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TWELVE
Britney exits her room at the same time I step out of mine. She’s looking a lot thinner lately. Eyes sunken. Skin dull. It’s the second week of September, so the weather is still warm in Delaware, but Britney’s giving me snow white.
“What?” she prods, as I’m lingering in place staring at her.
I fix my bag on my shoulder. “Um, how’s ballet going? You look less than your normal self.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “A little advice, brother, never tell a girl she looks awful.”
“Geez.” I suck my teeth. “I wasn’t trying to be mean. I’m just worried about you.”
Britney stomps by, throwing over her shoulder, “I’m fine. Worry about Kayla.”
Anger mounts in a matter of seconds. “Stop! What do you mean? Did someone bully her?”
She stalls by the stairs and looks back at me, sighing. “Girls are gossiping about her.”
“What else?” I huff, sensing she’s hiding something.
Britney splays her hand and assures, “Nothing. Bitches are being shady as usual. Come on.”
“I’m picking up Kayla,” I inform her. “Want to ride with Eric?”
She casts me a sidelong glance. “Well. That’s quite a progress.” A smirk appears. “Sure, Brandon. I’ll give you privacy.” She continues down the stairs, texting Eric along the way.
I shrug it off and follow behind.
We join our parents for breakfast. Once again, Britney separates her portion to a smaller size.
I hold my tongue since my opinion doesn’t matter. Our parents don’t give a shit, anyway. Plus, Mom encourages it by picking my sister apart.
“I’m flying to New York this evening,” Dad announces. “I’ll be there for a few days.”
What else is new?
Mom sniffs and reaches for her coffee. “You’re taking more trips lately.”
“Well, business is growing, dear.” He cuts to me, flashing a partial smile. “It’ll be a lot to handle by the time you come on, Bran.”
My stomach twists into knots. “Dad, I don’t want to work in the company. We’ve talked about that.”
He splays his hand, then rises from the table. “You’re seventeen, son. You don’t know what you want.”
I hunch my shoulders, pissed at his blatant disregard.
Grabbing his bag from the empty chair, he kisses Mom and Britney on the cheek, nods to me, and heads into the garage.
Mom stares out the window, watching as Dad drives out the garage, leaving soon after. She looks almost sad.
Refocusing on us, she pastes on a smile and says, “You two get going.”
Britney straightens from the chair, appearing a bit dizzy as she takes her bag from the back.
Concern mounts in me.
“All right, sweetheart?” Mom asks her, seeming worried, too.
My twin shrugs it off and manages a smile. “I’m fine. Didn’t get enough sleep.”
