“What are you doing in here?” Brian asked. He threw his car keys onto his dresser.
“Putting away laundry,” I said, returning my stare to the knives above his bed. “Why do you have knives on your wall?”
“Because they interest me.” He brushed past me and sat on the bed, looking up at his possessions. “Each one has a different story. Would you like to hear them?”
“Different stories? I—”
Before I finished speaking, he pulled a small knife off the wall and held it. “This one is a Civil War bowie knife. Every Confederate had one. Neat, huh?”
“Where did you get it?” I asked.
“I get them online.” He extended his arm. “Would you like to hold one?”
He had a blank expression as he offered over the weapon. I took it. My fingers rubbed the grainy imperfections along the hilt.
“How do you know it’s real?” I asked.
“I vet the sellers before I buy.”
He lifted another weapon from the wall and went into its history. He continued the process until he’d described each one. I stood quiet, listening. It was the most I’d heard him speak in years. Possibly ever.
When he finished describing the last one, I handed back the dagger. “Cool,” I said.
I hadn’t realized when he was speaking earlier, but there had been a perceptible glimmer in his eyes. It vanished, replaced again with his usual, cold stare.
“Cool?” He mocked me. “That’s all you have to say?”
“I think they’re cool, Brian,” I said, scratching my neck. “What else do you want to hear?”
“Real descriptive, Della,” he said, leaning back on the bed. “No wonder you’re in standard classes.”
I spun around, making a dramatic exit from the bedroom. Not that Brian cared. Upsetting me was never a concern; it was his intent.
Collecting knives. I thought it was an odd hobby for a high schooler. Of course, he had a lot of time to himself now that basketball was out of the picture. Brian didn’t even attempt to rejoin the team. Coach Lawson urged him to play his senior year, claiming he’d been punished enough for last year’s incident. But Brian was too stubborn. He knew it would hurt the team—and Lawson—more if he rejected the offer.
Since he no longer followed a rigorous practice schedule, I couldn’t understand where he was in the hours between school and dinner. He didn’t have a job, and Mom never encouraged him to get one. But it was obvious to me, and eventually our parents, that Brian had something keeping him busy.
Dad asked him outright over dinner where he was going.
“Out,” Brian said, taking a bite of his sandwich.
“Out where?” Dad asked, unamused.
“I go different places,” Brian said. “I don’t understand what the big deal is. I’m always home before curfew.”
“Of course you are,” Mom said, refolding her napkin and resting it on her lap. “Your dad and I would simply like to know where you go. That’s all.”
I dipped my sandwich into a bowl of tomato bisque, allowing the crust to soak in the basil-infused juices. I waited for Brian to answer. I wanted to know where he went, too.
“I’m mostly at Danny’s house. Sometimes I meet the guys at the park.”
“Fair enough,” Mom said. She stood and carried her empty dishes into the kitchen.
Dad wasn’t convinced, and I wasn’t either. Other than Danny, his only friends were his former teammates. They’d visited less frequently since the alcohol incident, and I knew he couldn’t spend every night with Danny.
The next night, Brian claimed he was going to Danny’s house. Mom was pleased he’d volunteered the information. I decided to follow him and see if that’s where he was really headed. Our birthdays were a month away. Until I turned sixteen, I couldn’t drive or get a job; I had all the time in the world to be a pesky little sister.
Through the living room window, I watched him leave. I let him get several meters ahead before I snuck out the front door. It was dark, so I kept to the far side of the sidewalk; Brian walked in the middle of the empty street, occasionally skipping left to avoid the puddles leftover from the afternoon rain.
As I suspected, he walked right past Danny’s house. He didn’t even look at the car in the driveway or the lit bedroom window. He wasn’t going to meet Danny. But where was he going? A car pulled into the cul-de-sac, prompting Brian to move closer in my direction. I stopped and bent low behind some thorny bushes, hoping he wouldn’t see me.
He approached the clubhouse pool lot and sat on one of the cement parking bumps. He took out his phone. Was he waiting on someone to pick him up? Someone he didn’t want Mom and Dad seeing?
A few minutes later, I heard footsteps approaching from the other side of the street. I ducked behind another bramble so that no one could see me, but I still had Brian in my view. As the person drew closer, I realized it was Amber. I crouched lower; if she spotted me, she’d offer a greeting and Brian would know I’d followed him.
Since the Jeremy Gus incident, Amber and I hadn’t spent much time together. We’d been growing apart for ages, really. Amber always prioritized status. Her primary goal at school was to be popular. I didn’t think we’d speak at all if it weren’t for living so close.
Brian looked at Amber as she walked in his direction. He stood and slid his phone into his pocket.
“Is that you?” Amber asked. She must be talking to Brian. She would have seen him sitting under the bright streetlight.
“Who else would it be?” he asked.
I moved to my right to get a better view. Brian extended his hands to grab hers. Amber arched onto her toes for extra height and kissed him on the mouth. Not a friendly kiss you see fancy friends exchange. A real, grown-up kiss. The kind of kiss I’d never had. The kind of kiss I could have gone an entire lifetime without seeing Brian have.
“What the hell?” Without thinking, I darted into the street. Any worries I had about Brian disappeared. Amber and my brother? Kissing?
“Della, what are you doing here?” Brian looked genuinely startled, then his face turned furious.
“Are you two, like, dating or something?” I asked, my arms folded over my body.
“Della,” Amber said, taking a step toward me. “We wanted to tell you—”
Brian cut her off, clearly upset. “Della, what are you doing here?”
“I followed you,” I said. I wasn’t worried about Brian anymore. I was angry. Brian wasn’t hiding activities from my parents; he was hiding Amber from me.
“I told you we should have come clean,” Amber mumbled. She gave me a look of pity, but her body language suggested triumph. In Brian, my brother, Amber had finally landed her popular catch.
I turned and made the short sprint back to our house. The front door slammed, shaking the frame and disturbing my parents’ regular nightcap.
“What’s wrong?” Dad asked, putting down his glass.
“Brian isn’t over at Danny’s house,” I said, panting from both my emotions and the quick jog.
“He’s not?” Mom asked from her barstool. She stood just as Brian came in the door behind me.
“Where were you?” Dad asked immediately.
“Della shouldn’t be following me around the neighborhood,” Brian said.
“We’ll deal with that later. If you weren’t at Danny’s house, where were you?” Dad asked.
Brian exhaled. “I was with my girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend?” Mom tried to sound shocked, but the layer of delight was too thick. She was proud of Brian. Impressed.
“Since when do you have a girlfriend?” Dad asked. His tone was calm, but it had an edge.
“It’s been a few months,” Brian said, looking down. “I didn’t want to make a big deal about it.”
“You shouldn’t hide something like that from us,” Mom said.
“You shouldn’t hide anything from us,” Dad corrected.
“I don’t get it,” Mom said, walking after
me. “What are you upset about?”
“Tell them who your girlfriend is, Brian,” I said.
“Amber.” Brian looked at all of us, waiting for approval.
Dad lifted his head, as though everything made sense. Why Brian had lied. Why I was upset. I wasn’t excited with Brian’s first girlfriend being my former best friend. And Mom wasn’t happy about it either.
“What?” she asked, the outrage in her voice returning. She walked toward Brian. “Amber from down the street?”
“Yes.” Brian ran his fingers through his hair. “That’s why there’s no reason for you to worry where I am. We rarely leave the neighborhood.”
“Honey,” Mom said, flattening his hairs in place. “You could do so much better than Amber.”
I felt the urge to defend Amber, despite the fact she’d ditched me as a friend and then secretly dated my brother. Mom didn’t mind her as my best friend, but she clearly thought she was beneath Brian. Really, any girl probably was.
“That’s not the point, Mom.” I stomped upstairs and slammed my bedroom door.
That weekend, Brian agreed to help Mom at some fundraiser downtown, leaving Dad and me alone for the night. I think we were both happy. We needed the occasional absence of Mom’s hysterics and Brian’s moodiness.
Dad sat beside me on the sofa. “Pizza?”
“You read my mind,” I said.
Mom and Brian were still running around the house when we left. We went to our favorite pizzeria. Dad even let me drive, although I wouldn’t officially get my license until I passed the test next month.
Dad and I talked about our usual topics. Music and movies and politics. As we were getting ready to leave, I brought up Brian.
“Do you know Brian has a bunch of knives in his room?” I asked, closing the lid of our takeout box. “Don’t you think it’s weird?”
Dad sipped his drink and cleared his throat before he responded. “Lots of people are interested in weaponry.”
“Out of all the hobbies he could pick up, he has a fascination with knives?”
Dad nodded again. “I think it started with some research assignment for his A.P. history class. He likes tracking weapons and learning the history behind them.”
“Yeah, he told me all about the history.” I folded my arms. “I just think it’s creepy.”
“This interest of his seems to have renewed his spark. I support him. You should, too.”
Me supporting Brian. How was I supposed to maintain a good relationship with someone whose intent was to destroy me? He either mocked my looks or my intelligence or my friends. I even thought he was dating Amber to get under my skin.
“You don’t see how mean he can be sometimes,” I said. “It’s like he’s always cutting me down.”
“He’s an older brother.” He looked at me with knowing eyes. Dad was the youngest of three boys. “That’s what they do.”
“It’s different with him. It’s… darker.” I looked away. I’d given up trying to talk about Brian a long time ago. Never seemed to do any good.
“I know he can be difficult.”
“It’s like no one else sees it,” I admitted. “How mean he can be.”
“I see how he is. But I also see what he’s been through, especially in the last year. Losing basketball was a big deal to him, even if he pretends it wasn’t,” Dad said. “But he shouldn’t take his frustrations out on you. That’s the hardest part of being a parent. You’re always trying to balance what each child needs.”
After dinner, Dad and I watched a movie at the theater. It was after ten when it ended. When we returned to the house, Brian and Mom were standing in the kitchen. They both jumped when we walked in. It looked like Mom had been crying.
“What’s going on?” Dad asked.
Mom looked at me, her face full of remorse. “Honey, we can’t find Pixie.”
I dropped the takeout box onto the counter. “What do you mean you can’t find Pixie?” I stomped up the stairs to my bedroom, then back down. “Pixie! Pixie!”
“She must have run off, honey,” Mom said.
“Pixie’s an inside dog!” I shouted. “She’s never gotten out of the house before.”
Mom looked at Dad, then me. “We were rushing around trying to get everything ready for the banquet. We must have left the back door open.”
“What?” I shimmied into the coat I’d just taken off. My pulse pounded and I started to cry. “Why would you leave the door open? That never happens.”
“Slow down, Della,” Dad said. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to look for her,” I said.
“Honey, we’ve been looking for her. You don’t need to go outside this upset,” Mom said. “Maybe she’ll turn up in the morning.”
“I’ve been circling the neighborhood for an hour looking,” Brian said.
I hadn’t acknowledged him throughout the conversation, but now I did. I really saw him. That smug smile of his was about to break.
“You,” I said. “You did something to her, didn’t you?”
“Della, it’s not like that,” Mom said.
“It’s exactly like that. He’s done something to Pixie. She wouldn’t just run away.”
“What do you think I did to her?” he asked, almost like he was testing me.
“You’ve been dying to get rid of her since I got her. You probably killed her with one of your creepy little knives,” I said.
“Oh, come on,” Mom said. “You sound ridiculous.”
“I know about the squirrel,” I said, looking at all of them. I still didn’t know exactly what happened, but I knew enough. Whatever happened had worried Dad. “He’s hurt animals before.”
Brian stepped closer. He was angry now. “Maybe you should spend more time looking after your dog than following me.”
“This isn’t on me!” I shouted. “I wasn’t even freaking here!”
“Della!” Mom tried to calm me.
“Is that why you did this?” I asked Brian. “Because I outed you and your little girlfriend?”
“I didn’t do anything to your stupid dog. You’re just pissed your best friend would rather spend time with me than you.”
“Hey!” Dad tried to interject.
“She’s my best friend, but even I know she’s the most desperate girl at school. Great catch, Brian,” I said.
“Like I need dating advice from you,” Brian said.
“She’ll have nothing to do with you after I tell her you got rid of Pixie. I’m going to tell everyone at school you’re nothing but a freak,” I said.
Brian lunged at me. He moved quickly, like an animal acting on instinct and nothing else. He pushed me against the wall and tightened his hands around my throat. His pupils were almost entirely black.
Dad grabbed Brian’s shoulders and pulled him away. For a moment, I thought Dad might hit him. I think Dad thought that, too. I’d never seen him with a red face and white knuckles. Dad adjusted his glasses and took a deep breath. Mom wailed.
“Don’t ever touch your sister like that again!” Dad shouted. “Do you hear me?”
Brian pushed Dad in one swift move. Dad didn’t react. I think he already regretted what he’d done, pouncing on Brian like that, even if he was defending me.
Brian stared at all three of us, taking in several replenishing breaths before speaking. He looked at Dad. “If you touch me like that again, I’ll kill you,” he said. He stomped up the stairs, leaving us all in silence, each one of us catching our breath.
I didn’t think Brian meant his threat, and I’m sure he regretted saying it. Apart from anything else, because Dad would be dead within six months.
Twenty-Two
Now
We need to get to the cabin soon. I don’t have to google the forecast to know a storm is settling in. One of those quick, typical spring squalls, but I fear too many fallen branches will block the narrow driveway leading to our lodge. Danny and Violet shake hands before he enters the car. He sits for a
moment, taking a breath before he starts the ignition.
“Do you want to tell me what happened in there?” he asks.
“I just got a little woozy. It’s not a big deal.” I prop my feet on the dash. “Violet shouldn’t have called you.”
“Yes, she should have.” He starts the car and rumbles out of the near-empty parking lot. “And I should have come with you. You fainted, Della. Something must have set you off.”
“I’m fine,” I say, looking out the window. Tiny drops of water sprinkle the glass.
I don’t want to tell Danny that Mom mentioned Brian. Bringing it up will give Brian more attention than he’s worth. Even I don’t know why I had the physical reaction I did. I remember feeling like I was falling, and then Violet was there, helping me off the floor. It’s probably connected to my sick spell this morning.
We pull into a pharmacy parking lot. “I’m going to get you some Tylenol before we head up the mountain,” Danny says. I know he’s trying to shake off his worry and salvage the weekend.
“I’ll go in,” I say, unhooking my seat belt. “Need anything?”
Before he can protest, I’m out of the car. The chilly breeze wooshes past, and I hustle inside. I feel as though I’ve already ruined our weekend. I shouldn’t have insisted on visiting Mom. I’m stressed enough with everything happening at Victory Hills.
I pick up some Tylenol before moving on to the vitamin aisle. I usually take a multivitamin but ran out while we were in Hilton Head. It’s the only change in routine that might account for my funk. That, and the introduction of Zoey into my life, but I’m trying not to think about her.
I close my eyes and imagine it’s still spring break. I remember the sun against my skin, the saltwater in my hair, Danny’s hand holding mine. It’s the last time I felt like life was in balance. As I exhale, I scan the plethora of pills promising to make you healthy and strong. I choose a bottle and start reading the contents. As I put it back, I realize they’re prenatals.
What I Know: An utterly compelling psychological thriller full of suspense Page 14
