Chapter 1

 

Brooke watched the ceiling fan blades circle above her. Beads of sweat rolled down her forehead. A small drop hung from her eyelash. She squinted, the salty sweat stinging her eyes. When she peeled herself off the sheets, a damp imprint formed an outline of her body.

 

Her feet rubbed against the hot wooden floorboards covered in a thin, grainy layer of sand. Footprints from the night before were still etched in the granules. Waging war against the invading dirt was a losing battle, one that she had stopped fighting so rigorously as of late.

 

Brooke tugged at her shirt in attempt to separate the cotton fabric from her skin. The slowly circling fan in her room did little more than push the already hot air around. She made her way to the bathroom, fanning herself along the way and trying to loosen the strands of hair glued to her forehead.

 

The digital display of the water gauge, which broke down the level of water usage by day along with their total weekly allowance, beeped on the bathroom wall next to the mirror. It was a constant reminder of their dry world. Brooke tapped the screen, shaking her head.

 

“That can’t be right,” she said.

 

Rations for her family of three gave them usage of five hundred gallons of water per week. According to the gauge, more than a quarter of that was gone. And it was only Monday. Brooke checked the usage log. The time limit had been overridden three times.

 

“Jonathan!”

 

Brooke almost broke her son's door in half with the force of her entrance. The reflection of the mirror John was using captured the scowl on his mother's face. He was shirtless, a towel draped around his waist, fresh from his morning shower.

 

“Mom, I’m changing!”

 

“Do you know how much water you used this morning?”

 

Water dripped from his elbows and rolled down his legs. The droplets splashed onto the floor. The mixture of sand and moisture formed bits of mud around John's feet.

 

“You used over one hundred gallons of water. One hundred, John.”

 

John turned to check his reflection in the mirror. He carefully ran the comb through his blond curls, slicking his hair back.

 

“It’s my first day of high school, Mom. I can’t show up dirty.”

 

“And how do you expect us to make it through the rest of the week?”

 

“I’ll make it up over the next few days.”

 

“By not eating or drinking?”

 

“Mom, you’re being dramatic.”

 

Brooke snatched the comb out of her son’s hand.

 

“Hey!” John said.

 

“You’re on filter duty this morning,” Brooke said.

 

“Mom, I’m already clean! That’s not fair!”

 

“Maybe you’ll think of that next time you need to wash your hair.”

 

John stomped after Brooke as she exited his room. John's slamming of the door behind her rattled the entire house and blew a rush of sand against her calves.


The living room shared the same fine layer of sand that plagued the rest of the house. The only item that Brooke refused to allow any particle of dirt or dust to touch was a triangular case enclosing an American flag.

 

It rested atop a cherry-finished oak table, the sturdiest surface in the entire house. A picture of Brooke's late husband Jason rested alongside the flag.

 

Brooke used the bottom of her shirt to clear the table, case, and picture frame of any particles. She kissed the fingertips of her left hand then placed them on her husband's face, revealing the wedding ring she still wore.

 

Emily was still sleeping when Brooke opened her daughter's door. The sheets were stripped from the bed, and Emily rolled around, sensing her mother's presence.

 

“Time to get up, Em,” Brooke said.

 

Brooke patted Emily's stomach as her daughter stretched, wiggling her fingers and toes, yawning.

 

“Do I have to go to school today?” Emily asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

 

“Yes.”

 

“But I don’t want to go.”

 

“What are you talking about? You’re going to have a blast! You’ll get to see all your friends, learn cool stuff, and you know they always turn the sprinklers on at the end of the first day for all the students to play in.”

 

“Yeah, but everyone is going to make fun of my tooth.”

 

“No, they won’t. And besides, it’s not that bad. Let me see.”

 

Emily smiled, flicking her tongue through the open space where her left front tooth was supposed to be.

 

“Seeeeeeeeee?” Emily asked.

 

“Oh, man. You could fit a train through that thing,” Brooke said, putting her pinky in the gap. “You know what you could do is shoot water out of it like a fountain.”

 

“Cool!”

 

“And guess what?”

 

“What?”

 

“You don’t have to take a shower this morning!”

 

“Really?” Emily asked, smiling from ear to ear.

 

“Absolutely.”

 

“Thanks, Mom!”

 

Emily bounced off the bed. Her tiny feet thumped across the floor as she ran to the kitchen. Brooke wasn't sure how much longer her daughter's disdain of showers would last, but she was going to milk it for as long as possible.

 

The refrigerator hummed loudly. A cool blast of air greeted Brooke's face as she mulled over the breakfast options. She grabbed the jug of milk and set it on the counter.

 

Brooke walked over to the thermostat. She wiped the layer of dust from the screen with her thumb. It was only seven o'clock, and it was already one hundred and four degrees outside.

 

“I wonder what the high will be?” she asked herself.

 

Emily swung her feet back and forth as she sat on the stool. She tilted her head side to side and drummed her hands on the countertop. Brooke poured the cereal and milk into her daughter's bowl.

 

“Thanks, Mom,” Emily said.

 

John walked into the kitchen and grabbed his own bowl out of the cabinet. He didn't acknowledge anyone's presence. He poured himself some cereal and sat at the table by himself instead of at the counter with his sister and mother.