by Cora Kenborn
“Charlee!” Willow hissed, planting her hands on her hips in a no-nonsense manner that, while irritating, amused me. Lately, she’d attempted random acts of growing a set of baby balls. It was cute, but cute wasn’t something I had time to appreciate at the moment.
“Problem?”
“They’re twelve!” she sputtered, waving a hand between our twin cousins. “Do you have to be so vulgar?” Her eyes narrowed into eerily familiar disapproving slits that I’d spent seventeen years learning to conquer. Apparently, while GrandBabs was teaching me to cheat at blackjack, my studious cousin had enrolled herself into the Adelaide LeBlanc school of guilt trips.
And graduated with honors.
Rod, the older of Uncle Bam’s twin boys, ran his stubby hand over his blond buzz cut and spat on the ground. “You sayin’ we ain’t old enough to pull this off? Reele shoved a bottle rocket up a gator’s ass last week. Damn thing lit up that critter’s shit shoot like the Fourth of July.”
I had to give them credit, it was one hell of a show. Plus, it earned them a haul down to Sheriff Doogie’s office, not that anyone batted an eye. Rod and Reele had been riding home in a squad car since the day they walked into kindergarten.
Yes, my cousins’ names were Rod and Reele. I never tried to understand Uncle Bam’s thought processes. I just hung around for the entertainment.
Reele just grinned, his missing canine tooth making him look like a cartoon character. Oh, it wasn’t that he lost it. No, Reele decided he wanted to look like Daddy and commissioned Rod to jerk it out with a set of pliers. That thing gushed so much blood Mama had to sedate Aunt Kat with vodka until she couldn’t see straight. Uncle Bam just fist-bumped both boys and took a ton of selfies to post online.
I shook my head and sighed. I didn’t care to trace our family history back to our ancestors. Some people dug around and found they were related to royalty. I was pretty sure the Dubois bloodline led straight to a coat of arms that had eight fingers on one webbed hand.
Know what I mean?
“Look,” I said, handing both boys a plain white envelope, “I’m only going to say this one more time, so listen up. You’re collecting money to buy new encyclopedias for your school. Make it believable and pull out all the stops.”
“What’s an esyclobediat?”
Shit. I’m going to go to jail because my cousins can’t pass recess.
“Encyclopedia. They’re a set of books for school libraries where you can look up facts about things you need to know.” I might as well have been speaking Chinese from the glazed looks in their eyes. “Like Wikipedia, but with real books.”
“Oh. Then why don’t the school just look up stuff on Wiki instead?”
“Yeah,” Reele added, his eyes lighting up. “Or Pornhub. They must be real smart on there ‘cause Daddy asks them questions all the time.”
I cringed as Willow folded her arms and rocked back on her heels. “All this because you got caught playing a game of Whack-A-Mailbox, huh? Wouldn’t it be more ethical to admit to your mistake and accept your punishment instead of corrupting the youth of America?”
Hello, morality police. It’s been a whole forty-five minutes since you popped in.
“First of all, I wouldn’t have gotten caught if you would’ve driven the car like I asked you to,” I snapped, waving my finger in her face. “Secondly, a Dubois never admits defeat, and lastly, how the hell can you accuse me of corrupting Beelzebub and Lucifer?”
Rod stopped picking his nose long enough to look insulted. “Who are those guys?”
“I think they’re superheroes.” The serious expression on Reele’s face almost gave him a shred of credibility until he scratched his balls and added, “They shoot ammo out of their eye sockets and control minds. Pretty badass stuff.”
“Oh, well then.” Rod grinned, tapping his empty envelope against his palm. “In that case, Buzzybub and Luckyfur are on the job.”
It’s not even worth correcting.
Running my hands through my hair, I reminded myself it was too late to back out now. No mission succeeded without the conviction of its leader. So, regardless of the fact that my army was currently arguing over who could pee the farthest, I was going to lead the hell out of them.
“Good, keep it on the down low. When you’re done, come back here, and I’ll give you your cut.” Just as they high-fived each other, I grabbed their collars and jerked them back. “But only if you get away with it. No mentioning mine or Willow’s name, and whatever you do, stay away from our parents or you forfeit. Got it?”
A quizzical look passed between them, and I rolled my eyes again.
“Forfeit,” I groaned. “It means to give up. Lose. Hasta la vista, baby.”
They nodded and happily trotted off to do my bidding. Satisfied with how easily I pulled everyone’s strings, I reached into the back pocket of my cut-off shorts and pulled out a mini-bottle of vodka. Before I could even unscrew the cap, Willow smacked it out of my hands with a horrified gasp.
“Where did you get that?”
There was no use searching for my lost bottle. The sun had set, and nighttime in the bayou was darker than the middle of the swamp. I’d have better luck finding Sasquatch. Instead, I turned my ire toward my straight-laced cousin. We locked gazes, and shockingly, she didn’t turn into the shrinking violet she usually did when I gave her “the look”.
Not that she wasn’t fighting the urge to crap in her demure pink dress. No, Willow Pope knew a shit show was coming, but as loud as her knees were knocking, she stood her ground.
You gotta respect that.
“You wanna tell me what’s crawled up your ass?” I growled, still pissed that she’d ruined my fun.
“Where did you get that?”
“What’s crawled up your ass?”
“Where did you get that?” she repeated, not budging.
“Damn it, Will! You gotta lighten up. Take the stick out of your ass and live a little. There’s a whole stash of them in GrandBabs’ house. It’s not like she hid them very well.”
“My name is Willow,” she bit out through clenched teeth. “And underage drinking is illegal!”
I knew her damn name. I just liked screwing with her.
“You’re not my mother.” Crossing my arms over my cropped tank top, I stomped across the yard, muttering under my breath. “Even though you act just like her.”
“Well maybe you should act a little more like her,” she huffed, her blonde ponytail bobbing as she ran to catch up to me. “She has your best interest at heart, and she’s a smart, classy lady.”
Stopping dead in my tracks, I gave myself a momentary reprieve to remember I loved my cousin like a sister and really didn’t want to throat punch her. “Yeah? Well, Aunt Savvy is fun. She gets me and understands that sometimes stepping outside the lines isn’t so bad. Maybe you should try it sometime. I’m sure your ankles wouldn’t burst into flames if they saw the sun.”
She gasped, glancing down at her modest outfit. “What’s wrong with the way I dress?”
“Nothing, if you’re a time traveler from 1952.”
“And what about the way you dress?” she shot back, motioning to my cut-off jean shorts and belly-baring tank top with the word “REBEL” written across the front.
“My style makes a statement.”
Willow snorted. “Yeah, if your statement is, ‘Hi, I’m open for business; come in for a free sample.’”
“Are you calling me a slut?”
“Are you calling me a prude?”
As we argued, I noticed I could hear the chatter from the crowd of partygoers in the distance. It made me smile. If the rising volume of their voices was any indication, I’d timed everything to perfection. Placing my finger on my lips, I grabbed Willow’s hand and pulled her along behind me as I inched my way toward the massive bonfire everyone had gathered around. I grinned as my assumption was verified when a loud belch preceded Uncle Duck’s slurred challenge to some poor unsuspecting sap.
“Bet I can shot
gun a beer faster than you.”
Perfect. Mass intoxication. Pay dirt.
“You’re on,” Uncle Bam said, whooping while fist pumping the air to entice the crowd of onlookers. “Ya never learn, do ya? Don’t bet against a professional.”
Everyone seemed to be preoccupied with watching the show. If it wouldn’t have drawn attention to myself, I would’ve given myself a well-deserved pat on the back. I couldn’t have planned it any better. While everyone picked sides, chanting either Bam-Bam or Duck’s name, Rod and Reele meandered on the outskirts of the crowd, collecting money for a fictional set of encyclopedias designed to keep my ass out of jail.
Again.
Even Mama got into the action, shocking the hell out of me. My proper mother, who lectured me constantly on the dangerous path I was on, screamed in Duck’s face to stop being a pussy and suck it like a man.
I almost passed out.
Dad just laughed, his salt and pepper hair flopping over his forehead as he wrapped his arms around Mama’s waist and hugged her. They were always doing that crap around me. Seriously, what seventeen year old needed to see her parents make out in the hallway while trying to brush her teeth?
My parents were like night and day. I still had no idea how they worked, but somehow, they’d managed to stay married for seventeen years.
Yeah, I’ve done the math.
At forty-eight years old, people still mistook my mom and me for sisters. It was both annoying and flattering. We were both tall and slim, with the same deep reddish-brown hair, although mine dusted my waist whereas hers skimmed her shoulders. However, I’d inherited my dad’s blue eyes. Mom called them a dangerous blessing. I’d never quite figured out what she meant, but Dad just grinned when I’d asked and said to use my powers for good instead of evil.
Sorry, Dad. That ship has sailed.
I was hardly the debutante my mom had been at my age. If Willow and I weren’t eighteen months apart in age, I’d have sworn we were switched at birth. Although she was blonde and shorter than me, she was smart, poised, and straight as an arrow. It was as if my mom had split into two people. Me? I bucked the system and rolled the dice, excited to see where they landed. Unfortunately, more times than not, it was in hot water.
GrandBabs used to laugh and say that Willow and I were Mom and Aunt Savvy’s payback for acting like assholes. I wondered if karma wound play the same trick on us someday?
With the beer shotgun competition completed, cheers erupted from the crowd as Uncle Pope raised Uncle Bam-Bam’s hand in victory. Hmmm. It wasn’t much of a distraction, but hopefully, it gave Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumbass enough time to collect my fine money.
If I went to jail because of those bastards, I’d make sure they were virgins well into their golden years.
It wasn’t until I felt the warm breath on my neck and smelled the familiar scent of Doritos that I knew it’d be another bastard causing my downfall.
“Running another scam, huh, sis?”
I fisted my hands by my side, reminding myself that if I dick punched my fourteen-year-old brother, I’d be arrested and homeless. “Walk away, Beau. This doesn’t concern you.”
“Well, for the first time in your life, you’re right,” he said, walking around me with a smirk. Beau was the spitting image of our father, and as he grinned his dimples sank deep into his cheeks. I wanted to poke my fingers in them and squeeze until his skull popped.
“Usually, this is where I’d entice you to buy my silence with a cut of the profits,” he continued. “But I don’t want any part of what’s about to go down.”
“What are you ramblin’ on about now?”
If I’d been paying attention to what was happening around me instead of plotting my brother’s untimely death, I would’ve known exactly what he meant. Unfortunately, it took Willow tugging on my elbow, then pointing in front of us to command my attention.
“Charlee…”
I followed her shaking arm to where Rod and Reele flanked our great aunt, all three of them ready to shit lava. The boys had completely fallen out of character, and Aunt Claudette held her huge wicker purse to her chest like she was about to be mugged.
Which she probably was.
“Well, young man, to be honest, I don’t see a flyer explaining this encyclopedia fundraiser, and you certainly don’t look like you’re telling me the truth.”
Reele handed his envelope to his brother and swiped the back of his hand across his nose. “Well, to be honest, ma’am, you’re old, so you probably don’t hear so good. Look, these fatherfuckin’ eraclametias are important to our school. If you don’t pay up, we have to get all our facts and stuff from Pornhub.”
“Oh shit,” I whispered, lowering my head.
“Reele Lafayette!” Aunt Kat gasped, grabbing her son by the tongue and dragging him over to her. “Watch your mouth!”
Willow just clucked her tongue. “Proud of yourself?”
“Charlotte Olivia LeBlanc!”
I didn’t care who you were or how old you were; nothing evoked more fear than having your mother scream out your full name separated by drawn-out pauses for emphasis. Only one word tore through my mind, and somewhere in my daze, I heard myself yell it in an “every Dubois for themselves” warning.
“Run!”
Beau took off toward the woods, as Willow and I ran halfway around the swamp like our asses were on fire, which they would be if our mamas caught us. By the time we hit the abandoned lot on the other side, we knew we were safe. Climbing onto the rickety front porch, we collapsed, both of us gasping for air.
Neither of us spoke for a good fifteen minutes. It was as if there was an unwritten rule that if we didn’t open our mouths, nothing bad would happen. It was moronic and childish, but it seemed to work until a deafening boom shook the foundation of the house, causing Willow and me to jolt upright.
“Oh my God, do you think we should go back?” The worried look Willow’s face almost made me agree until I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye. “Maybe someone’s hurt?” she wondered aloud. “I think—”
Slapping my hand over her mouth, I pointed into the distance, past the wide field in front of us where Uncle Bam ran like a bat out of hell, yelling at the top of his lungs. Not fifteen feet behind him, a pissed-off-looking alligator chased after him, his tail sparking yellow embers and sending up one hell of an impressive smoke plume.
“Oh, sweet baby Jesus,” he screamed, zigzagging as he ran. “I lit a fart on it, and it didn’t die! It didn’t die, and now I’m gonna die. Save yourselves!”
Before I could open my mouth, a herd of people swarmed after him, some yelling for Bam to stop, drop, and roll, others urging him to surrender, while an extremely intoxicated Duck encouraged him to, “Let ‘er rip and light the fucker up again.”
As the commotion passed, Willow and I sat in silence, absorbing the insanity we’d been born into.
“Do you think we’ll be like them when we grow up?” she mused.
“I hope not. My mom drives me crazy.” I braced myself for the counter I knew was coming.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Willow purse her lips and tilt her head, her stare burning the side of my face. “Aunt Addie is smart.”
Yeah. Sometimes too smart.
“Yeah, well, Aunt Savvy is fun.”
Heaving a sigh, she twisted her fingers together and shifted her gaze forward. “Mom doesn’t understand me. Sometimes I think she wishes I was more like you.”
It was my turn to stare at her. Willow wasn’t a doormat by any means, but she was an intensely private person, keeping most of her secrets locked away. Her freely offered admission reminded me the bond we’d always shared was strong and unnbreakable. There was no one else in the world I trusted more than her.
Long ago, GrandBabs sat Willow and me down and told us how close Mom and Aunt Savvy were growing up. She said that something happened, and they moved away. For more than ten years, they didn’t speak, return home, or remember where th
ey came from. Apparently, it took GrandPappy’s death to make them remember that even though you might leave home, home never leaves you.
I couldn’t imagine leaving Willow. Sure we fought, but that was what sisters did. Technically, we were cousins, but titles didn’t matter much when you knew who you were.
As the sounds of the Southern Louisiana bayou filtered through the night air, I grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “Whatever happens, we’ll stick together, you and me. It’s like GrandBabs always said, ‘Only count on family and gator, everybody else suck ass.’”
“Charlee!” Willow let out a loud giggle.
I just shrugged. “Well, she did.”
Examining our entwined hands, Willow turned them sideways and balanced them between our two knees. “I never want to leave Terrebonne. Even when we grow up, let’s promise never to leave this front porch and always have each other’s backs.” Folding all the fingers down on her free hand, she lifted the very last one and raised an expectant eyebrow. “Pinkie swear?”
People say that unless we learn from the mistakes of those who came before us, history is bound to repeat itself. The Dubois sisters made plenty of mistakes, and GrandBabs made sure Willow and I knew about each and every one of them. Sure, I liked to walk on the wild side, but I was content to walk it within the parish lines of the only place that would ever be home. The place where front porches solved problems and Sunday barbecues included half the town. And one day, if some boy broke my heart, he could just deal with watching me move on right in front of his face.
Because this was my town.
My home.
My everything.
Hooking my pinkie around hers, I smiled and rested my head against her shoulder. “Not for all the money in the world.”
Acknowledgments
K.A.’s Acknowledgements
Cora, welp, we wrapped it up the same way we started it…in a mad dash to the finish with little sleep and a whole lotta caffeine. Writing these seven books with my best friend has been the most incredible experience I’ve ever had in my time as an author. We created a family of outrageous characters who drink too much and make questionable decisions, but at the end of the day, their love for each other trumps everything and that is exactly how I feel about you. You’re my sista from another mista and the best friend I’ve ever had. Thank you for going on this journey with me and still loving me at the end! #DuckFlu4Lyfe
