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I scowl. “Why not? It’s none of their business.”
“Yeah, well, some people just can’t seem to mind it, can they?” Her gaze drifts past me as she says this, growing distant.
“You…you think Dad would not be okay with this?”
Her eyes refocus on mine, and I don’t miss the worry tightening them at the corner. Her mouth thins and she shakes her head. “I doubt it.”
“What if…what if he comes back?”
Mom flashes a smile that doesn’t meet her eyes. “I’ll handle it.”
Jaw tight, I nod.
She arches a knowing brow. “I will handle it, Mason.”
I roll my eyes, and tell her, “Fine. Whatever.”
She ruffles my hair, and pushes up from her chair. “Now go check on your sister. I’m gonna start dinner.”
Mom moves toward the fridge, and I sit here, frozen, struck silent by her words.
Sister, I mouth slowly.
My gaze snaps up, and I find Mom looking over her shoulder. She winks, and I find myself grinning.
Upstairs, Squirt’s exactly where Mom said she’d be—in her room, an old storage room we cleaned out and made all hers. Looking around, I find myself smiling at not only the mess, but at the randomness of it all.
Where my room at her age was all superhero stuff—Avengers in particular—Squirt’s got a little bit of everything: a Finding Nemo comforter set, space-themed curtains we found at the dollar store. Stuffies, some of my old action figures, Hot Wheels, and green army men. There are Barbies too…
And dolls.
I don’t remember Squirt getting those, making me think Mom bought them in the last year or so.
Did she hide them from me like I hid my action figures from Dad?
I frown at the thought.
No more.
No more hiding.
There are other little things I didn’t really notice or think too much on until now, like the clips. A pink blanket balled up in the corner. A baton with frilly, sparkly pink ribbon laying on the floor by her dresser.
Pink’s always been Squirt’s favorite color, and I just figured, Why the heck not? It’s just a color.
“Crush!”
A tornado of limbs and wild blond hair launch themselves at me.
“Did she tell you, did she tell you?” h–she rushes out in a single breath, gray-blue eyes wider than I think I’ve ever seen them.
She. She. Of course she’s a she.
Staring into Squirt’s eyes, I don’t know how I didn’t see it sooner. This is my little sister.
I nod, smiling. “She did.”
Squirt bites her lip, and I lift her up, swing her around in a hug. “You’re still my Squirt.”
