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Emily sighed. “I’m not leverage.”
“You could be,” said her mother. “I’m not having you come home looking like Tyler.”
Emily peeked through her bangs across the table at her brother. He wasn’t eating, either—his fingers were too busy flying across the face of his phone, his own mode of ignoring their parents. He was two years younger, but already stood about four inches taller than she did. He’d spent freshman year growing into his features, and now, for the first time, he looked older. The bruising on his cheek had turned yellow and purple, sharp and striking against his pale skin and white-blond hair. She studied the injury, remembering Michael’s sarcasm from the batting cage.
Poor Tyler. I’m sure you got the whole story.
“Take a picture,” Tyler muttered without looking up. “It’ll last longer.”
“Original.” Along with the height, he’d grown into a crappy attitude, too. “Who are you texting?”
“None of your business.”
She didn’t really care, but it was easier to bicker with Tyler than to fight with her parents. “Sounds like a girl.”
He shot her a glare over the phone. “Well, you sound like a—”
“Tyler.” Their mother’s voice sliced through his coming insult. “No electronics during dinner.”
He made a disgusted sound and put the phone in his lap.
But Emily knew he’d be back at it as soon as their folks were distracted again.
“What did he say to you?” said her father.
“Nothing.” She pushed the food around her plate again. She hadn’t mentioned her own actions with the putter—and didn’t plan on telling them now. “He just came in to use the batting cages. It was fine.”
“Convenient,” snapped her father. “Your first day of work, you’re alone, he comes in there—”
“He said he goes there all the time!”
Her parents went still. It was the wrong thing to say.
“I don’t want you going back there,” said her mother, her voice hushed.
“It’s fine—”
“The hell it is,” said her father. “I’ve been talking to Josh Drake. He thinks we should just take care of the problem ourselves.”
Tyler rolled his eyes. “Seth’s dad says that every time he cracks open a beer.”
Though he was a few years younger, Seth Drake was Tyler’s best friend. He was an Earth Elemental like his dad—and like Michael Merrick—but the Drake abilities stopped at pulling strength from the ground they stood on. Emily had no idea where Michael’s abilities stopped.
And that was part of the problem.
“I think we might all be overreacting,” said Emily. “He didn’t start anything—”
“Overreacting?” Tyler threw his fork down against his plate.
“You saw what that ass**le did to me.”
“Tyler!” said their mother. “I won’t have that language at the table.”
Emily stared at him. “And what exactly happened again?”
He stared back at her for a beat. “I told you,” he said evenly. “He jumped me and Seth.”
“That’s it,” said her father. “I’m calling over there.”
