Chapter 3 #2
Swallowing the grossness seeping out of my twisting stomach, I turn back toward my bedroom. Scuffing my shoes along the carpet, I’m distracted by something in my brother Drew’s bedroom.
“Whoa!” I shout, pushing open the ajar door. “What are you doing?”
Drew’s lanky frame hunches over his desk as he runs a cigarette lighter’s flame across a wooden ruler.
“As Dad would say,” Drew drawls, twirling the flame against the singeing wood, “Nothing productive.”
“Drew,“ I shriek, rushing toward him. I yank the hand holding the lighter and blow air at the ruler. “Stop it! Are you crazy?”
“Relax, Tab,” Drew says, still hunched as his eyes wander the thin wooden tool in his hand. “It wasn’t gonna completely catch fire.”
“Can you just turn the lighter off?”
He mumbles a laugh, planting the now-off lighter on the desk. “So touchy, Tabby.”
“Is it really touchy not to want the house to catch fire?”
Drew rolls his eyes. “Do you really think I’d let that happen?”
I fold my arms and turn away from him. “I really don’t know what you’d do these days.”
“Well, I’d never endanger my family. Or do you not believe that either?”
I release my elbows and turn back to my oldest brother. “Of course, I believe that.”
“I heard the screaming match,” Drew says, reclining back on his chair and combing his fingers through his long, bleached hair. Dad was not happy when he destroyed his dark hair.
“I wouldn’t call it screaming,“ I deflect, focusing on the jester tattooed on the inside of Drew’s forearm.
“You screamed your way into my room.” He smiles to himself. “What’d ya do this time?”
“Nothing. Mom’s totally overreacting.”
“Is that so? What’s your tactic when Dad comes home?”
My stomach drops with dread. “Umm. Well… He won’t be home till late. By then, you’ll probably do something worse, and I won’t even be a topic of discussion.”
His eyebrows lift. “Is that so?”
My gaze flicks to the lighter. “I just caught you trying to light something on fire. Why do you have that lighter, anyway? Oh, no, Drew. Don’t tell me you’ve taken up smoking? For goodness’ sake, Dad’s a doctor. Haven’t you heard enough lectures about lung cancer?”
“Good lord, Tabby,” Drew blurts, sitting upright in his chair. “Would you stop rambling? I’m not smoking. I just like the smoky look of blackened objects.”
Something sour lines the back of my throat. “That’s not creepy at all, Drew.”
He deadpans me. “It’s an art project.”
“Sounds destructive to me.”
“And now, you sound like Dad.”
“Can you blame me?”
“I thought only Golden Boy Freddy was supposed to be a Dr. Jones clone?”
I search his desk and then snatch his inhaler.
“My gosh, your asthma used to be so bad. Why would you risk it? Or have you forgotten all those scary times?” I grimace at the blackened marks on the outer plastic of the inhaler.
“Ick, maybe you haven’t. Drew, you’ve been burning your inhaler? That’s so dangerous!”
He grabs the inhaler from me. “I don’t need my little sister lecturing me.”
“Sorry for caring.” I back out of Drew’s bedroom. “Look, I just didn’t want you to set yourself on fire. I’ve got homework I’m ordered to do.”
“Close the door on your way out,” Drew says, picking up the lighter and flicking it on.
“No way.” I gasp, startled. “Drew, seriously, put the lighter away.”
He gives me a wry smile. “Why? Gonna tell Mom?”
I deadpan him. “What if Dad catches you?”
His grin widens. “I’m counting on it.”
“Ugh. You’re impossible.” I leave his room, making sure the door is as wide open as possible, and move on to my room.
Hopefully, Freddy will catch Drew in the act and snatch the lighter from him.
Or, second-best, Corbin runs in and screams the house down, alerting our parents to our oldest brother’s newest destructive habit.
I shut my bedroom door behind me and slink over to my bed.
When I collapse, I lift my phone over my head and open a new episode of my favorite podcast, Crime Spree’d.
The two hosts use wacky humor that always makes me smile, yet they talk about graphic true crimes.
Something about the horrible murders takes me out of my reality.
To hear about something so vile makes me forget about my crappy school day, my crappy arguments with my mother, and my crappy interactions with my friends.
Speaking of which, Camila and Yvette would never approve of me listening to Crime Spree’d if they knew.
This is only for late nights when I’m alone in my bedroom.
Unable to help myself, I open the text chain with the girls.
Annoyingly, they put off going to Cynthia’s until I’m around to see Cammy modeling the red dress again.
Now that they’re both home, Cammy and Yvie are rating guys from our school.
Although, surprisingly, they’re not concentrating on the football team.
Maybe my crack about Clint earlier today made Cammy want to sideline her usual favorite topic.
Instead, they’re reminiscing about watching the baseball team.
Yvie is commenting on how tight Wade Peters’s butt looks in his baseball uniform.
My hands cramp as I use the phone. I’m still pent up about the fight with Mom, plus my back is knotting from what Drew is up to, so I keep alternating hands as I join the conversation. Wade might have a good body, but who are we kidding? Hayden McGregor is downright adorable.
"OMG, Tabby! He’s going with Cindy Struthers," Camila texts. "Do you really want to go after her man?"
I frown at the text. All I said was, he’s cute. I’m not looking to be the other woman.
"Tabby’s always had beef with Cindy," Yvie texts. "OMG Tab, you’re gonna make a play for Hayden. You’re so naughty."
I huff and drop my phone. Whatever. My head hurts too much to defend myself. They wouldn’t listen, anyway. Now that they’ve convinced themselves I’m going after Hayden, there’s no stopping them until a juicier piece of gossip comes up. Real or fake, it doesn’t matter.
The hosts of Crime Spree’d do their best to hold my attention.
Somehow, my mother’s nagging voice claws its way into my head.
Scrunching my eyes closed, and massaging my forehead, I try recalling my chemistry homework.
I was paying zero attention in class. I don’t even know what page we were on.
It never occurred to me to copy it down.
I don’t remember a single class where Cammy and I didn’t chat the whole time.
Why is it all of a sudden a big deal for Mrs. Field?
And why the heck did she have to tell my mother?