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Back Moment of Truth Save as PDF
Chapters (47)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. One
  4. Two
  5. Three
  6. Four
  7. Five
  8. Six
  9. Seven
  10. Eight
  11. Nine
  12. Ten
  13. Eleven
  14. Twelve
  15. Thirteen
  16. Fourteen
  17. Fifteen
  18. Sixteen
  19. Seventeen
  20. Eighteen
  21. Nineteen
  22. Twenty
  23. Twenty-One
  24. Twenty-Two
  25. Twenty-Three
  26. Twenty-Four
  27. Twenty-Five
  28. Twenty-Six
  29. Twenty-Seven
  30. Twenty-Eight
  31. Twenty-Nine
  32. Thirty
  33. Thirty-One
  34. Thirty-Two
  35. Thirty-Three
  36. Thirty-Four
  37. Thirty-Five
  38. Thirty-Six
  39. Thirty-Seven
  40. Thirty-Eight
  41. Thirty-Nine
  42. 2 Months Later
  43. Acknowledgments
  44. About the Author
  45. Books by Kasie West
  46. Back Ad
  47. About the Publisher

He gave me a sad half smile, then climbed onto the platform and into the cab. He looked at his watch. Without needing to check the time, I knew it was now exactly 8:23. The time my brother had taken his last breath. Dad held up crossed fingers and turned the key. It rumbled to life, just like it did every single year.

My mom opened the cardboard box she held as my dad climbed down. The purring engine became the background noise for our mini memorial service. “Eighteen years ago Eric lost his battle with leukemia. Today I brought a few things to remember him by.” She reached into the box and pulled out a movie. “This was his favorite.”

I squinted to read the title. The Hunt for Red October. I’d never seen it before.

“He loved spy movies,” Mom said.

It surprised me that year after year she could come up with new things about him. I didn’t think she’d ever repeated herself. Never used the same memory twice. My palm started to sweat where it gripped the shopping bag. The Hot Tamales seemed so stupid now. My mom had brought the candy just last year.

The next thing she pulled out of the box was a water gun. “He was a jokester. He loved to hide out sometimes and surprise me when I rounded the corner.” She laughed a little. It was an odd thought—my mom getting pelted with a water gun. I couldn’t even imagine her reaction. Then again my brother had gotten the younger version of my parents. Now they were in their late fifties, graying hair and wrinkles in place. I wondered if they’d been more laid-back then. Either way, I wouldn’t dream of squirting any version of my mom with a water gun. I, apparently, was not a jokester.

“And last, I brought a picture of Eric with Julie at his junior prom. Do you remember this, Daniel?” She showed my dad first and he smiled.

“The funny thing about it was that just thirty minutes before this picture he was covered head to toe in grease from working on his truck all day. He cleaned up nice.” My dad showed me the picture.

I could see a little of myself in my brother. We had the same auburn hair and the same freckled skin. But he got my mom’s green eyes where I got my dad’s brown. I stared at the picture, wanting to know the stranger looking back at me. Wanting to know what it would have felt like to have an older brother. But again, I felt nothing.