The lights flicker before they go out completely, sending me into a darkness so thick it’s almost pulsing. Suds fall into my eye, mid-shampoo. I bite down on my bottom lip to hold back my shriek of frustration.
Rick said he would pay the electricity this month. So much for our good, ole’ brother keeping his word.
This scenario feels familiar.
Raising our hopes only to let us down? He may not have grown up with mom, but the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
The suds are a sticky sensation crawling down the side of my face. I flick the moisture away. Anger surges in me, but it’s not aimed at Rick. It’s a poison-tipped arrow that I can only stab in my own chest.
I’m the idiot for taking him at his word.
Over the past few months, our surprise brother proved that he can fill in mom’s shoes perfectly.
Okay, that’s unfair.
At least Rick doesn’t steal our grocery money so he can have a midnight rendezvous with the local crack dealer.
Small mercies are still mercies.
I flail my arms in search of the faucet. The moment it turns on, I get hit with a spray straight from the North Pole.
The hot water cut out ages ago. If we want a warm bath, we have to warm water in a kettle first and pour it in the tub. Since it takes so many extra steps, Viola and I both cut out baths and do showers only.
I shudder under the cold rain and angrily scratch at the soap and suds. My dearest wish is for my baby sister to have a warm bath in a nice, non-rusted tub. Why does it feel like such a fantasy?
Grabbing my towel from the rack, I wrap it around myself and then feel my way through the dark. The bathroom doesn’t have any windows so all I’ve got to guide me is memory.
“Ow!” I stub my toe on something. Peering down, I feel around the object. “What is the scale doing here?” I grumble. “Viola.”
Feeling helpless, irritated and close to tears, I wrench the bathroom door open and come face to face with a blinding light. I throw up my hands to save my eyeballs just as that someone turns the flashlight on herself.
I spy ghostly pale skin, dark hair falling messily, and lips dripping in blood.
I let out a glass-shattering scream.
A familiar yelp rattles my ears in return.
When I realize it’s my sister, I snap my mouth shut. “Vi, what happened to your face?”
“I was mid makeup routine when the lights cut!” She huffs, stomping to punctuate her dismay. “Didn’t you pay the electric bill?”
“Rick said he’d handle it this month.” I take her phone from her and lead the way to the kitchen.
“And you believed him?” Her crazy, made-up face has ‘are you stupid?’ stomped all over it.
The tears that had been dutifully making their way to my eyeballs are halted by a wave of embarrassment. It’s one thing to know I messed up, but to be called out by a thirteen year old is another level of horrifying.
I take the responsibility of being an older sibling very seriously. Everything I’ve done since Vi was born has been to shield her from the harsh realities of our life.
I don’t want her to become as jaded as I am. I want her to be free. To have a normal childhood, one that was nothing like mine.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it,” I say, rummaging around the kitchen drawers for the candles.
Mrs. Dorothy, our elderly next door neighbor, gave me a few. She makes candles as a side-hustle to help feed her three grandchildren. Her daughter got pregnant at sixteen, twenty, and twenty-one and then she dipped, leaving all the kids with her ailing mom.
I bet mom would have done that too if our grandmother hadn’t died of heartbreak and disappointment first.
“How are you going to do that?” Viola demands.
“That’s not your problem to worry about,” I answer back in a firm tone.
Grabbing a match box, I strike the match against it. The flames spark to life. Such a tiny flicker and yet the darkness lessens instantly, as if it can’t handle the heat.
“Do you want me to talk to him?” Viola presses. “After mom died, he hasn’t been around.”
Pain knifes me in the gut, but I hide it quickly. “All you need to do is focus on your homework.” I reach out and smear my thumb across the mess on her bottom lip. “Stop wasting time with makeup tutorials.”
“It’s not wasting time. Once I go viral, I’m going to rake in a ton of money and buy us a mansion.” She tips her chin up, eyes sparkling with all the hope of a thirteen year old with a dream.
I’m only five years older than her, but I can’t help the weariness I feel when I see her fresh-faced enthusiasm. The world is going to knock that right out of you, Vi.
Hell, I could do it myself. But, like the plucky little flame that stands alone in the darkness, I want to protect her light for as long as possible.
I draw closer to my sister and tug at her hair. “Fine. A mansion sounds nice.”
“Right?” She smiles prettily.
“You can do all the makeup filming and beauty vlogging you want, but make sure your homework’s done first.”
“How am I supposed to do my homework in the dark?”
I tap the table where the lone candle is sitting. “Right here. It’s just for tonight. The power will be back on soon. Think of it as a…” I drum up a smile, “camping adventure. Huh? How cool is this?”
“Unbelievable.” She rolls her eyes, but a tiny smile plays at the corner of her lips.
I tap her phone. “I’ll keep this until I can get to my room.”
Her eyes widen. She shoots from the table and pounces on it. “No, no, no, no.”
The alarm bells start going off in my head. “Why don’t you want me to use your phone?”
“I…”
I move the device out of her reach and flick through the tabs. “What’s on here?”
“Nothing,” she says guiltily.
As if on cue, a video of none other than Zane Cross pops up on my sister’s phone screen. He’s in a dark background with some kind of mood light reflecting white and giving his tan skin a natural glow.
And there’s a lot of his skin glowing.
Because he’s naked from the top all the way down to the V-lines disappearing beneath his sagging sweatpants.
Zane flashes the camera a lusty look. His eyes are at half-mast and his lips are glistening. As he moves his hips in a slow, undulating roll, he lip syncs, “Baby, you know you’re the only one I want. You like that?’
“Oh my gosh!” Viola jumps on me, snatches the phone and huddles it close to her chest.
I’m so shocked, I don’t even know how to react. “What the hell is that?”
“It’s not what you think okay?”
“I don’t even know what to think!”
“I’m not thirsting after Zane Cross.” She pauses and thinks about it. “Okay, maybe I kind of am.” Her voice rises in pitch. “But look at him? Who wouldn’t?”
I take a threatening step forward.
She inches backward. “But that’s not why I’m studying his videos.” Her words spew out in a rush. “I need to grow my makeup channel quickly so I can get monetized. The best way to do that is to collab with a popular account and since Zane has, like, a bajillion views and you’re going to the same school, I thought—”
“Whoa. What makes you think that us going to the same school means anything?”
Her big brown eyes peer into mine. “He’s one third of The Kings, one of the hottest bands in town and you guys are probably, like, a few lockers away from each other. ”
“And?”
She arches a brow. “Haven’t you seen them around?”
“Not once.” I shake my head. Not that I’m looking for them. I stared Dutch Cross right in the eyes at the back-to-school showcase which is something I rarely do. I plan to avoid him especially. I can’t take the chance that he recognizes me.
Viola’s mouth droops in disappointment. “Can’t you introduce me to him? Please. It’ll really help me out.”
I snatch the phone back from her. “Homework. Now.”
She pouts.
I whirl around. “And don’t you even think of contacting Zane. A thirteen year old girl has no business interacting with his kind of content. Ever.”
She stomps her foot, but she doesn’t talk back. Since mom wasn’t much of a disciplinarian—or cook or chaperone or much of anything really—I’ve been doing most of the child rearing. I’m not sure whether I’m doing a good job or not. I just know that no one will look out for us if I don’t.
When I’m back in my bedroom, I set the phone on the bed. Temptation wells within me. I’m curious to see if Zane has any new content. Maybe with his brother Dutch.
My thumb hovers over the phone, but I come back to my senses quickly. I fling the phone away like it’s contaminated and pick up my own device.
Rick’s number is one of the few in my contacts list.
A part of me wonders if he’ll bother picking up, and I’m slightly surprised when he does.
“What do you want, Cadence?”
I can hear the reluctance in his tone and my pride stings. But this isn’t about begging. This is about him making promises and not keeping them.
“You said you’d help with the electricity this month. You know I’m scrambling to come up with Vi’s school fees.”
“Something else came up,” he says irritably.
I rub the bridge of my nose. “Fine. That’s okay. But you could have told me. I thought that was one thing off my shoulders and I didn’t plan for it. The least you could have done was given me a heads-up that plans had changed.”
“Damn, Cadence. What do you think this is? A charity? I had my own responsibilities before you two came along.”
My eyelashes flutter. I dig my fingers into the phone. “You’re right.” I scrape the bottom of my heart to find the last shred of calm and inject it into my voice. “I’m sorry. We won’t bother you or your busy life again.”
With that, I hang up the phone.
Then I slam it on the bed. Over and over and over. Until the storm in my chest settles into a simmering volcano.
My breath ragged, I straighten and bat my long brown hair away from my face. Mom’s ‘help’ fell through, as I predicted it would.
But that’s okay. We’ve always had to fend for ourselves. Nothing’s changed with mom gone.
I gave Rick the benefit of the doubt because we’re half-siblings. But now there’s a snowball chance in hell that I ask that man for anything.
Jinx: You still haven’t replied to my welcome message, New Girl. I trade secrets for secrets. Wanna play?
Cadence: I don’t know who the hell you are, but I’m not interested in your twisted games. Don’t text me again or I swear I’ll find you and I will skin you alive.
