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Winding her up was a favorite past-time of mine, but even I knew I’d gone too far when she turned an alarming shade of purple and screamed like some chick in a horror movie.
My brothers stared at me from halfway up the staircase, their eyes round with fear.
I didn’t look at my father. There was nothing to see there. My shoulders slumped. “Keep your panties on. I’ll pack my things.”
Shaking with rage, she wagged her finger in my face. “You’ll take nothing! Nothing, you hear?”
“Fuck that,” I replied, pushing past her. There were things in my room I would not part with. The picture of my mother being one of them.
My dad’s voice rumbled, low and frantic, while she continued tabulating my sins and shortcomings.
I squeezed past my younger brothers as their eyes narrowed angrily on my face. They’d chosen their side.
Where was I going to go?
I didn’t have close friends. And the parents of the few friends I had were not my biggest fans.
Opening my closet, I grabbed my old gym bag and began stuffing my clothes inside.
“Ares?”
I closed my eyes before turning to face my little sister. I offered her a reassuring smile. “Hey, Viola.”
She shifted from one foot to the other in my doorway.
I offered her a reassuring smile. “Come on in.”
Wasting no time, she rushed inside and perched on the edge of my bed. “I don’t want you to go.”
I gave her a half-smile as I jerked my head toward the door. The sound of her mother’s ranting interspersed with our father’s deeper, softer voice echoed up the hall. “It’ll be more peaceful around here.” She opened her mouth to protest but I cupped her little chin to cut her off.
At only six years old, she didn’t need to carry this burden. “It’s time, flower. I’m all grown up, and it’s time.”
Her brows lowered over her eyes suspiciously. “You’re not that grown up.”
I laughed. She never failed to call me on my bullshit. “You’re right. I’m not. But this is for the best. You’ll see.” I jerked my chin toward the door. “Go to bed. You don’t need to see any more fighting. I don’t want you to.”
Without another word, she ran from my room. Watching her leave hit me in the chest like a donkey kick but I couldn’t spare the time to think about it. The faster I got out of there, the faster the yelling would stop.
I pulled the photograph of my mother out of my drawer along with my stash of weed and packed those as well. The only other thing left in that drawer was a well-loved copy ofThe Outsidersmy dad bought for me.
On that day we were tasked with going to the grocery store. On the way, he stopped at the bookstore. “Let’s go see if they have that book you’ve been wanting.”
I sat in the car. Unmoving. My eyes darted back and forth while I struggled to make sense of the miraculous turn of events.
“You want to get that book, son?” My father’s voice was gruff.
“Yeah. Yeah, dad,” I choked out.
Swiftly, he got out of the car.
I hurried to catch up, his legs much longer than mine. My mind spun with the wonder of it all. I began a mental list of all the things I wanted to tell him. The girl I liked at school. The kid who constantly made fun of me.
Called me black sheep. My dark a blight in my family full of blonds.
There was a movie I was dying to see at the theatre. Maybe we could go that weekend!
At the cash, he added a bunch of Lindor chocolates, the kind they kept at the counter to tempt people. “Don’t tell your brothers. These are just for you.”
