But I can’t quite make it there.
Whether or not I find any sleep in the cracks before sunrise is anyone’s guess. All I know is that I’m too tired to stand come morning, so I cover my face with a pillow and scrape as much rest as I can out of the dawn.
?
Clara is my favorite sister.
Standing at the fridge around two in the afternoon with Ender circling my legs, I stare at the sandwich she’s made and wrapped up for me. Whenever I don’t come out for breakfast, she makes me a sandwich, marks itFor Kyran, and leaves it in the fridge.
Maelin is sweet. Crisis and Crimson would destroy anyone who wrongs their little brothers. But Clara is where it’s at.
Retrieving my sandwich—a turkey and cheese today—I settle in on the floor, dodge Ender’s attempt to steal the turkey off my bread, and obtain the notepad I’ve started keeping hidden in the lower cabinet beside me.
Battling my feral cat off with my foot to its forehead, I scribble my gratitude for the food, doodling a happy tearful puppy alongside the words.
The picture isterrible, because I was not the brother abused into cultivating artistic prowess, but I think it at least looks like a dog…or an animal. Of some kind. “Maybe a cat,” I mutter, a bit spitefully.
Ender is unbothered by my slight.
Continuing to ward off the beast, I slip the note into the fridge where my sandwich was, then I pull my legs up against my chest for protection, curl up in the corner of cabinets by the fridge, and settle in to eat on the floor.
At some point amid the battle for turkey, Ender perks—signaling the approach of someone—and darts, leaving me in peace for my love to find me.
Morana’s step hitches when she sees me munching away, then she rolls her eyes to the ceiling and marches toward the sink in front of me. Bending there, she opens the cabinets and retrieves some trash bags.
I enjoy the scrumptious view while I munch away on my turkey and cheese.
“Brothers don’t ogle their sister’s backsides, Kyran.”
I swallow. “Wild. Almost like I’m not your brother then, isn’t it, mistress?”
She turns, shaking out a plastic bag and looking like she’d be more than willing to suffocate me with it. “I’d appreciate it if you’d stop addressing me like I’m a dominatrix.”
“I’d appreciate it if you’d start acting more like one.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“Depraved, too.” Also, tired. And have a stream tonight, I’m pretty sure. Even though I am less sure what day it is. “Insult me more, please. Humiliation is my favorite flirting game.”
“I will not encourage this.” Wittle nosescrunch. “As a good sister, it’s my job to sign you up for therapy.”
“That is also something a good lover would do.” I finish one half of my sandwich. “I think the problem is you’re not annoying enough to be a sister.”
“I can be plenty annoying. Iamplenty annoying. I nag you constantly.”
“Like a wife.”
Her face tinges red. “No.”
“Yes. You nag me to pick up after myself and help you around the house. Like a wife. A sister is more likely to barge into my room, mess with my stuff, then leave the door open when she’s done.” A horrible idea hits me, and I add, “Asisterlives in the same house with her brothers. You come and go. Because you’re the maid, whom I am in love with, not my sister at all.”
“Grown sisters can live elsewhere, Kyran. That’s not a very stable argument.” Her arms cross, tucking her trash bag in the crook of her elbow.
First, are any of my arguments particularly stable? Second, why does she have to be so cute?
Obliging, I provide her with some trulystable stuff. “I’m just saying it’s really hard to think of you as a sister if I’ve never seen you in pajamas and you’ve never come into my room after dark purely to turn off my light then leave. If you’ve never broken any of my toys or stolen any of my clothes, how will I know we’re related?”
Her eyes narrow, slivers of green glass. “I don’t think sisters take their brother’s clothes.”
