“I’m just saying …”
But that ended that string of the conversation. She wasn’t trying to be a pest; she was actually trying to warn her older brother, to help keep him protected from some of the crazy bitches out there. She was almost sixteen and, at least according to Dad (who still proudly declared to friends and strangers alike how Delaney skipped second grade) really smart, book- smart anyway. They had had their fights and bitter moments and he had enjoyed torturing her every so often by sometimes swapping her shampoo with olive oil or, on one occasion, mayonnaise. She got her revenge for the mayonnaise: she dropped a pair of red socks into a load of his whites and all his underwear and socks came out pink. He had thrown out a whole bunch of clothes that day and made Mom buy him new stuff. He had been so pissed at Delaney for that, but that was how things went between brother and sister. Besides, she was pretty cool, even for a girl. She liked good music, like Spoon and even old ones like The Clash, and she read Stephen King novels, which immediately made her a cooler girl than eighty percent of them out there. Still, she was his sister, and as a result …
“You’re not going out like that, are you?” he asked her.
“What?”
“With your hair like that and your face.”
Concern flashed in her eyes and she started grooming herself with her hands without seeing what she was doing, and then anger conquered concern. “Shut up.”
He shrugged. “I just don’t want my baby sister going out in public looking like, well, like you. It would be embarrassing for the family.”
“Fuck you.”
“Delaney,” Dad said immediately. “Please.”
She leaned across the table and whispered, “At least I don’t like boys with snaggleteeth.”
Sasha’s snaggletooth hadn’t bothered him, not even when he was on top of her and pressing his lips against hers as hard as he thrusted inside her. This morning, his own lips were a bit sore. As well as the thing in his pants that had gotten him into this mess.
When he didn’t respond, Delaney’s face softened. “I’m just joking. You can barely notice it.”
“Forget it,” he said.
“It’s only noticeable when she talks.” He couldn’t help but laugh with her; she had a great laugh, the contagious type. Though he’d never tell her, he loved her for being able to make him laugh, especially this morning.
The eggs were off the pan and steaming on his plate. He had thought he was hungry but the sight of the yellow clumps and the sulfur smell wafting off them almost made him gag. He drank more coffee and pushed his chair back a foot.
“Stop pestering your brother,” Dad said. “He’s not used to being up before noon.”
If Tyler didn’t redirect the conversation, this would soon evolve, or devolve, into a two-front onslaught against him. They were only teasing, of course, not trying to be mean, but he knew what would happen if they kept prying at him. He’d snap, say something he’d regret (like the truth) and lock himself in his room where the only thing waiting for him was an endless mental movie of what had happened last night—you raped me.
“Do I look ugly today?” Delaney asked Dad. While that was a perfect set up for Tyler to throw in a quip—no more than usual, sis—he resisted because that would only encourage a return attack from her. Or because you’re done with childish things. You’ve been with a woman—you’re now a man.
Then why did he want to vomit?
Dad smiled at her, touched her hair, shook his head. “You got your mother’s wispy hair, like straw. And my deep eyes, like canyons. In fact, go like this”—he held out his arms from his sides—“you would make quite the scarecrow.”
She frowned at him. “Har. De. Har.”
He held up several strands of her hair in a goofy Mohawk. “Don’t you think your sister’s face would scare the birds away, Brendan?”
But Brendan wasn’t listening. He had that composition book he always carried around with him open on his lap.
“He thinks you’re so frightening he can’t even look at you,” Dad said. He was on quite the roll this morning. Maybe Mom was feeling better. Or maybe he had accepted how she was dealing with things. Either way, it was nice to have life in the house again.
“Stop it,” Delaney said and swatted Dad’s hand away.
Brendan still did not look up. His eyes were narrow slits and his eyebrows pushed almost together in concentration.
Tyler touched him on the shoulder and the response was as if Tyler had zapped him with a stun gun: a tremor raced through Brendan’s body and his head snapped up and to the side, eyes suddenly huge, skin taunt. Tyler jumped and let him go. Maybe there had been electricity in the exchange.
“You alright, son?” Dad asked. Whenever he added son or daughter to a question it meant he was genuinely concerned.
Recognition registered on Brendan’s face and he relaxed, then smiled almost convincingly. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m fine. Sorry.”
“You sure you’re okay?”
He nodded.
“You take Pillie Billy?”
“That name is so stupid,” Delaney said.
Brendan nodded again.
An uneasy silence settled in the room. The scrape of Delaney’s fork across her plate made Tyler twitch and even the smell of the coffee, so wonderful and life-giving at first, had adopted a sour stench, which turned his stomach.
“And no,” Brendan said, to which everyone responded with sudden concern—did he mean everything wasn’t alright? Was he sick? Had he overheard Tyler on the phone last night? Was he writing out everything Tyler said in that composition book? Was he going to tell everyone right now what Tyler had done? “I don’t think Delaney’s scary enough to frighten the birds. Maybe a squirrel or two, though.”
The tension snapped with a huge laugh from Dad that was out of proportion to Brendan’s joke. Still, it felt good to laugh again and Tyler joined in. Delaney did too until she felt the laughter had gone on too long and then she got up from the table. She was wearing her comfies: gym shorts and a T-shirt with a heart on it.
“But vit that outfit,” Dad said in a Count Dracula voice, “vatch out birds, cats, dogs, maybe even small children.” He held up his hands in a mock-vampire attack gesture straight out of those old black and white horror movies. “You even make Dracula recoil vit terror.”
“Really funny,” Delaney said in her most un-amused voice. “I need to get ready and then I need the car to get to SAT prep.”
Still in the Dracula voice, Dad said, “First you can take your brother to bowling.”
“Enough with the voice, Dad.”
“Vhat? This is how I talk.”
“No wonder Mom won’t come out of her room.”
Though Dad continued to hold the vampire posture, arms up, hands arched as if to attack, his face lost the Dracula impersonation and no one laughed. Delaney glanced around, mostly at the floor, and when her eyes found Tyler’s she quickly looked away. “Anyway,” she said.
“Okay,” Dad said without the accent. Delaney left.
“I’ll take him to bowling,” Tyler said after a moment.
Guilt weighed on Dad’s face. “You don’t have to, I can do it if your sister is running late.”
“No big deal,” Tyler said. “I’ll take him.”
Dad nodded, and started washing the pan he used for the eggs.
“When does bowling start?” Tyler asked Brendan, but the kid had turned back to his composition book. What the hell was he writing?
One way or the other, Tyler was going to find out.
5
Anthony had almost forgotten about the guys in the suits and their First Church of Jesus Christ the Empowered, but after he cleaned the frying pan and started to load the dishwasher with the kids’ plates, which they left on the table, he found the flier the men had given him.