Jesus, no. My mind flashed to what I’d heard with her and my dad—how they both sounded like they were killing each other. God, the things my father said…
Growing up, I remembered them fighting, but I’d been gone a long time, it seemed.
“Are…are you okay?” I asked hesitantly as she moved about my room, probably making my bed, because she still thought I needed help. “Last night, I mean. I thought I heard—”
“Oh, did Ari get the village for you?” She cut me off. “That was nice of her. See, she does love you.
”
She pinched my chin, teasing me, and I jerked a little, not in the mood.
“Get dressed,” she told me. “We have brunch in an hour.”
She left the room as quickly as she’d come in, and I gathered she didn’t want to know how much I’d heard last night.
But she didn’t seem to know I was in the closet, at least. Thank goodness for that.
And Ari was acting completely normal. For Ari anyway.
Neither of them were responsible for the Christmas village in my room, either.
“What the hell?” I thought out loud, knitting my brow. “What the hell was that last night?”
Was it just some elaborate prank? Why would he threaten and scare me the way he did and then…and then shield me when my parents started fighting? He protected me and put me to bed and somehow knew I wanted the Christmas village that my sister wouldn’t get for me.
I knew I should tell my parents about what happened, but...
I don’t know. It could’ve been just a prank, right?
If I told them, it could get me sent back to Montreal where I was “safer and in my own element” like my father wanted. I really didn’t want to bring any drama to his attention, because I’d be the one to get punished.
No. The boy didn’t hurt me. Not yet, anyway.
In fact, he was kind of an angel at the end. An angel with really black batwings.
Psycho.
Damon
Present
“So this is Women, Gender, and Sexuality in Japan,” I said, walking into Banks’ classroom. “Part One.”
I added the last part sarcastically, unsure as to why this class needed to exist in the first place, much less needed more than one part to it.
My sister turned her head, locking eyes on me over her shoulder. Slowly, she dropped her pen and twisted in her seat, a cautious but faint smile on her lips at seeing me. The ‘I love him, but should I be worried he’s here?’ variety.
“Your course list is like a plate filled with every single food I refused to eat as a kid,” I told her.
“I like my course list.”
And then she broke into a full smile, and my heart skipped a beat. It was the same smile she gave me when we would do all the childish shit my friends were too cool to do with me in high school.
Sneaking into movies without paying.
Playing tag in the rain in the maze.
Midnight drives way over the speed limit on a school night, because we just needed to get out of the house.