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confusion. “Oh, because it’s Nathan. But they’re so beautiful.” She held one out, but I refused to look at the image. “How can you draw this and think you have any place in the world other than as an artist of some kind?”
    “Stop it.” I hurried to the bathroom where I scrubbed at my hands. The red paint swirled around the basin, invoking bad memories, and I washed those away, too. Nathan was away fighting violent werewolves, while I stayed home to paint banners and hide sketches.
    “Perdy,” Gran said from the doorway. “Why are you upset with me?”
    “I’m not upset with you. I’m just… I can’t stop drawing him. Even when I’m not thinking about him, out he pops from the end of my pencil. It’s annoying, that’s all.”
    “You care about him. It’s only natural to find it hard to get over your first love.”
    I choked out a strangled laugh. “Haven’t you heard Dad? Teenagers don’t love .”
    “Oh, don’t give me that. He did when he was a teen. That’s what his problem is.”
    “Gran…”
    “It’s nothing to be ashamed about. You tell me he’s a good boy, and I believe you. You say he hasn’t done anything wrong, and I believe you. But when you tell me you don’t care, when you tell me you’re over it, those are the things I can’t believe. Not because there’s something wrong with you, but because you’re perfectly normal.”
    “I miss him,” I whispered. “I miss… everything.”
    “You could always talk to him.”
    “I can’t. I don’t want to. I need to forget about this year, do whatever Dad wants, and when the time comes, go where I need to be.”
    She hesitated. “I want you to be happy.”
    I tried to smile. “I know, Gran. And I am happy. I’m just stressed about Dad right now.” I brushed past her, but I knew she didn’t buy it.
    Dad was coming home the following afternoon, and I wished I knew how to fix the badness between us. I would do anything to make him better again.
    Gran and I cleaned up the entire house, bought all of Dad’s favourite things to eat, and consulted with a tired-looking Erin on what we could do with him for the rest of the summer holidays to stop him from losing his mind completely. Of course, we didn’t vocalise it so bluntly, but I could totally tell we were all thinking the same thing.
    “He’ll probably want a lot of rest,” Erin said doubtfully as she peered at Gran’s list of activities. “I mean, he’s still very weak.”
    “Yeah, but sitting around doing nothing makes him grouchy.” I frowned, concerned by Erin ’s wan complexion. “Are you getting enough rest?”
    Dots of pink appeared on her cheekbones. “I’m fine.”
    We spoke some more about the logistics of bringing Dad and his newly acquired mountain of hospital stuff home. He had pills to take, exercise routines to follow, all kinds of things designed to get him back to himself.
    “Is he ever going to be the same again?” I asked.
    “Of course,” Gran said.
    But Erin wasn’t sure at all. “It’ll take time,” she said at last.
    The guilt from that truth had been shadowing me for a while. The uncertainty and fear were derived from my actions. I had killed a werewolf, so his vengeful daughter had attacked my father. Although Jakob Evans had hinted that he knew how to fix Dad, the Evans family had kept their distance. No amount of hospital tests and pills could cure whatever was wrong with my father.
    The next morning, Gran insisted on hovering around me until her nervousness had me wound just as tight, so I decided the banner was dry enough to hang up. When I finished, I climbed down from the stepladder and eyed the banner carefully. A little crooked, but maybe nobody would notice. I folded the ladder and prepared to go back inside.
    “It’s a bit off,” a voice behind me said.
    I dropped the ladder with a clatter that made me wince. I turned, saw who it was, and took an automatic step backward.
    “Hey,” Amelia said somewhat sheepishly, and