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"I'll be the president of the group," I promised. "And when I'm number one, I'll make it a law to ban your nostalgic fans once and for all."
Sage laughed. "This is your chance, Pastel. This is the best one you'll get. A factory wipe. If you really deserve the number one spot, you better take it."
"Don't worry," I said with renewed energy. She was right. This was my shot, a chance to beat her on even playing field, to prove to her and to anyone who dared compare us that I could be better. "I will."
Chapter Six
Sage
A notification from my bank gave me no choice but to linger on my bike. I showed up early to work in hopes of getting a head start this morning. From the look of a recent transaction, I wouldn’t be doing any work until I got an explanation. My worrying mind wouldn’t allow me a single second of peace without knowing what was going on, and that was never good for the art.
My throat tightened as I clicked on my brother’s contact. The money could be for something as important as life-changing surgery, or it could be for something as silly as trying to start a virtual diner that only sold virtual coffees. I never knew what I was going to get with Ashton, and that reality nearly killed me regularly.
He didn’t pick up on the first ring, and I shot him a few threatening texts before calling him a second time. The phone picked up, but the voice on the other end wasn’t the one I needed to yell at.
“Why are you answering Ash’s phone?” I used my mouth to tug off my gloves and balanced my helmet on the motorcycle’s bars. The cold, early morning wind in my face was uncomfortable, but I couldn’t go into the building while fuming at my siblings.
“He forgot it,” TJ said around a yawn. “And you were blowing it up like a damn CO, so I figured it was important.”
My jaw clenched. An all-too-familiar cocktail of frustration, resentment, and exhaustion swirled in my stomach. I pinched the leather seat of my ride, trying to ground myself so I wouldn’t say something I regretted.
“Do you know why he’d need to withdraw three grand from our joint savings?” Happy thoughts, Sage. Maybe it’s not all that bad. Maybe your brother has finally matured with age.
“No…” TJ’s voice went low. I heard him scratching at the beard Mom begged him to get rid of every time she made eye contact with him.
I clicked my tongue against the back of my teeth. “Liar.”
He sighed, like I was the one being unreasonable.
“That money’s for emergencies, T.” Something our family was all too familiar with. “We’re supposed to clear it with each other when we withdraw.”
“You’re lecturing the wrong guy,” he grumbled.
“No, I’m not, because you’re supposed to stop him when I can’t. You clearly knew about this and still, the money’s gone.”
“Don't worry. He’s going to put it right back.”
I scoffed. “When?”
“Soon,” TJ drew out the word. “Stop micromanaging. It’s all our money.”
No, it was ninety-five percent mine. I’d come up with the emergency fund idea, I’d been the one to open the account, and I’d deposited the majority of the fifteen grand in there. I was currently the only one who continued making deposits each month.
I didn’t say any of that. I learned a long time ago those kinds of reminders were a waste of breath.
My family was terrible when it came to money. It didn’t bother me much when we were kids. My parents were pros at making a lot out of nothing, so I didn’t think twice about our sugar sandwiches and stints at extended-stay motels. At that age, everything could be an adventure. After I started earning money from publishing a few of my comics online, I realized just how steady income could make a difference.
Rock bottom came in the form of Dad not being able to hold down a job due to his excessive drinking. Mom couldn’t work much due to chronic pain from a car accident, and my brothers couldn’t figure out how to stay out of trouble long enough to help with bills.
After one summer with no AC and power, I decided I didn’t want us to wonder when the lights would be shut off again.
I threw myself into art, because that felt like my only way to get us out of the hole we perpetually found ourselves in. I’d been right, but I’d been so wrong in how I’d gone about it.
That’s the thing about money: once you have it, it’s best not to make it known, especially to those who desperately need it.
I never once had the urge to hide my money from my family. Whatever they needed, anytime they came to me, I was more than ready to click the transfer button. The problem was, what I saw as a finite source, they thought was a never-ending, all-you-can-eat buffet.
“Can you at least tell me if he’s in serious trouble?” I had to lower my voice when a few people walked by, heading toward Harpy’s entrance. Among the group was Noah. She wore a baby pink midi skirt that kissed the bottom of her knees. There were various-sized pink hearts on her white t-shirt, and she’d layered delicate pink heart necklaces to home in on the fact that she was probably the personification of the color and shape. Our gazes met for a split second, and she turned away first, pretending to be more interested in the cloudless sky. The wind picked up her scent, carrying it to me. My grip on the phone tightened.
