Catch a Falling Star by Beth K. Vogt

down the sidewalk.
    The lot looked fairly empty. A good sign. Now if only the waiting room was empty, too. Maybe they’d get in there, see the doctor, and get home. He could feel his heart rate elevating thecloser he got to the front door, the name of the practice etched across the glass against the outline of a mountain range.
    The same tall receptionist with the welcoming smile staffed the front desk. Today dancing thermometers adorned her scrub top.
    â€œColonel Walker, it’s nice to see you and Ian again.” She handed him a neon purple clipboard containing several pieces of paper. “I’m sorry Dr. Kendall didn’t have a morning appointment. The good news is, she’s running ahead of schedule today.”
    â€œTerrific. Excuse me, um—” He glanced at her name tag, adorned with the outline of Pikes Peak. “—Evie, didn’t we fill this out the last time?”
    â€œYes.” As the phone rang, she adjusted the mouthpiece of her headset. “Just double-check to make sure everything’s correct and then have Ian give it back to me.”
    Griffin walked over to where Ian slouched in a chair, dropping the paperwork in his lap.
    â€œHey!” The teen looked up. “What’s this?”
    â€œYour medical paperwork. Make sure everything’s right.” Griffin settled himself in next to his brother, ready to check his emails on his iPhone.
    â€œWhy aren’t you doing this?”
    â€œYour information. Your responsibility.”
    â€œBut Mom always did this kind of stuff.”
    Griffin held up his hand, blocking Ian’s attempt to hand back the clipboard. “I’m not Mom.”
    â€œNo kidding.” Ian shifted away from him.
    Enough already.
    â€œIan.” He waited, staring at the back of his brother’s head. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”
    â€œGoing all hard-core guardian on me?”
    â€œJust asking for a little respect—and a little eye contact.”He pulled the boy’s orange-and-blue Florida Gators cap off his head, ignoring the teen’s protest and tossing it on the table beside him. “I understand it’s hard for you without Mom and Dad.”
    â€œSure you do.”
    â€œThey’re my parents, too.”
    â€œI get it. They’re your real parents—not mine.”
    Griffin lowered his voice. “That is not what I said at all. We both miss them.”
    â€œAs if.”
    Ian’s hazel eyes glinted with unshed tears before he dashed them away with a balled-up fist. Where was all this emotion coming from?
    â€œYou never talk about them. Never. Forget about it.” Ian stood and walked across the room, settling into another chair and training his eyes on the papers.
    What was his brother doing, lobbing a verbal grenade like that? What did Ian want him to do, sit around and mope? His parents were dead. And he was Ian’s guardian—and as far as he could tell, he was doing a lousy job at it. When it was just him, Griffin didn’t care if the fridge was mostly empty. He’d swing by Whole Foods, stroll through the hot food section, and grab a quick dinner. Or drive through Chick-fil-A and order a value meal. Apparently that kind of lifestyle wasn’t keeping Ian happy. Well, he was sorry about that, but he hadn’t cooked a meal in . . . well, he didn’t cook.
    And laundry? If his mom were alive, he’d call her and thank her for every pair of socks, every pair of jeans, every single T-shirt she ever washed, folded, and put in his dresser drawers. He was lucky if he got Ian’s clothes moved from the washer to the dryer.
    He was flunking this whole guardian gig.
    â€œIan Walker?”
    One of the medical assistants stood at the door that led to the exam rooms. Ian bolted from his chair, not looking at Griffin.
    Should he follow? Stay in the waiting room?
    Kendall Haynes’s words came back to taunt him: Just be