to endure the ramblings of an 1850’s puritan on a soapbox, but I’d have been done already if I didn’t keep getting interrupted.
First, it was Emma. Granted, I’m the furthest thing from pissed off about her asking me to sit with her while she swims. She loves the water, and there’s honestly nothing that makes me happier than watching her splash around. She’s not allowed to go anywhere near the pool without adult supervision, and even then, she’s not allowed out of the shallow end, but damn that little girl loves to splash around in her neon-green water wings. Sometimes, when I know Dad won’t catch us, I jump in with her and take her to the deep end, keeping a hand on her round belly so she can swim like a grown-up.
Emma’s swimming lesson added an hour to my study time. When I got back to my room, Candy had decided to start throwing up again. I don’t know how it’s possible, but I could hear her through the fucking walls as she retched out her stomach lining.
Thank God for earphones.
Finally, Candy went back to sleep, and I could study in peace.
Until about five minutes ago, when someone started ringing the doorbell like a zealot with a quota to fill.
Ding—
“For fuck’s sake!” I rip open the door.
Marissa Hawthorn’s mouth goes wide, and her raised hand drops to her side. “Hi,” she breathes.
You’d swear I was smiling at her, not scowling. “What?” I snap.
Not even this deters her. She messes with her hair, and then starts adjusting her clothing as if she wishes she wore something more scandalous today. “I…uh…it’s good to see you, Josiah.”
I show her my teeth. There’s no way she could possibly mistake it for a smile, but she grins anyway.
“Can I help you?”
“Oh, yeah, uh…Is Candace home?”
“She’s sick.” Hopefully, that information will end this torturous exchange sooner rather than later.
“Oh, yeah, actually…” Marissa twists around and starts digging in her backpack.
I drum my fingers on the lintel.
Marissa doesn’t seem to notice. A moment later, she flourishes a thin stack of lined paper. “Thought she’d need some notes from Science class.” Her grin shows more teeth than a shark’s. “Can I come—”
“Thanks,” I say, snatching the papers from her and slamming the door in her face.
Candy isn’t friends with Marissa. She isn’t friends with anyone. For some reason, bubbly and affectionate little Candy Cane seems incapable of making friends at school. I’d feel sorry for her, if I gave a shit.
But I don’t.
“Asshole,” comes Marissa’s muffled voice from the other side of the door.
I smile to myself. You’d think they’d know to avoid me by now, but still, they come. I’m about to toss the stack of papers on the entrance table when something bright pink catches my eye.
!! 4 TEST !!
Fuck, there’s legit a ton of notes on these papers, and quite a lot of it’s been highlighted for the test. I’d get into a world of shit if Candy didn’t get this. After all, it’s not as if she’s actually sick. She’s detoxing from a weekend spent binging.
How can no one else notice? Especially Dad. I mean, how the fuck does she even play chess if she’s already slurring before they head to the study?
Because they don’t play chess, do they?
I push away the thought. It’s been coming back more and more lately, hanging there, all insidious like. I don’t let it bait me into spending a second longer wasting energy on Candy or my dad.
They can both go to hell.
Except, unfortunately, Dad can make my life hell. Somewhere along the line, he decided that I was Candy’s guardian. I have to take her to school; I have to bring her back. When she sneaks out of the house, I make sure she gets home okay.
When a bunch of guys drug her and do God knows what to her, I make sure no one finds out. It should be because I’m a real dapper guy…but really, it’s just so that I don’t have to suffer the consequences.
I ram open her door without knocking. She’s got her back to me, lying on her bed like she’s sleeping. Her room smells stale, and there’s an underlying hint of booze—the kind where it seeps out through your pores when your liver’s done being the body’s sponge.
“What did you tell them this time?” I ask, tossing down her notes on her bedside table and immediately going over to the window.
She groans when I yank open the curtains, and pulls