The Sixteenth Need

CONTENTS Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Seven Chapter Twenty-Eight Chapter Twenty-Nine Chapter Thirty Chapter Thirty-One Epilogue Acknowledgments About the Author Copyright © 2023 Calia Read Cover Design by Emily Wittig Formatting by Jersey Girl Design ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the Author/Publisher. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. To Beans, Hooch, and EE. Thank you for being the greatest inspiration a sister could ask for. CHAPTER ONE SABLE NOW: EARLY JUNE “I have found that if you love life, life will love you back.” Oh, Arthur Rubinstein, I don’t know if I believe you. Every morning when I roll over in bed, I see those words. They stare back at me from their place on the wall in my bedroom. For years, I’ve tried to love my life, but that love has never been returned. Time and time again, I try to appreciate the things I’ve been given, but the results are always the same. Maybe I’m doing it wrong, though. Maybe I care too much about the stares everyone in this town gives me and my sisters. Maybe I need to stop counting down the days until I get the hell out of this podunk town and just take a deep breath. Or maybe I’m focusing too much on the reality of my surroundings. If I stop caring about everyone around me, will I see things the way they’re supposed to be? Right now, I have no answer for that. At the end of the summer, though, I hope to have one. “I think I’m having a heat stroke.” That’s Alba, one of my sisters. I glance over at her. She’s sitting next to me on the edge of the cracked sidewalk, gathering her hair up at the top of her head with one hand, while waving her free hand inches away from her neck. “Last I looked at the thermostat, it said 105,” she says with her eyes closed. Even though we’ve only been outside for a few minutes, my soda is already warm. Droplets of sweat are trailing down my neck. I put a hand in front of me and watch the heat distort it. Blinking rapidly, my hand starts to disappear, melting into the heat. I almost wish it’s that easy. A simple blink and I disappear from this life. But I can’t. “You’re not having a heat stroke, you nitwit.” I look over my shoulder at the long row of brick buildings where a thermometer hangs. “And that thing has been broken for years,” I reply. Truth be told, almost everything in this town is broken. The building behind us only has one small section occupied. A barber shop pole hangs above the door. The red and blue lines slowly twirl around, almost like they’re struggling through the heat too. The rest of the buildings are vacant, with their front windows boarded up, or for sale signs that have been there for so long the words have faded away. This is Antsett, Illinois. Population: 1,129. It’s just a dressed-up version of a village. I’m sure way back in the 1800s this town used to be bustling. People coming and going. Families growing. Filled with nothing but life. But now it’s virtually a ghost town. Very slowly, it’s dying, and if I don’t leave soon, it’ll grab a hold of me and I’ll die right along with it. Exhaust fumes linger in the air from the few cars that have passed by. The speed limit is thirty-five, but hardly anyone goes that slow and the ones that do quickly speed up the second they’re on the outskirts of town. It’s like they can’t get out of this town fast enough. I don’t blame them one bit. I face the road, but the view isn’t much better. On the other side of the road is a car wash, with the W hanging sideways. The only time it’s ever used is when the fire department needs to wash their trucks. Broken glass bottles and small rocks litter the sides of the main road. The storm drains are rusted out. Weeds grow in the cracks on the sidewalk. Potholes haven’t been filled on the roads. There’s a gas station, small diner, bank and library. On the outskirts of town sits a sketchy used car dealership. And...that’s about it. Not much to do or see. “Either way, it’s too hot. Let’s find a place with air conditioning,” Maren states confidently. “I suggest the library. Out of all the places in Antsett, it’s the only one guaranteed to have air conditioning.” Alba looks over Maren’s head at me and smiles. “I agree.” She hops up from the sidewalk and dusts off the back of her thighs. “I second that,” Lennon, the youngest out of the four of us, pipes up. We all stand, but before we walk across the road, I gather our half-empty soda cans and chip bags. Just then, a couple walks by and Alba’s smile widens. “Hi, Mr. Plaza,” Alba says with false cheerfulness. Her finesse-free attitude makes most people unsure of her. She plays with the residents of Antsett like they’re string puppets created for her amusement. The four