Callum & Harper (Sleepless 1)

“Oh, I distinctly remember feeling hollow.”

“Hollow,” he repeated thoughtfully.

“Yeah. I didn’t realize until much later in my life that the hollowness was basically a complete lack of feeling loved.”

“God, Harper.”

“What?” I said, sitting up.

Callum sat up just as abruptly. “I know exactly what you mean. My void existed until I’d say, sixteen or so and became friends with Charlie and Cherry. That’s when I realized what I’d been missing.”

We just stared at one another but not in pity the way so many people would look at us. No, this was a look of understanding and empathy. Callum half-grinned. I fought the urge to jump off and hug him until he turned blue. The moment passed and we both laid back down.

“So, the first foster parents I can distinctly remember were Mr. and Mrs. Campari. They actually made me call them that. I was four and already realized they weren’t in it for the long haul.

“Mr. and Mrs. Campari lived in Brooklyn, Dyker Heights to be exact, a pleasant neighborhood with manicured lawns and middle income families.

“I don’t remember them being cruel, just detached. I suppose they knew they couldn’t keep me and decided it be best not to form an attachment. I don’t blame them in the slightest.”

“When did you leave the Campari’s?” Callum asked quietly.

“I think I was six?” I stated, trying to fight through the memories. “I remember something about Mr. Campari having some sort of heart surgery. Anyway, that’s when I was moved to another household. I endured four new foster families until the age of ten. They were normal, nothing particularly strange about them. They just couldn’t handle my acting out. At eleven, I moved in with the Strauss’.” I paused, to gather myself and catch a single tear falling down my cheek. I caught the hitch in my throat. “They were my favorite. They were kind and gave me, I think, my philosophy on life as well as the morals I carry and live by. I was lucky to have them.

“I was with them until the age of fourteen. They’re responsible for my most treasured possession.”

“That book you keep wrapped in a cloth?”

I laughed. “Yeah, that.”

“What book is it?”

I stood and descended the bookcase stairs, hopping down each step with a lightheartedness I hadn’t felt in years. I was going to show Callum Tate my favorite thing in the entire world. I’d never shown anyone for fear they’d try to take it from me. It’d been hidden in my possession for so many years, it felt liberating to finally feel comfortable enough to show someone.

I grabbed my bag and dug my hand through my meager belongings. When my hand hit the carefully wrapped book, I gently pulled it from the bottom and walked over to the coffee table next to Callum’s makeshift bed. I knelt to sit on my ankles and placed the wrapped book on top of the table. I nodded my head at the lamp above Callum’s head and he turned it on.

I unwrapped the book carefully, exposing its cover.

“To Kill A Mockingbird,” he said with reverence, “by Harper Lee.”

I flipped the hard cover open and revealed Harper Lee’s signature.

“Signed!”

“I know!” I said giddily.

“How did you get this?” He asked, bringing his face reverently toward the signature.

“I won it. If you can believe that.”

“But how?”

“The Strauss’ took me with them on a summer vacation to visit family they had in North Carolina. It was the best and only trip of my life,” I said, looking back on the memories. “Anyway, there was some sort of beach carnival going on. Apparently, they’d been planning it for weeks because they had this jar full of buttons sit on the front counter at their local grocery store. You would pay twenty dollars to enter a guess at how many buttons filled the jar.

“Well, I didn’t even know the prize but I, now don’t freak out on me,” I laughed, “but I am a freak when it comes to guessing these things. I’ve never lost.”

“Never?”

“Not once. Of course, the other prizes were always lame. Although, I did win a bike once when I guessed how many cherries were inside a canning jar when I was nine but that was taken from me.”