I'd talk to my mom or a counselor about what had happened, but right now I didn't want to think about it. What I did want to think about was Frog. There was something that was so interesting about him. For a moment there in that classroom, he had seemed like someone else entirely.
I opened my closet and pulled out a box of old stuff that I had generally avoided because I didn't want to be reminded of my dad. I smiled as I rifled through volleyball trophies and programs from viola recitals. I found a small photo album and started to flip through it. The first picture I saw was one of me and my parents at Christmas. I felt sick as I looked at my Father, the carefree smile on his face only making me more angry. If only we had known the kind of man he really was. I turned to another picture and gasped. It was a photo of my family and Frog's family together in someone's backyard. I could really only recognize Frog by his eyes and his mouth, but that was where the similarities ended. Puberty had clearly not been very nice to him, because as a young kid, he had really been quite nice-looking. I studied his father. He was a very attractive man, and looking at his kind expression, I would never expect him to be the type to leave his family.
I put the photo album back and rummaged through a few more trinkets at the bottom of the box. Among a bunch of painted rocks was a charm bracelet. I pulled it out and suddenly, I remembered. The memory so was clear that I could even recall the smell of the lilacs at the park. Frog and I had been playing tag, and then he had gotten all nervous. He pulled out a little pouch and gave me the charm bracelet. He said he had saved up for all the pieces and had spent two days putting it together. I ran my fingers over all the charms. There was a cupcake, a flower, a music note, a snowflake, and a crown. I remembered being so excited about the gift, and then I had heard the sirens. The police cars had pulled up to my house and the officers had taken my father away. I remembered running after the police car until my mom came and grabbed me out of the street.
I took a deep breath. I was glad that I had remembered Frog, but I was frustrated that it came at the expense of so many other horrible memories. I was emotionally exhausted and I just wanted to go to sleep. I put the charm bracelet on my wrist, not sure what it even meant that I was wearing it, and climbed in bed. Dozens of thoughts ran through my head, but the last image that lingered in my subconscious before I drifted off to sleep was one of a young Frog smiling at me.