“That’s good,” I say approvingly. It’s much more interesting to hear about their hijinks than worry about all of my own shit.
Like how the guys had all been sosadat the wake.
How River hadn’t let me hug him.
They tell me some other stuff that’s been going on at home: Papa and Daddy had gone on a short trip together, leaving Mama and Uncle Slayer to hold down the fort, Ares still hasn’t said anything to his crush, and Anastasia Voronkov is, of course, not Kratos’s girlfriend.
Ares is in the middle of some story about the motorcycle Kratos is trying to rebuild when the door behind them opens and Mel walks in.
She doesn’t look like somebody who’d been terrorized. Her eyeliner and mascara are thick and un-smeared, and her dark purple lipstick matches the purple of her hair. The eyeshadow highlights her two mismatched eyes, one brown, one green. She’s wearing one of those complicated frilly dresses she likes, too.
Very goth chic, if highly impractical.
“Mama says food is ready,” Mel announces. She tenses when she notices me on the screen.
“Hey, Mel,” I say, waving. “How’s it going?”
“It’s fine,” she replies vaguely. “How’s Dyschord?”
Ares motions for Mel to approach. From how slowly she crosses the room I can tell she doesn’t want to, but she comes closer anyway. She sits down at the edge of the same chair Ares is using.
“Dyschord is great,” I say with a big smile. “I met a guy—well, three guys. Oh, you know River already. And also Blaze, and Asch. They’re from New Valence. I bet you’d like it there; they’ve got all the goth stuff in that town.”
Ares suppresses a laugh.
Mel doesn’t quite look scandalized, but she does look uncomfortable. She’s the one who’s always gotten picked on about our unconventional family, the one who doesn’t know how to push back. “Maybe,” she says. “What are they like?”
“Well, they’re total dicks.” My smile doesn’t leave my face, but I notice Mel tensing up. “Actually, you three got any ideas for not-too-deadly pranks? No, I’m not lighting their faces on fire.”
Ares gives me a disappointed look. “It’s a classic for a reason.”
“She’s not as good as us. She’s just scared to try it,” Kratos taunts me. “If you’re too chicken, there are always the other classics. Pig blood, sending their nudes to their parents.” His grin widens. “Cut off more body parts. Who needs pinkies, anyway?”
Mel, who had already looked like she wanted to flee, starts to get up.
Kratos taps her arm. “We’re kidding, Mel.”
We all know nobody’s kidding, but Mel lets Ares pull her back down onto the chair.
“Okay, for a less deadly prank, how about shaving their hair off?” Ares suggests. “Or convincing them to show up to a regular party in costume?”
Those both sound boring, and anyway, I don’t want to shave anyone’s hair. I like them with that hair. Blaze’s soft blond locks, Asch’s short brown hair, River’s black curls…
If I had to pick one, it would be Asch. That would regrow the fastest, and he’d have the bald look for only a few weeks at most.
Mel wraps her arms around herself. “Isn’t that just going to make them hate you?” She looks up, one green eye, one blue, staring directly at me. “I thought you liked them?”
I do.
I don’t.
They hurt me.
They need to hurt even more.
My hands curl into fists, and my chest gets that whole poked-with-a-million-needles sensation.
“You know that saying! If they can’t handle me at my worst—” I start.
