Excerpt from Saints of the Household by Ari Tison, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

FIVE-THIRTY


Our dad's truck arrives home at five-thirty, just fifteen minutes after we get back from school. Even though this is the way we've organized it for years, Max sucks in his breath every time.

Every time.


EMPIRE BUILDER


We once took a family trip on a train to Glacier National Park, Montana. Tucked in the Empire Builder, a two-story train, Max and I shared a blanket we still have. While Max sketched a ranch scene of Montana, I was content watching from the window as each span of land went by. I could tell by the hundreds of miles of brown grass in other states that Minnesota had an abundance of water.

I'm sure there's a reason God lets some land dry, other land grow, but when we returned home and saw the lakes and green grass, I knew I was blessed to live in a land that felt so alive. If Minnesota can somehow survive six months of winter and cold, maybe we can, too. Just a few more months before I can see green again.


AT SCHOOL


I finally see Nicole in the library checking out and returning books, her round glasses on the tip of her nose. I wonder if she'll be upset with me. My hands shake at the thought. I put them under the strap of my backpack and try to hold steady while I browse. I like reading anthropology, myths, anything ancient, especially math discoveries. I decide to keep my eyes to the shelves, but in a moment, Nicole is next to me, putting her books on the floor beside her black boots. She doesn't even question giving me a hug.

"Hey, I need your number," she says, and her tone is sure. Her short black hair a straight cut right at her chin.

"I was messaging you on Instagram and Snap."

She pulls away from the hug. "I deleted all my apps after moving. I miss my friends too much. I'm tired of seeing their stories and feeling jealous all the time." Her honesty reminds me of when we were little; it was hard to be fake with her. She hands me her phone after typing in the password. I smile, remembering we didn't have phones last time we went to school together.

"We're all old." She laughs like she read my mind.

"Yeah." I smile as I put my number in.

"You doing okay?" I ask, and hand her phone back. The last time I saw her—the police were talking to her separately, and she was icecold. Hardly answering them.

"Shitty. But, you know, I'm here," she says.

I want to say I'm sorry. That I hope she isn't mad at me. That I shouldn't have gone so far.

"Your hand is shaking," she says, looking down. Her dark eyebrows together and lips pursed.

I step away and shrug. "Happens sometimes."

She lifts an eyebrow. "They have you in counseling, right?"

"It sucks."

She laughs. "They're going to break you open like that kid in Good Will Hunting." "Are they making you go, too?" I ask.

"To counseling? Nah, I've already got a therapist," she says. "I'm all set."

She picks up her books again, and I can see some of the stack she has. She Would Be King. The Modern Herbal Dispensatory. Indigenous Social Work Around the World. They are definitely not for classes.

"Checking out the entire library?" I turn my head to read the other titles.

"This one was on my list." She taps the herbal dispensatory title. "They ordered it for me on my first day."

"Of course they did," I say. The warning bell goes off.

"I better go," she says, shrugging.

"Same. I'm sure I'll see you soon."

She nods. I turn to head toward English and look back just for a second. Nicole's eyes, which shined bright for the moments we talked, have now lost some of their fire.

I want to ask her what really happened in the woods. Where she and Luca were at. I've had no updates over our suspension except from one member of my calc group telling me that he saw Nicole and Luca walking together the other day. She didn't seem to hate me for beating him up, but she didn't tell me anything more, either.

Excerpted from Saints of the Household by Ari Tison. Copyright © 2023 by Ari Tison. Excerpted by permission of Farrar, Straus & Giroux. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.