And Papa wasn’t worth pissing off. Trust me.
“Ant!”
He was faster than me. Better at fishing, better at jumping and tying knots, better at languages.
I was better at math and shooting. I could hit a beer bottle from fifty yards with my eyes closed. He couldn’t hit a freaking barn if he wanted.
But he was my big brother and I loved him.
He reached the big rocks first. He always did. They were a bunch of huge freaking boulders right next to the lake. Papa said the lake was the remnant of a glacier or whatever, and the stones were from a glacier too. He said they were super old or whatever.
Not that it mattered.
I climbed up and sat next to Ant. We stared out at the halfway frozen lake. I pulled my knees to my chest, breath puffing out. “Think we’ll go home soon?”
Ant shrugged. “We usually do when it gets warm.”
“It’s kind of warm out now.”
“Don’t get your hopes up. Papa’s got something waiting for us still.”
I shivered. He always had a new game. That was what he called it: games.
But they weren’t games.
It was training.
“Might be easy. We did some hard stuff already.” Ran miles and miles in the snow. Fought each other for hours until one of us walked away bloody. Hunted bears and nearly got mauled.
Worse stuff. Painful stuff. I don’t like to talk about that stuff.
“It’s never easy with Papa. Sooner you accept that, the better.” Ant stared ahead, those ice-blue eyes with flecks of green. I wished I could be as smart as him one day.
A whistle pierced the quiet. My father’s whistle. His fingers in his mouth.
Ant sighed. “See, we shouldn’t talk about him. I swear, he can hear it.”
“Maybe we can wait. We can hide for a while. He might like it.”
“He’ll catch us and it’ll be worse.”
“He showed us—“
Ant put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “It’ll be okay. I promise.”
I sighed and forced myself to smile. “Yeah. I’m just joking.”
“Good one.” He grinned at me and hopped down off the rocks.
We walked back toward the cabin together. Papa stood down next to the lake wearing his big black jacket and smoking a pipe. The smoke curled around his head like a halo.
I slowed. Ant took the lead. He always did. Papa looked unhappy, his face drawn and serious. Ant never hesitated, even when Papa was pissed. Sometimes, I ran away, or tried to hide, or begged Papa not to hurt me, but Ant never did.
Ant stayed quiet. He said Papa hit harder when Ant tried to argue. He said it was better for both of us.
I wished I could be that brave.
“Boys.” Papa’s voice was the sound of that glacier, the one that dropped those rocks back there. Big and booming and real old.
“Papa.” Ant crossed his arms. “What’s going on?”
“I’ve got a game.” Papa’s eyes narrowed. “Take off your coat, Anthony.”
Ant didn’t pause. He stripped it off, tossed it aside.
I wanted to throw up. I hated these games. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe he’d make us wrestle and fight again. Ant always beat me—he was bigger and stronger and stuff—but he felt bad about it after. He couldn’t go easy, or else Papa would hurt us both, so he always went hard.
But he said sorry. I loved him so much for that.
“Walk out onto the ice.” Papa gestured at the half-frozen lake.
For once, Ant didn’t leap at his command. “You told us never to go out there when the thaw comes. You said it’s not thick enough.”
“It’s not.” Papa nodded as if he was happy Ant questioned him. “You remember what I taught you? About how to survive if the ice breaks?”
Ant looked wary. I felt scared.
“I remember,” Ant said.
I didn’t.
“Then walk out onto the ice, and when it breaks, I want you to show me.”
Ant stepped toward the lake and stared out at the white and gray expanse.
Papa always had games. Violent games, fun games. Sometimes we liked them and sometimes we ended up hurt. Mostly, we ended up hurt.
We never questioned it. But Ant seemed scared, way worse than usual.
That made me want to run and hide even more.
“Go on,” Papa said. “When you come back, we can go home, and you won’t ever have to come out here again.”
Ant looked back, eyes wide. “Really?”
“You’ve learned all you need.” Papa looked at me. “You have one more year, and then it’ll be your turn.”
I nodded, feeling gloomy. Another year without Ant? Gosh, what a freaking nightmare.
Ant looked happy though. It was a scary thing Papa wanted him to do, but this was the last game. Get through it and we go home.
He walked out onto the ice.
It cracked underfoot, but didn’t break. We knew how to walk real light and to stick to the thicker bits. Ant was good at it, and since he was still just a kid, he didn’t weigh all that much. He moved further and further out. Papa watched until Ant was like fifty feet away.