by Cassie Mae
Adam sits back, unfolding the paper. A long whistle floats from his mouth when his eyes graze over my big fat Fs.
“Wow.”
“I know.”
A small frown pulls at the corners of his mouth. “So, how’d this happen?”
I shrug, turning to the window to look at the suddenly interesting chain link fence. Anything to stare at besides that disappointment in his face. I don’t do anything to please anyone but myself, but Adam’s opinion somehow matters to me. Maybe it’s because his opinion of me usually speaks higher than the opinion I have of myself.
“Come on, Brea. It’s me. Is something going on?”
Just the same old stress. I’ve never been able to pull good grades out. I’ve never failed before, though.
“Maybe I’m just stupid,” I say to the window. I didn’t realize how hard that was for me to say out loud until I hear the wetness in my voice. Which is so totally not me. I keep things locked tight until they evaporate.
“You are not stupid.” Adam settles the report card back in my lap. “I think something is bugging you. And I know you don’t want to talk about whatever it is. But I think you should.”
I hate that he’s right. I don’t want to talk about my anxiety issues. It makes me feel weak, and really, what the hell is talking going to do.
I sniff and push back those pesky tears. Folding the paper back up, I ask him, “Do you think I can make this up? I really don’t want to go to summer school.” Regular school is bad enough.
“It’s only midterm. So, yeah, you could pull it up.”
He sounds doubtful. That’s real encouraging.
“Yeah, okay.” I yank on the door lock and reach for the handle, but he leans over and smacks it down again.
“Brea…if you want help, all you have to do is ask.”
I give him a look, but the dorky grin on his face does me in, and I’m laughing before I can stop myself.
“I know.” And I do. Adam is good like that. I pry his fingers from the door lock and slide out of the seat before he can stop me again. “Thanks for the ride.”
He nods and grabs his iPod to change to his music. A tiny flutter goes through my stomach because I love that he lets me listen to my stuff even though I know he hates it.
“Brea?”
I lean back into the window. “Yeah?”
He puts the iPod down, and his soft brown eyes meet mine. The tiny flutter turns into a whopping tornado.
“You’re not stupid. Don’t ever think that again, ‘kay?”
His words melt my stubbornness, and it’s out before I can stop it. “Adam…I need help.” I close my eyes and squat down, holding onto the car window to keep me stable. “Will you please help me?”
I hear a car door open and slam shut, then arms wrap around my shoulders and instead of the car keeping me up, it’s a warm cotton T-shirt and a hard chest.
I mentally shout at my eyes to keep those tears back.
He squeezes me tight and answers into my hair. “Consider me your on call tutor.”
Chapter 5
Brothers need to act more like friends and less like bossy buttheads.
We don’t own a dinner table, but Mom—with major backup from Levi—insists we sit together as a family and eat. I personally think you can eat PB&J anytime, anywhere, but I’m outvoted.
Levi’s in his blue button-up, tie slung over his left shoulder as he eats over his plate. The gold Cineplex manager name tag is clipped to his front pocket, and the sun keeps hitting it and reflecting in my face. I’ve shifted in my chair about twenty times just to get away.
“What time are you off tonight?” Mom asks Levi, moving her plate to look over a stack of papers on the side table. She’s in the lawn chair we use as furniture with her feet kicked up on the edge of the couch next to my leg.
Levi puts his hand to his mouth, holding up a finger. He chews, swallows, and drops his hand. “Last show is at ten-thirty, so after count and closing, probably around one.”
Mom purses her lips, and I know she’s holding back how much she wishes Levi was working the day shift for longer hours. By the look on Levi’s face, I know he knows it too. I bite my tongue because Mom spent all day by the phone waiting for a call from the temp agency. I’ve offered to go with her to the mall or to a few grocery stores to grab applications. Heck, I’ve actually picked up those applications, and they sit on our kitchen counter completely blank.
Levi clears his throat and picks up his glass of water. “I’m working fifteen hours of overtime this pay period though, so it should make up for the short shifts.”
Mom nods, fanning out the bills on the table. I take another bite of my sandwich and mentally scold myself for not looking for a job either. This weekend for sure. I’ll be on that Monster.com like Adam on a book sale.
Levi gets up from the couch and washes his plate in the sink. Mom sniffs a few times, and I refuse to watch her tear up like she does every time around the first and fifteenth of the month. It almost has me filling out those applications for her myself. Not sure if she’s used to having Levi handle everything, or accepted it, or what. I know Levi doesn’t think it’s a big deal anymore, but he also hasn’t told Mom his plans to move out at the end of the summer. He doesn’t want to rock the boat, and he knows we can’t make it without him.
Besides, Mom’ll get a permanent job. I have to believe that, even if I don’t witness any effort on her part.
“Hey, Brea…” Levi says as he puts his now clean plate in the cupboard. “Sierra said her midterms came today. You get yours, too?”
Way to swing the subject off our money problems, bro. Now the heat’s gonna be on me.
There’s no use in lying either. Between Adam and Sierra, he’s going to figure it out sooner or later.
I make sure all my tears have been pushed back as far as they can go—think I’m good—and I nod at the crust on my plate. “Yeah, I got them.”
They wait, and I grudgingly put the crust in my mouth and chew. I can’t waste food even though I’d rather chuck it in the trash.
“Well…?” Levi prods, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter.
I shrug and swallow. “Could be better.”
Levi raises his eyebrow, and Mom clears her lap free of crumbs as she sits straight, her feet flopping to the floor. She sticks her hand out and wiggles her fingers. Since I knew it was coming, and I let out everything on Adam earlier, I pull the crumpled paper from my pocket and settle it in my mom’s hand without even blinking.
It’s okay if they get mad. I’m okay with that. Just don’t get worried…
“Brea, what happened?”
Levi immediately straightens and rushes to Mom’s side to look over her shoulder. I will myself to disappear into the couch cushion.
“You’re failing four classes,” Levi says before shooting his gaze to me. All I see is worry. No anger, no frustration or disappointment. Worry. From both of them.
I hate it. I don’t want to add another thing to the problems-that-we-can’t-solve pile. So I grit my jaw and say, “I didn’t notice that. Thanks.”
They ignore my attitude.
“Well, what happened?” Levi prods. Mom’s eyes haven’t moved from my report card.
I blow out a breath and snap my empty plate up. “It’s no big deal, okay? I asked Adam to help me bring it up before the final semester grade.”
“He’s got time to do that?”
Turning on the faucet, I ignore Levi and his big nose and scrub my plate clean. It bugs me that he asks about Adam having time when I didn’t even think about it. Adam works, has his own school stuff, plus he’s sorting through colleges. It didn’t even cross my mind he may not have time to help me out of this mess.
But he said yes, so I shove that guilty thought away with my clean plate.
“Can I be excused?” I ask the carpet at Mom’s feet. Levi’s mouth opens to protest, but Mom nods, and I race to my room before I get any more worried stares or questions
about school.
I fall back on my bed, yanking my phone out and toying with it. Adam said he’d call after his shift at Nut World, but I was sort of hoping he’d find time to text while he was on the clock. Even though it’s kind of hard with the big furry squirrel costume he has to wear while he stands on the corner, waving a sign to all the cars passing saying “Ask Me About Our Nuts!” or something equally embarrassing. Adam rocks at it though. He’s learned to twirl that sign over his head and around his back and between his legs…all in that big costume.
A knock comes at my door, and before I can say, “Leave me alone” Levi’s poking his head in.
“Hey.”
“Hey, what?”
“Can I come in?”
“Only if you don’t talk about school.”
His mouth pulls at the corner, and he slides into the room. He shuts the door behind him, and even though I gave him a condition on being here, I know the next thing out of his mouth will be about that damn report card.
“I don’t want you to get a job.”
Okay…maybe I don’t know him as well as I think I do. My brow crinkles as I turn to look him dead on.
“What?”
He perches on the edge of the bed. “You said you were going to look for a job when you turned sixteen. I don’t want you to.”
“Why not?” I hold back the fact that they kind of need me to get one—especially if he’s moving out.
“Because if your grades are suffering now, it’ll get ten times worse with a job on top of it.”
Boosh. There it is. I roll my eyes and put them on the ceiling, wishing I had a wad of gum in my mouth to keep my teeth from grinding.
“At the rate we’re going, I’m probably better off dropping out of school entirely. Maybe I can join Mom on the temp job market. Or I can take your shift at the soup kitchen so we get our precious bagels every morning. My Fs don’t freaking matter, Levi. Pass or fail, we’re still four months behind on every damn bill, you’re moving out, and I’ll be sitting on my ass doing nothing about it.” I slap my arm over my eyes to put as much pressure on them as possible. None of that crying shit. “I have to get a job.”
Weight lifts off my bed, and I’m ready for him to slam my door shut, but instead I get a very “stage-whispered” yell. “Your grades do matter. There’s no way in hell you’re dropping out, and if you fail, that means summer school. That isn’t free, Brea. It’s damn expensive, and it’ll just put more stress on Mom’s back. She doesn’t need that.”
“You mean you don’t need that,” I spit before I can stop it. I immediately regret the comeback because Levi never complains about what he’s been doing since Dad ran out the door. He’s the one who picked this family up after Mom’s depression and my bitchery. I know it weighs on him, but he doesn’t say anything. Even after selling his car, his drums…he let it slide off his back. I sit up, tucking my knees under my chin, avoiding his eyes. “Sorry.”
Silence creeps on us, and I chew on my thumbnail, debating on apologizing again. After about thirty seconds, Levi sits back on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair.
“Maybe I should stay.”
“What?”
“Maybe I need to stay here.” He lowers his hand. “At least until Mom gets a permanent job.”
“No job is permanent.” As soon as it’s out of my mouth, Levi shoots me a look like I’m purposely being a pain in the ass to keep fighting, but that’s not it. “I just mean if you keep using that as an excuse, you’ll never leave. And as much as I want you to stay, you’re twenty years old. You need to get out of here. Be on your own. Or with your girlfriend. Whatever you’re planning on doing.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” His voice rises, and I jolt back from his tone. “I want out of here so bad, there have been days I’ve put Sierra on the back of the moped and wanted to drive away. Just drive till there’s no gas left in the tank. I’ve wanted to apply at colleges, move out of state, get the hell out and away from all this.” He pulls out his phone, checks the time, then jams it back in his pocket as he stands. “But I don’t. Because I love you, and I love Mom. And I’m not like Dad. I won’t run away just because shit is hard. If I have to stay here till I’m seventy I will. So don’t drop out. Don’t go looking for a job. Work hard at getting your grades up so you can graduate. That’s what Mom wants for you, and that’s what I’m working so damn hard for you to do.”
Heat rolls through my chest, and I take it back. I’d rather have worry than this. Not disappointment. I know I’m not pleasant company. I know I make hard things harder. I’m not strong, but I put on that front because I hate being weak.
But I am weak.
To fight from crying, rage comes out instead. Anger at my brother who doesn’t deserve it, but it comes out anyway.
“I’m sorry to be such an inconvenience to you. I’m sorry I’m stupid and can’t focus in class because my mind is on my half empty stomach. I’m sorry you feel like you have to stay for me, because I’m hardly worth the effort. I’m sorry I can’t—”
“Everything is awesome! Everything is cool when you’re part of a team.”
Both of us jump at my cell, screaming out the theme of The Lego Movie at volume three hundred. I growl at the floor, lean over, and snatch my phone up.
Jay.
I totally forgot about him. How awful is that? He’s the sexy sophomore angel sent to our school who wants to hang with me…and I forget.
“Hello?” I croak, then quickly clear my throat.
“Hey, is this Brea?”
I shoot a glance at my brother who’s still standing two feet away from me, calming his breathing and pinching his nose.
“Hi Jay. Um…can you hang on a second?”
“Sure.”
Covering the mouthpiece, I drop my hands to my side and swallow hard. I want to say something to him. Apologize again for yelling, for making things worse, for not even knowing why we’re fighting it just explodes sometimes when things build in my mind for too long. But I don’t. All I do is make sure my voice is steady and soft when I say, “You don’t want to be late for work.”
Levi does this thing where it looks like he’s halfway between hugging me and strangling me. He doesn’t do either and just walks from my room, letting the door shut quietly behind him. I take a small breather before I put the phone back up to my ear.
“Sorry about that,” I say to Jay, hoping my voice is even.
“It’s cool. I didn’t catch you at a bad time, did I?”
Yes.
“No.”
“Awesome. So, how are you?”
“Okay, I guess.” I’m not sure if it’s the left over tension in the air from my argument with Levi or if it’s the phone call itself, but it feels awkward and weird. “Uh, you?”
“I’m good. I rehearsed what I was going to say about ten times before I hit call. So I’m going to spit it out before I forget.”
A slight smile twitches the corners of my mouth, and I walk over to my dresser and play with all the sketches I keep on top. “Go for it.”
“So Brea, I’m new here, not sure if you knew…” We both share a laugh, his nervous and mine totally just to humor the poor guy. “I was wondering if you’d be cool with hanging out Friday night? I can pick you up around six, and you can give me directions to all your favorite spots.”
My favorite spots? I’m glad I have notice, because if he surprised me with that one on Friday night, I would’ve told him to take me to Adam’s backyard, Sierra’s massive bedroom, or the candy aisle at Target.
I chew on my lip, opening my top drawer and digging out my pack of Stride gum Adam always keeps stocked for me. I pop a piece in and chew, wondering if I should ask Mom if it’s okay, or agree to the date now and ask for forgiveness later. She never said the word “grounded,” but I’m afraid if I ask about going out this weekend right after the grade report, she will say the word loud and clear.
“Crap, did I mess that up too? I thought
I was being pretty cool about it.” Jay laughs, and I pop my gum.
“Sorry, I was just checking…my, uh, calendar.” What baloney. I don’t even think I own a calendar. “Six on Friday sounds good.” I put on a smile, then pop my gum again. “As long as I’m allowed to pick a place with food as our first stop.”
“Of course.”
“Then… I guess it’s a date.” That word sounds weird in my voice.
“Awesome.” And he really likes that word.
I try to smile, wishing that this really great thing—I mean, hello! Hot sexy boy asking me out—would make me smile automatically, but I just can’t find it in me with everything else.
After a few more pops of gum, I finally get the smile right. Not that he can see it.
“Awesome.”
Chapter 6
It’s okay to be spoiled on a date, right?
The second Sierra and Jolie slide the zipper up the back of the red dress they forced me into, a zing of pain shoots through the back of my head.
“Ouch, shit!”
Jolie stops mid-zip as I grab a bundle of my hair to ease the pain.
“Crap, Brea, I’m sorry. Hold still. I’ll get it out.”
I take deep breaths while single strands get tugged and pulled and pinched. Damn this dress. I told them I’d be better off in Sierra’s off-the-shoulder tee.
“Do I really have to wear this? I want to be comfortable.”
Sierra bats Jolie’s hands from the back of the dress and pulls at the zipper, ripping a few more strands from my head. “It is comfy, I promise. You won’t be constantly adjusting any of it.”
“Unless my hair gets stuck in the zipper again.”
“We’ll do it up. Oh! It’ll look so pretty in a classic ponytail, especially with how long it is.”
I grip my hair again as she tugs the last little bit free. Should I tell her that even in a ponytail, my hair is long enough it’s still in danger of the zipper teeth that are determined to have it for dinner? It’s probably best not to argue right now, because I seriously need help. Is it sad that I’ve never been on a date before? Like an official boy-asked-me-out date. Unless you count the time Adam invited me to the haunted house with Levi and Sierra last year so he didn’t have to walk through alone. He said Levi wasn’t cool with him grabbing his arm when he got too scared, so he wanted mine available. I thought he was joking till we went through, and Adam made my fingers numb from squeezing them too tight. It was hilarious.
