Love You Better (Better Love 1)

“What’s up, Bug? Those kids messing with you again?” I press.

Silence.

“Jacob. Answer me.”

“It’s n-nothing, Ivy. Th-they’re j-just assholes.”

“Jacob Lee Rivenbark, you do not curse,” I admonish, and I can hear him huff indignantly. “Tell me what’s going on. Are they taking your homework again?”

“N-no.”

“Are they calling you names?”

“N-no, Ivy.”

“Jacob,” I say more softly. “Tell me what’s happening. You can tell me.”

He sighs loudly, resigned to finally give me what I want.

“They t-took my P-P-P.E. clothes. P-pushed me around a little. Then t-told everyone in the g-gym that I pee my p-pants.” I hear him sniffle. Furious tears fill my eyes in response. I cannot stand the thought of him being so sad. He’s one of the most amazing people I know, and I don’t understand how these kids don’t see that. I would absorb every ounce of his pain if it meant he only ever felt happiness.

“I’ll take care of it.”

“No!” he shouts, making me jump. “No, Ivy. P-please don’t call the school again. It will j-j-just make things w-worse.”

“But I could—”

“—N-no, Bean. Please,” he pleads, and my heart cracks right in half. “Please don’t. It will be f-fine. I’m fine.”

I hesitate. It goes against all my instincts to agree, but I don’t want to add to his trouble. I won’t call the school this time, but I make a mental note to add this incident to my file. Just in case.

“Okay,” I relent. “Promise you’ll tell me if things get worse?”

“I promise.” His voice is strong, and I can almost picture him standing his ground, a determined set to his jaw and his brows furrowed seriously.

“Okay. I’m at the library now, so I’m going to have to let you go, Bug. But I’ll talk to you tomorrow and I’ll see you soon.”

“Thank you, Ivy.”

“For what, Bug?”

“Just for being my sister,” he says, and my eyes fill with tears again. “I love you big, big, Bean.”

“Bigger than the sun and moon and stars, Bug.”

I hang up with Jacob, enter the library, and head straight to the study carrell I reserved for this afternoon. I set out my computer, my LSAT prep books, and plug in my phone.

Then I take a deep breath and allow myself a few moments to feel sad, worried, helpless, lost—all the things that come with knowing my brother is hurting and I can’t fix it. I graze the surface of those emotions, acknowledge them, and then compress them into a tiny box and file that box away in my brain to be dealt with later.

If I think too much about it, I will lose myself in sobs, and I don’t have time to cry. Right now, I need to focus on what I can control, and that is my preparedness for the LSAT. Because I will ace this test.

Tonight, Jesse and I have found ourselves at the Sig Chi fraternity. They’re having a heroes and heroines theme party, so we dressed up like Danny and Post-Peer Pressure Sandy from Grease. We don’t usually go out on Thursdays, but I need a distraction from my phone call with Jacob earlier. Kelley and I have decided to drive home this weekend, so when J asked if I would hit up this party with him, since we won’t be going out tomorrow, I said yes.

Jesse is really feeling himself in his leather jacket and wayfarers, an unlit cigarette propped behind his ear. He’s got his dark, curly hair gelled into the traditional T-Bird style, and with his cuffed jeans and white shirt, he definitely passes for a Greaser. I’m surprised I fit my butt, thighs and hips into these leather pants, but I’m feeling myself tonight too.

“J, you’re looking spicy tonight,” I say playfully as we walk up the steps of the house. He bounces up and down on the balls of his feet, and even though he’s 6’3” and probably 200 pounds of solid muscle, he looks like an excited little boy on his birthday.

“I’m feeling spicy, V,” he says. Then he quirks his upper lip, splays his palms out at his sides and swivels his hips. “I’m a hunka hunka burnin’ love.”