“I don’t choke the sausage every morning.” I air quote my middle words. “I gently stroke it, too.”
Joey smacks me up the side of the head with a pillow. For a teen whose fitness has faded to half of what it once was, he packs a lot of oomph in his hit. “You know you have issues when you can’t even be aggressive while stroking one out. Newsflash, BJ, you’re supposed to be pissed you’re being forced to use your hand, not pleased.”
I smile before lifting my chin, never a fan of arguing the truth.
“Once I’m out of this hellhole, you can be assured as fuck I won’t be getting friendly with magazine cutouts. There will be pussy galore at the parties I’ll host.” He adjusts his position as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down. “Consented pussy, of course.”
“You heard that last night?” I nudge my head to his partially open door, acting as if our parents and Madden are filling the narrow gap.
Joey follows the direction of my gaze. “The almost two-hour straight lecture? Yeah, I heard that.” He shifts his eyes back to me. They have a dash of mistrust in them. “What’s your take on the matter?”
“I don’t know, to be honest.” A halfhearted shrug highlights my confusion. “From what I gathered through the floorboards, Fable agreed with Madden’s recount of the event. But—”
“Some girls will say anything to be classed as one of the cool cats,” Joey interrupts, much too wise for his almost nineteen years.
Although he’s a little off the mark, I notch up my chin again. It isn’t just girls who’ll do anything to climb the popularity ladder. Boys are just as bad and don’t get me started on grown men who should know better.
My eyes snap to Joey when he says, “Talking about girls, what was your argument with Melody about yesterday afternoon?”
“It was nothing.” I slice my hand through the air like I didn’t spend half my night evaluating every word she spoke. “It was just a misunderstanding.”
“About you being jealous when you had no right to be jealous?” The morning sun bounces off his pearly white teeth when I snarl at him. “These walls are as thin as paper. How do you think I know about your daily shower routine?”
“‘Cause you’re a sicko who likes living precariously through your brothers?”
He physically gags. “If that were the case, I wouldn’t have unfollowed Phoenix on Twitter. His tweets have no filter whatsoever.”
I laugh, agreeing with him without words.
“Or…” he waits, building the suspense, “… shower antics aren’t the only clue Melody has been your sole source of stroke material the past year. You’ve been hot for that girl for years. Why do you think Madden always riles you up about her?”
“Because he’s an ass?”
“Or…” He pauses again. This time, it’s twice the length of his last suspense-builder. “He’s forcing you to face the truth before it’s too late. You’ll be leaving for college in a few months. That will create a new set of problems for you two.”
My chest inflates with an unvoiced ha! “Madden isn’t that nice. He doesn’t care about anyone but himself.”
Joey twists his lips that are a little bluer today than usual. “Normally, I’d agree with you, but he had some valid points yesterday.” I’m about to rib him about becoming an old lady whose only joy in life is gossiping about other people, but he continues talking, stopping me. “Is it true? Did Melody squeeze your hand when she asked you to have milkshakes with her?” When I nod, he hits me with his pillow for the second time, causing a small bout of breathlessness to chop up his words. “You’re an idiot, pipsqueak! That’s a clear will-you-go-out-with-me sign for anyone between the age of twelve and forty-three.”
“It is not,” I scoff loudly.
His lips twitch as he prepares his rebuttal, but before he can, our mother joins the conversation, silencing us both. “It’s true, BJ. It has been that way for centuries.”
Her response piques my interest, but I’m more interested in discovering how long she’s been standing outside of Joey’s bedroom door. Did she just arrive? Or has she been listening in the entire time? If her red cheeks are anything to go by, I’d say the latter is more plausible.
With Joey not as shy as me, he interrogates our mom like he’s destined to be a detective. “Did you hear all of our conversation or just the last half?”
“Umm…” She places a tray of breakfast onto Joey’s bedside table before spinning around to face us. I swear my cheeks combust when she mumbles, “You’ve certainly reminded me of the importance of washing the linen every day.”
“Mom…” I bury my head into my hands, too embarrassed to look up. “It’s not true. I don’t… masturbate in the shower.” I stop just before I say, ‘every day,’ saving me some additional torture.
She rubs my arm all motherly like. “Brandon. Honey. It’s fine. It’s perfectly normal.”
I don’t know what’s more concerning: my mother believing I have a fascination with stroking one out in the shower or her cradling me into her bosoms to comfort me. From the vomit creeping up my esophagus, I’m going to say it’s a combination of both.
“But I do think the situation could be alleviated a little if you took both Madden and Joey’s advice.” She drops her glistening eyes to mine. “You’ve admired Melody since she fumbled down her stairs with a mouth full of toothpaste and her big doe eyes out in full force.”
Although tempted to smack Joey’s smirk into the next century, I don’t refute our mother’s statement because every single word she spoke was true.
