by Vera Hollins
“Sis?”
“Yeah?”
He raised himself up to his elbows, his smile widening. “You’re babbling.”
I swatted his shoulder. “That’s because I’m nervous, you microscopic brain.”
“Aaand she’s hitting me again. You seriously have to stop hitting me all the time. It’s not nice to be on the receiving end, you know?” To prove this, he nudged my shoulder a bit too hard, but it couldn’t even compare to my punches.
I let out a pfft. “That’s the best you can do? You used to hit me a lot harder when we were kids.”
He let out another chuckle. “Ah, yes. The good old times. Before you learned how to pack a punch.” His smile diminished. “I saw your last message.”
I glanced away and bit my nail. “And?”
“And I’m sorry, too.” I looked back at him, a blossom of hope coming to life in my chest, and he continued, “For what I said that day. For many things.”
“Then come back. Come home. Try getting clean.” I caught his hand and gripped it hard. This was a long shot, but it was worth trying. “Let me help you, okay? I’m on your side, so don’t shut me out.”
He held my gaze for a long time, remaining silent. I almost thought he was going to refuse me, but then he said, “Okay. I’ll do that.”
“You will? You’ll try to get clean?”
“Yep.”
“You promise?”
He smiled. “I promise.”
It sounded almost too good to be true, but I didn’t say that. I raised my hands high. “We have to celebrate!”
He arched his eyebrow. “Celebrate what?”
“That you’re finally going to take a shower!” I held my nose. “Because you reek. It’s worse than cow and goat shit mixed together!”
He rolled his eyes and grumbled something about me overreacting, but he didn’t complain when I pushed him all the way to his room and literally shoved him into his bathroom.
“And don’t come out until you’re squeaky clean,” I told him with a grin before I shut the door.
I leaned against it and closed my eyes, my smile dropping. A shaky sigh passed my lips. I was relieved that he was safe, but I couldn’t trust him. I knew enough about addicts to know it wasn’t this easy. He’d let me down too many times since he’d started using, promising something only to go back on his word, so I would be a fool to think this time would be any different.
I didn’t know why he’d had a sudden change of heart and come home, but I had to keep an eye on him. I also had to keep an eye on our credit cards.
As I left his room and headed to the kitchen to make myself that sandwich, I let that one grain of hope live on. If he really wanted to give up on drugs, the road in front of us would be awfully bumpy, but I would be there for him.
Mom was ecstatic when she saw Steven. She almost suffocated him in her embrace before her tear-hydrant broke and she erupted into a jet of tears, repeating how much she loved him over and over like a broken record. She even went overboard with his favorite caramel apple pancakes, making enough to feed the entire population of Mozambique. Steven played the role of the dutiful son well, promising to be better, but I couldn’t help take it with a grain of salt. Where was this sudden change coming from? Was he trying to manipulate us to get something in the end?
We spent the evening watching Netflix and competing on who could gobble down the most popcorn, and despite appearing relaxed, I was anything but. My mind was running rampant. Steven didn’t want to tell me how he’d spent the days while he was gone, but after the fourth episode of Daredevil, he became chattier and decided to open up.
I studied his face and movements as he recollected his days at his junkie friends’ places, looking for any signs of withdrawal. He’d said he hadn’t taken any drug since yesterday, but that had to be a blatant lie since he would’ve had some withdrawal symptoms by now, and yet he had none, and that itself was a red flag. I even mentioned a group treatment to him, watching his reaction closely, but instead of refusing, he said he would give it a try.
He returned to school the next day, freshly showered and looking decent for a change. He even agreed to let Mom take him to the doctor after school to fix his nose. Mrs. Aguda demanded to see him in her office, and I gave him the thumbs-up, cheering him on as if he were about to fight in a WWE match. Mom had said she would look for the best treatment in the area and sign him up for it as soon as possible, and I wondered how that would work out.
The morning dragged on, but it was more bearable now that Steven had returned to school. Barbie had started sending me lewd texts, but after he sent me a screenshot of orgy porn, I decided I’d had more than enough and blocked his number. I was bored to death in statistics, which was a good enough incentive for me to do something more productive—like strike back at Barbie. I made an Instagram account called your_worst_nightmare and went to his profile, wishing Instagram had a “Dislike” button. I would “Dislike” every single one of his photos.
But never fear! I could comment, so I spammed each photo with a lot of “You’re ugly”, “My poop-covered ass looks better than you”, and “Pudding face.” By the time he saw my comments and blocked me, I’d already done more than enough damage.
I walked out of the classroom feeling revitalized, wearing a smug smile on my face. I opened my locker to put my stuff inside, but then someone bumped into me from behind, and I barely caught myself against the lockers before I banged my head on the metal.
“Watch it!” I snarled as I swiveled around. My gaze clashed with Barbie’s, who stood right in front of me with a smirk of contempt.
“You really think you can take me down with your pathetic comments?” He rolled his eyes. “Get a life.”
“I do have a life—a life of torturing you! Believe me, it’s so damn fun.”
“You know what else is fun? Sex. Here.” He tossed me a small package. I caught it with one hand and hissed when I saw it was a pack of condoms. Eww! Eww! Eww! “Take those and use them in case you actually manage to have sex this century. The world definitely doesn’t need your spawns, Satan.”
I hurled the pack back at him as though it contained AIDS, aiming for his head, but he wasn’t the school’s wide receiver for nothing. He caught it with ease and tossed it directly into my locker.
“Take them,” he repeated. “And google how to use them.” He moved backward. “Because I would be surprised if you weren’t actually a virgin.” He said this loudly enough for almost everyone in the hallway to hear him. “Since you’re ugly and all.” He winked at me and walked away, passing by a group of students who started cackling at me.
Shaking with rage, I grabbed the pack of condoms from the locker and flung it at him, but he was too far away and I missed him by a few feet. I threw my books and notebook into my locker and slammed it shut with all the strength I possessed, creating an excruciatingly loud bang that drew everyone’s eyes to me, but I didn’t notice. I didn’t even hear anyone but him.
“I like you so much.”
“You want me.”
“I saw the way you looked at me.”
“You and I are so good together.”
“No!” I rammed my fist into the locker, welcoming the pain that helped me stay in the present.
“Freak,” some girl said, and I glared at her.
“What did you just say?” I snapped, and she shrank back, unable to even look me in the eyes.
Two guys nearby sniggered. “Are you really a virgin?” one of them asked as I passed by him.
“And did you really poop yourself last night in your sleep?” I asked, which earned me a howl of amused laughter from his friend. He remained silent. “That’s what I thought.”
A few mindless sheep called me “ugly virgin” as I walked down the hallway to the cafeteria, proving we would never reach the peak of our civilization with the idiots like them.
“Is that the best you’ve got?” I taunted them. “Come on. Surely you can be more original than that
.”
A couple of them laughed at me, but the rest looked away quickly, showing me they were actually wimps. I stalked into the cafeteria ready to fight Barbie by any means necessary, but he wasn’t there, and he didn’t come at all.
He wasn’t the only one—Steven was absent too, and when I texted him to see where he was, he didn’t even reply. Not good at all.
I went to my next class thinking Steven was playing hooky again or causing trouble somewhere on the school premises, but just as I reached the second floor, he came out of the nearest restroom, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. I came to a screeching halt, my stomach tightening into an aching ball. I recognized the old signs of his addiction. They said: “Steven Brooks is the biggest liar in the universe.” Of course it couldn’t have been that easy.
My eyes narrowed at him. “What are you doing?”
He grinned at me. It was an unnaturally large grin and gave me the creeps. “Back to twenty questions, sis?”
“I’m serious.”
His arm dropped around my shoulders, and he ushered me toward the classroom. “Chillax. I’m not using, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“That’s exactly what I’m thinking.”
“I told you I’ve stopped. Okay?”
“Then why aren’t you going through withdrawal?”
His smile faltered by a fraction. “Well, maaaybe I took a small dose just to help me get through it. You know it’s not good to stop so suddenly. This way my body will get used to it gradually, and I’ll be able to get clean more easily.”
“You’re bullshitting me.”
We stopped in front of my classroom, and he smiled the very same smile I used to mask my true feelings. It was a Brooks’ family trademark. “That’s the truth. I’m quitting. I swear. Now, you better get to your class if you don’t want to be late, Miss Vice President. You don’t want to ruin your rep.”
He patted my head and strolled away, whistling the theme song from The Simpsons. I didn’t move as I watched him leave, powerless to do anything that would get through to him or show him what a joke he was.
The Student Code coordinator called me on Wednesday to check up on my progress and see if there were any problems. I didn’t tell her that my issue in that house wasn’t Eli. No, it was only his brother, who was getting on my nerves more and more every day.
Today’s lunch had been unbearable because we’d had a verbal ping-pong match, which amused Steven to no end. He even said he was going to bring a sack of popcorn to eat as he watched us next time. I told him I was going to push his head into the sack and let him suffocate if he did that. This only amused him even more. Typical Steven.
In psychology, I arrived at my seat only to find it covered with dozens of unused condoms. Nobody knew anything—of course—and when I warned Barbie I was going to report him to the principal, he denied he had anything to do with it and dared me to try to prove he was behind it. Maybe someone else had done it, sure, but I was certain he’d hired that person to do his dirty work for him.
I got my revenge when I spit out my chewing gum and plastered it directly into his hair on my way out of the classroom, making sure it would take him eons to get out. In the best-case scenario, he’d have to shave his hair off and by some miraculous twist of destiny it wouldn’t grow back, so he’d have a bald spot forever and ever.
I cackled, imagining that look, and turned onto Eli’s street. I parked behind their minivan and thanked my lucky stars that Barbie’s Corvette wasn’t parked in the driveway. He was probably stuck at school taking that gum out. I cackled again. Fingers crossed.
I rang the bell, and Eli opened the door, dressed in a red Ferrari F1 T-shirt and shorts. My gaze skimmed down his legs because this was the first time he’d worn something that revealed them. I was curious, almost expecting to see bony legs with no calf or thigh muscles, but my expectations were proven wrong again, because despite being skinny, there was some tone to his legs.
I gave him a salute. “Hey, General Fabulous!”
My chest warmed a little as he let out a small chuckle. “Hey, General Awesome.”
“That’s one mighty fine T-shirt you have.”
“You think?”
“Yeah. Is Ferrari your most favorite F1 team?”
“Yep. And Michael Schumacher is the best driver of all time.” His small smile faded. “But he had a skiing accident in 2013, and he was reportedly paralyzed.”
“Damn,” I said quietly, struck by the irony.
One day you had it all, and the next, everything was burned to cinders, leaving you to pick up the pieces of your life, which would never be the same again. In the end, it didn’t matter whether we were rich, famous, or powerful. Our bodies were still fragile and powerless against the current of life.
“Anyway, I wanna show you something. Follow me.”
He led me through the empty house (I wondered if I was ever going to meet his dad, who was, apparently, married to his job) and out to the back porch, which had a ramp allowing him to access the backyard. That ramp continued onto a flat garden path that curved all the way down to a huge tree at the back of the yard. My eyes widened when I spotted a big rabbit house in a huge enclosed pen near the tree. The house had two levels, and various wooden toys lay scattered on the ground. That was one mighty bunny setup.
“Would you look at that?” I pointed to the fluffiest bunny I’d ever seen, who was eating hay out of a hay rack. He was white with black ears, and black rings around his black eyes made him look like a panda. He was smaller than a cat and looking so damn squishy. He stopped eating with a piece of hay sticking out of his tiny mouth and focused on us, his ears rotating in our direction.
“This, ladies and gentlemen, is the true definition of a heartthrob! Look at those bulging eyes that just keep begging you for food. Look at him stuff that hay into his mouth like his belly is bottomless. Look at those sweet, sweet paws that will rip your eyes out if you even try to take his food away from him.”
Eli observed me as though he was watching the finest example of human lunacy. “Pigi isn’t aggressive at all.”
I kneeled next to the pen. “My kind of pet. Does he like to cuddle?”
“A lot, and he’s not afraid of new people. He’s pretty social. You can cuddle him if you want to.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice!”
I opened the small door to the pen and offered the bunny my hand. He hopped over to me and stopped only inches from my hand to inspect it, sniffing it. I chuckled and caressed his furry head, surprised by how silky and soft he felt. His head started shaking, which was accompanied by a teeth-clicking sound.
“What’s that?”
“It means he’s enjoying your cuddles. It’s called bunny purring, like cat purring.”
“Sweet.” He was melting my cold, cold heart. I ran my hand over his back, up and down. “I didn’t know you had a bunny.”
“Mace found him on the street and brought him home because he knew I’ve always loved bunnies.”
My teeth gritted together. At this rate, Barbie would turn out to be Brother of the Year.
“But then why don’t you keep him in the house?” I asked, expecting to hear that Barbie hated him and kicked him out of the house the first chance he got. I was already ready to grab my pitchfork.
“Mace is allergic to his fur.”
Aha! I knew it! It was because of him that—
“He insisted we keep him in the house for me, but Dad didn’t agree, because his allergy was starting to get worse and the nasal sprays didn’t work. So, Mace built this house for him, and he cleans it and feeds him. He even wants us to adopt another bunny so Pigi won’t be alone out here.”
I pursed my lips together. Forget about Brother of the Year. He was becoming Brother of the Century. Damn him.
“Well, he’s just perfect, isn’t he,” I muttered to myself as I stroked Pigi’s head, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “A little ray of sunshine. A little flower waving in the
wind in the middle of a pasture. A little—” I felt Eli’s gaze on me, and I turned to look at him. “What?”
He blushed and glanced away. “Erm . . .”
“What?”
He sighed. “Do you like my brother?”
My jaw dropped—not to the floor, but all the way to China. “Wait. Let me check this because I’m sure I heard it wrong. Did you just ask me if I liked your brother?”
He stared at his lap, his blush tripling. I didn’t have it in me to force the answer out of him.
“No,” I said. “And that’s the biggest no that has ever existed. What made you ask such an atrocity?”
He still wouldn’t look at me. “I asked because sometimes people pick on the person they like.”
“Believe me, buddy. I don’t like your brother. Never have. Never will.”
His smile fell, and he returned his gaze to his lap. “That’s too bad.”
Frowning, I pushed Pigi back gently and closed the door. “Why?”
“Because he needs someone he can rely on. He always does everything on his own for me, for Dad . . . All this time he’s been doing his best to provide for us. But I really want someone to be there for him. Ever since our mom—” He stopped.
My ears perked up in interest. I’d been wondering about their mom ever since Mawar told me their parents were divorced. “Ever since your mom what?”
He stared at Pigi, avoiding my gaze. “Nothing.”
“You know you can tell me everything, General Fabulous. I’ll never breathe a word of it to anyone.”
The moment I said this, my inner voice whispered the reminder that I was lying, because Eli was a precious source of information I could use against Barbie. What was better than hitting Barbie where it hurt the most?
But then again, any information about their mom involved Eli, too. I couldn’t hurt Eli.
“I trust you, but Mace doesn’t, so . . .” Shame coated his cheeks.
“Right. That’s okay. You don’t have to tell me, but I would like to know just one little, tiny thing. Is your mom okay?”