by Vera Hollins
Once the short intro finished and Eli started controlling the boat, I asked, “Say, why are you homeschooled?”
If he said it was because Masen was ashamed of him, I would cut that asshole’s jugular vein and dump his body into the nearest dumpster.
He drew his lips into a tight line. “The kids at school didn’t treat me very nicely after the accident. They called me a gimp and other names. Mace fought them for me, but I just couldn’t take it anymore. So, I asked Dad if I could be homeschooled.”
“And you’ve been homeschooled ever since?”
“Yeah.”
I watched him trying to avoid the enemy boats as they surrounded him. “Do you ever want to go to high school? Meet new people?”
He didn’t reply immediately, putting all his focus into the game until Nate fell into the water. “Yes. Sometimes I really want that.”
“Why don’t you try?”
He paused the game and looked down at his controller. “As you’ve maybe noticed, I’m awkward with people,” he mumbled.
“That’s okay. I’m awkward, too. I’m the queen of awkwardness every time I open my mouth.” I raised my finger when he looked at me. “But that’s what makes us special. Unique. The most extraordinary, memorable, superb—you name it.”
He let out a tiny giggle. “Nuts?”
“Yep. That, too. You’re missing out on a lot, buddy, believe me. Yes, high school is a jungle, but at least you’re among people, and we, Homo sapiens, are social beings who need to chew the fat at least twenty times a day and talk about everything relevant and irrelevant. So, fret not, because I’m foreseeing an extremely long line of friends and girls vying for your attention.”
He murmured he would think about it and returned to the game. I was content just watching him play, passing up my chance when he said it was my turn. I found myself enjoying his company more than I’d thought I would, forgetting that the whole point of the program was to be able to go to college. I was gaining a new friend.
And somehow, this was exactly what my cold heart needed these days.
Sometime later, I took him to see the greenhouse, which luckily had an accessible entrance. We headed along a brick walkway that curved around plants of all sizes and shapes, the scents dancing together in the air to create a potent smell. I loved how the afternoon sun illuminated the space through the tinted glass ceiling and allowed for an intricate pattern of shadows to bathe the ground and leaves. The greenhouse wasn’t magical, but it surely looked that way.
Eli couldn’t stop gushing over it, his eyes starry as he took in all of Mom’s plants. As if summoned, she arrived just then, but she wasn’t alone. Masen stood next to her at the entrance to the greenhouse, studying the plants with a look of wonder on his face.
“You were playing it down, Mrs. Brooks. Your greenhouse is a work of art,” he said smoothly, and my mom actually blushed. What. The. Hell?
Her smile was so rare to see these days, but here she was, smiling now, turning into mush because of Masen freaking Brown.
“Why, thank you,” she chirped. Like literally chirped.
He met my gaze, and I cast him the nastiest scowl possible. What was that all about? I didn’t need him to charm my mother. Not on my watch.
“Mom,” I said loudly to draw her attention away from Masen. “This is Eli. He’s that superhero I told you about. He saved my life when I fell off a skyscraper and he caught me with his Spidey net before I could kiss the ground.”
Mom approached Eli, her smile stretching. “Oh, Meli, be serious. I’m Julianne. It’s nice to meet you. Meli has told me a lot about you, but she didn’t tell me you were this cute.”
Eli turned a deep shade of red. “Thanks. It’s nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Brooks.” He extended his hand, and Mom caught it for a handshake. “I agree with Mace. Your greenhouse is amazing.”
“Thank you, sweetie. I’ve had many plants shipped from abroad, and I’m pleased with how they’re growing. In a few years, it’s going to be even more beautiful.”
“Ready to go, champ?” Masen asked Eli.
“Going already? But what about the cookies?” Mom asked and looked at me. “Meli, did you offer Eli the strawberry cookies I made yesterday?”
“I forgot. Do you want some cookies?” I asked him.
“Yes. I just love strawberries.” Eli nodded excitedly.
Masen scowled at me. “I told you not to give him sweets or snacks unless they’re his organic snacks,” he hissed at me before he threw a charming smile at my mom. “Eli can’t have any processed sugar. He has a slow metabolism, so he’s at a higher risk of diabetes and heart disease.”
“I see,” Mom said. “That’s too bad.”
“Oh, come on, it’s not like a cookie or two would give him diabetes,” I said. “Besides, I’d bet he hasn’t eaten any sweets in eons!”
“I wanna try these cookies, Mace,” Eli said. “Please. Just this one time, okay?”
Masen’s brows scrunched together. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I think it would be okay if he takes just a cookie or two,” Mom said diplomatically. “You can also have some.”
“Thank you, but I don’t eat cookies.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
I wrinkled my nose. “You don’t eat cookies? What are you? An alien? Who on Earth doesn’t eat cookies?”
He didn’t say anything, but his face hardened as he glared at me, a vein bulging along his jaw.
“Come on, Eli,” Mom said, unaware of the sudden tension between me and Masen. “Let’s go to the kitchen and get you some cookies.”
“Sure.” Eli followed her out of the greenhouse. He turned his wheelchair to look at us. “Are you coming?”
“In a minute,” Masen said, his unblinking glare fixed on me.
Eli divided an uncertain look between me and Masen, and I gave him a thumbs-up, silently encouraging him to go. The moment they were out of sight, Masen took a step closer to me.
I raised my chin high, placing my hands on my hips. “What?”
“Why do you have to contradict everything I say?” His gaze grew dark with anger.
I began tapping my foot against the ground. “Because you’re keeping him on too tight a leash. He’s a quadriplegic, but he’s not made of glass.”
“You have no idea what his condition is like. You think you know everything about him now that you’re becoming best buddies? You’re wrong. He’s not your regular teenager.”
Unable to stay in one spot, I moved deeper into the greenhouse and stopped next to a table bearing some of Mom’s potted plants. “He looks pretty regular to me. Stop exaggerating and let him live a little.”
He followed after me, his lips curled into a derisive line. “That’s rich coming from you. Did you ever consider listening to your own advice every time you tried to control Steven’s life?”
I glared at him. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I don’t? Do you know how many times Steven complained to me about you? He said you were suffocating him. You never tried to understand him. You tried to control him, just like your mom did.”
Pain sliced through me deeply at yet another reminder of my mistakes. I started shaking.
“Yes, I did try to control him.” My voice was hoarse. “I tried to map out the perfect life for him and make sure he followed my plan to the letter. And I did all of that only because I wanted the best for him, just like you with Eli, but I paid the price. I lost him because I didn’t understand him or trust him. You do all you can to keep Eli happy, but it’s your version of his happiness. Have you ever thought that maybe Eli just wants the freedom to be himself?”
His face grew red with rage. “He can’t be himself. He’s stuck to a wheelchair!”
I dug my nails into my palms. “You piece of shit. Do you even hear yourself? He may be paralyzed, but he’s not dead! His life is far from over. Did you even know he wants to race cars? Did you ever consider that he doesn’t have
to be bound to living a crappy life? You’re even hiding him from everyone! No one in school knows about him. Why? Are you ashamed of him?”
A glint of danger appeared in his eyes. “Enough.”
Anger coiled low in my stomach before it burst through me in blazing flames. “So, you are. You’re ashamed of your own brother—”
“I said, enough!” He took a threatening step toward me, and I automatically stepped back, but I lost my footing and collided with the table behind me. One of the potted plants tipped over the edge and crashed loudly to the ground.
“I can’t stand you,” he shouted. “I can’t stand how judgmental you are! I can’t stand how you manage to find something negative in every single thing. You’re so full of shit I seriously think you can’t live without it. Someone fucked you up, and now you’re fucking up the rest of us!”
I. HATE. HIM.
I slammed my palms against the edge of the table. “No! You’re the only one I’m fucking up! Deliberately. Day after day. Because you’re a narcissistic, rotten bully. Because I want to vomit every time I see you. Because I’ve never hated anyone as much as I hate you!”
Something fiery flashed in his eyes, and he got in my face. “You hate me? Well, guess what? I hate you, too! I despise you. I wish I’ve never met you!”
I flinched and drew back against the table. His words cut me deeper than they ever should have, and I wanted to bend over with pain. I put a mask on my face not to show my hurt as we stared at each other in agonizing silence, but on the inside, I was in the middle of a storm . . . and I didn’t know why or the way out.
His words twirled like a tornado in my mind, cutting me more and more, until all anger left me, leaving just desolation.
Each fight. Each word that was meant to hurt. Each gaze filled with hate.
It seemed never-ending.
Suddenly, I was tired.
My hands fisted, and he narrowed his eyes at them. “What? You want to hit me?” he asked. “That’s your solution for everything? Violence?”
“No, I want you to leave.”
I relaxed my hands and turned my back on him. I was so tired. I was tired of always fighting. Fighting, fighting, fighting. Ever since that night in the woods. I was tired of staying strong and proving to everyone that they couldn’t walk all over me. I just wanted . . . I just wanted my stupid brain to shut up for once and let me live without all the stress and tension I felt every waking moment.
I crouched down to pick up the shards of the pot, looking at the flower bud with remorse. It was one of Mom’s favorite flowers, but maybe she would be able to fix it.
I could feel him watching me as I worked quietly, and I glanced at him over my shoulder. Regret was etched deep into his face, but he hid it the moment I looked at him, schooling his features into a blank mask.
My heart gave a jerk. That was so me. Living with masks and hiding my true self.
I didn’t need another reason to feel connected to him.
He was the first to break our stare. He turned and left, and I dropped the pieces of the pot onto the ground.
A drop of blood had pooled on my fingertip. I’d cut myself, and it hadn’t even hurt. If only it would hurt. If only that outside pain hurt more than what I felt on the inside. If only I didn’t feel as though I was spiraling down rapidly, losing myself more all the time.
If only Steven hadn’t died.
I smeared the blood over my finger with my thumb, watching it color my skin, tears in my eyes I would never let out. Steven’s image in my mind coexisted with a pulsating ache in my chest.
“I hope you’re having fun wherever you are, punk,” I whispered. “I hope you’re having much more fun than me.”
The rain decided it would be a good time for it to fall like crazy on Friday. That didn’t stop me from going to Steven’s grave before my part-time job, armed with my Doctor Strange umbrella. I trudged through the mud and puddles, shivering as gusts of wind struck me from all directions. My hair stubbornly refused to stay tucked behind my ears and instead kept falling into my eyes.
“This must be all your doing,” I said when I stopped beside his grave. “You want me to catch pneumonia and die, so you can annoy the hell out of me wherever you are.”
I took a bag of Skittles out of my back pocket and balanced the umbrella awkwardly as I opened the package.
“Look what I brought. It’s your favorite.” I popped a few Skittles into my mouth, thinking how he’d loved to toss them in the air so he could try to catch them in his mouth. He’d made a spectacle out of himself quite a few times, failing to catch them. We’d often competed because I wanted to show him how it was done.
“I always won.” My lips curled up in one of the first real smiles I’d felt since he’d died. “Okay, not always, but like ninety-nine percent of the time. And you were always such a sore loser.” I chuckled, but that chuckle faded away quickly.
The wind howled loudly, sending droplets of rain all over my legs, and I shivered as the icy cold seeped through my clothes into skin and then even further within. It merged with the cold I always carried inside me.
“I know what you’re probably thinking. You think I’m a pathetic fool for acting like a whiny baby. And you’re right. You were right about everything.” I cast a pointed gaze at his grave. “I’m sure you’re wearing that smug expression on your face now, so you can wipe that off immediately. I won’t be admitting to anything again if you’re going to look at me like that.”
My chest caved in. I would give anything to see that smug expression on his face again. Anything.
“Wanna hear a confession? I bet you’d piss your pants with excitement.”
The veil of rain gave the trees in the distance a distorted image. I wiggled my cold toes in my shoes to warm them.
“I said some really ugly things to Barbie two days ago, and for the first time, I don’t feel good about it at all. It’s like just by saying them I’m fueling my hate, but I’m so frustrated with him. It’s so easy for him to piss me off, and it’s like I want to get through that thick skull of his and . . . I don’t know. I don’t even know why I’m wasting so much energy on him.”
I tossed more Skittles into my mouth, thinking about the pain his words had caused me.
“I hate you, too! I despise you. I wish I’ve never met you!”
My chest throbbed. I closed my eyes and inhaled a long breath. I shouldn’t even care. His words shouldn’t mean a damn thing.
My chuckle was raspy. “Come on, play shrink and tell me why I’m acting so weird.” I frowned as my eyes flew open. “Just don’t tell me I’m acting this way because I want his attention, or that I like him. That’s bullshit, and I refuse to believe something so ridiculous. This is not one of the soap operas you used to watch secretly as a kid.”
My stomach hollowed out, and I gripped the package in my hand as a few drops of rain hit my face.
“Like, sure, he’s attractive. I can’t deny that. I’m not blind. And he’s such a good brother to Eli that it’s like . . . brother goals.” I bit the corner of my lip. “Except that I still don’t know if he’s really ashamed of Eli or not. But that, somehow, doesn’t make any sense, seeing how much he loves him. It’s obvious that he gives most, if not all, of his money for Eli’s care and is trying to support his family, so I can’t really say he’s spoiled or selfish.”
Another rush of sweetness coated my tongue as I popped more Skittles into my mouth.
“And I feel sorry when I think about his scars. I wish he hadn’t had to experience that pain and fear, and somehow . . . I don’t know. It’s like they make him human. Like he’s not so—not so different than me.” I chuckled. “What a shocker, right?” My chuckle ebbed into a heavy sigh.
“And sometimes when I’m next to him, I feel this warm, giddy feeling I don’t ever remember feeling before. But it’s unthinkable that the way I feel about him has changed even one percent. I don’t have enough fingers to count how many flaws he has. He’s a bu
lly, and I don’t care if he is frustrated by his family situation, or if he has some dark secret that makes him the way he is. It’s unjustifiable, and I don’t want to ever be associated with him.”
But you bullied him, too, a voice in my head said. You’re not so innocent yourself.
The wind blew the heavy rain sideways, soaking my clothes. I cursed. My umbrella might as well be non-existent at this point.
My lips formed a shaky smile. “If this is your way of telling me I’m a bitch, my answer is this.” I flipped the sky my middle finger.
It was true, though. I was a major bitch.
Masen wasn’t the only one whose Instagram account should be named “major_douchebag.”
“I miss you,” I whispered, closing my eyes. “I’m sorry for everything. I’m so sorry.” Tears threatened to spill out, but I refused to let them. “I’m not going to be a crybaby. I can’t let you have another reason to tease me, now can I?”
But one tear slipped out and slid down my cheek, joining the droplets of rain that would eventually stop.
If only my pain and regret would stop, too.
Thoughts clogged my mind as I navigated through the rainy streets on my way to the Raymond Retirement Home, but my ringtone broke through those thoughts. I did a double take at my phone in the cup holder, surprised to see it was Dad calling. It was so rare for him to actually make an effort and call me, so I didn’t know what to make of this.
I put him on speakerphone. “Hi, Dad.”
“Hey, honey. How are you?”
I passed a car. “I’m great. I’m in the middle of an epic war against the rain. Wanna join?”
He chuckled. “Not today. I’m having my own war against paperwork. I just wanted to see how you’re holding up.”
“This is strange. You used to be too busy to even talk to me. I think I’ve talked more with your assistant than with you these last few months. We’ve talked so many times I even know her favorite shoe brands!”
He sighed. “Honey, I’m trying. I made mistakes, but I’m trying to right my wrongs.”