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Manasseh can't stand anyone touching his stuff, but somehow his slimy hands always end up where they don't belong.
The same goes for our childhood friend and neighbor, Rebecca. She's not mine, but I won't let my brother get his hands on her. I made the choice to admire her from afar, and that's where it should have stayed. We had an unspoken agreement, the three of us.
Uriel, on the other hand, is driven by money. It's never enough for this guy, no matter how much you give him. He acts like some kind of sponsor among his friends, or fancies himself a banker, always offering to foot the bill. He's forgotten when things were tough, but I'll never forget.
“He’s been good. Buried in his books all day, as you know,” Anabella gets up from the table and joins us, making sure not to miss out on anything.
This woman suffocates me. It's like she's more interested in my life than in her own sons'. Of course, in the negative sense of the word, because I’m like a bitter pill they can’t swallow.
She’s wearing a satin dress and perfect-styled hair. She wears just a hint of makeup; no need for embellishments, because she's got that classic blonde beauty, the kind that screams she's grown up in the urban luxury, not in the countryside.
I can't stand her, but I can't deny she's easy on the eyes.
On her wrists, a dainty Pandora bracelet snugly clasps a star-shaped charm, and her hair, styled in effortless waves, carries the scent of blooming flowers. She had meticulously primped herself all day for my father's return because, let's face it, appearance is her most precious asset and all she has to offer, or at least that's what I'd like to think. Anabella can be wicked if she's got an agenda, so I prefer to play it cool with her, keeping our interactions at arm's length and avoiding any unnecessary drama.
I choose the path of silence, as always.
“And you're just gonna stand there like a lifeless statue? Aren't you gonna give your dad a hug?” Dan spreads his arms wide, and Anabella nudges me gently from behind.
“Welcome back,” I mutter, allowing myself to be engulfed in his embrace, while catching a glimpse of Manasseh's piercing gaze over Dan's shoulder. He's seated at the table, engrossed in his phone, but now he's fully tuned in to the scene.
His slate-gray eyes usually betray nothing, but right now, I can sense the envy lurking within. What a fool! If only he knew there's no reason for him to be envious, and if anything, it should be me. For him, it's always a competition between us, but honestly, I'm just too exhausted to play along. I hardly pay him any mind.
He has no idea about who the real outcast in this house is.
I am the black ship, and it's common knowledge.
I don't identify with the people I live with.
I don't fit into their cookie-cutter world.
I feel like my place is only among books. They provide the tranquility I crave and keep my mind occupied.
When you're left out, all you can do is observe. The mind of an observer can be a dark and haunted place. But books transform this chilly void into the escape I crave. They make me feel alive.
“My son with a heart of stone!” My dad lightly taps my shoulder. “Could've given me a call or at least dropped a text.”
“I’m sorry. Been caught up with studying, but next time, I'll hit call you,” I lie, just wanting to shut down the convo.
“You always say that.”
“We're here too, you know?” Masse grumbles from the table, and Dan's eyes widen.
“I'm dying to know how you ended up in a cast, but I bet it was your fault,” Dad clinks glasses with Uriel and pats Masse's banged-up shoulder.
“Ow!” he blurts out and slams his phone down.
“He fell off the roof with Becca,” Uriel raises an eyebrow, nudging Manasseh, but I walk past and purposely knock his chair.
Manasseh shoots me a hostile look and silently tracks my movements as I take a seat. But there's something brewing inside him, something that freaks me out.
He's definitely hiding something about Rebecca.
I need to know!
“The preacher's girl?” Dan sits down at the table.
“Who else?” Masse grumbles, annoyed by Dan's nosy questions, yet I sense a touch of pride in his attitude.
