Elsie shrieks when Zac hits her and he howls when Elsie bites him in return. With a groan, I pick up the holy terror closer to me and sit Elsie on the island, then pull over a chair with my foot and deposit Zac into that. “Neither of you move for two minutes.”
They scramble to the floor and run to the living room, calling me “mean.” I should pursue them, but I’m exhausted, and in the end I don’t care enough to discipline them again.
I am never having children. Ever.
Addison surveys the swinging door through which they disappeared like she’s solving a math problem. “You know, they portray large families completely differently on TV.”
I snort. “And how would that be? Sane?”
A laugh confirms that’s exactly what she thought. “There’s a hundred of those reality shows where they have five million children and they all seem happy 24/7. If they can be close and lovey-dovey, why can’t you?”
“You should try sleeping instead of watching television late at night. It could help with your overactive and wild imagination.”
The swinging door opens and Zac aims a water rifle at Addison and fires. She squeals and raises her arms to her face. Whooping, Zac falls back and Addison yells, “I’m going to kill you, you little freak!”
“Freak is Bre’s nickname!” he shouts.
The door opens again and Addison stops from rushing the person entering when Paul walks in with a skateboard in his hand and heads to the fridge. “Bre’s nickname isn’t freak, it’s Encyclopedia-freak. Ain’t I right, Encyclopedia-freak?”
Paul flashes a what-are-you-going-to-do-to-me grin. I used to like Paul. Back when he was cute and had baby fat rolls. Middle school has morphed him into a demon that even Satan can’t control.
Baby brother wants to test me, then I’ll call his bluff. “Showers and baths need to start. You can take yours.”
His grin fades. “Make the babies go first.”
“Maybe next time you won’t call me names.” I shove a glass harder than I should into the top rack and it clanks against the others. If I were at private school, I’d be eating crappy cafeteria food that I didn’t cook and didn’t have to clean up and I wouldn’t be arguing with the demon child. That is my version of heaven.
The pure hate radiating from his glare bothers me more than I wish it would. Back when he had the baby fat and dimples, I was his favorite.
“Do you know why we call her Encyclopedia-freak?” he taunts me by asking Addison.
Because that’s what Clara calls me? I’m five foot six and right now I’m feeling two feet tall. I watch the water falling out the faucet and hold a plate in my hand. Addison’s heard them call me the name. She knows bits and pieces of how my mind works and she’s also aware of how it makes me feel so...different.
“What’s the capital of Russia?” he says.
Moscow. Population of Russia: 143,025,000. Area: 6,592,850 square miles.
“Look at the freak go,” Paul sings. “Her eyes dart when she’s listing facts in her messed-up head, but she acts like she ain’t weird.”
A lump forms in my throat. Paul gives everyone a hard time, but with Clara home for the summer, it’s middle school on repeat.
I slam the plate into the bottom rack. “Go take a shower or I’ll tell Mom you didn’t come straight home from school today.”
He mumbles something not twelve-year-old appropriate, but he leaves. I hold on to the counter with both hands. This is the reason why I keep my little Jedi mind tricks to myself.
“Don’t let him get to you,” Addison offers. “He’s an evil troll that will never get a date when he hits high school.”
“He makes me feel like I’m reliving bad stuff.”
“We aren’t in middle school anymore,” Addison says in a soft tone.
“I know.”
“Sometimes I don’t think you do.” But she moves on before I can answer. “Jesse is following me again.”
This is the reason we’re friends—she doesn’t dwell. Like when I told her Mom and Dad nixed my plans to leave. She shrugged an “I’m sorry” and then she painted my nails.
I continue with the dishes and run the spaghetti-sauce-stained bowl through the warm water. “I’m lost. Are we happy or sad or annoyed over this?”
It’s Thursday and tomorrow is the first day of school. It’s weird to start on a Friday, but the district thought that we, the high school students, would be better readjusted into the school year with this schedule. Because of this, Addison and I are completing our night-before-school-begins ritual of freaking out. This year, our worries about how the year will go are complicated by Addison’s on-again, off-again boyfriend, Jesse, and their social media drama.
He unfollows her. She unfollows him back. He posts a picture of him and another girl and tags Addison. She cries. He follows her again, then tags her in some heartfelt message of how he’s sorry. I was over it from the moment he unfollowed her.
Addison wrinkles her nose. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to get back together.”
“Then don’t.”
She sighs, and her pain is so palpable there’s an ache within me. I’m not sure she liked being with Jesse as much as she liked that Jesse whisked her away from her house. Whenever, to wherever, with no questions asked.
There’s a fresh bruise on her forearm that I’d bet is retaliation for my family forgetting us. I focus on how the water washes the crumbs from a plate. “Did your dad do that?”