Page 42 of Protecting the Nerd

I took a deep breath, stepped forward, and faced my tormentor, the man who had made my life utter hell. Crap, I’d forgotten to buy flowers, which I usually did to make my mother happy. Too late now.

With my head bowed and jaw locked, I counted the appropriate seconds to appear like I was mourning, then raised my head again and stepped back. Quillon took my place, standing ramrod straight as he brought a slow salute, his face a mask. My parents wept harder.

The others followed, standing still for a minute or so, Tomás and Tiago together and the rest one by one. None of them had brought flowers, and now my mom noticed it too.

“You should’ve brought flowers,” she gently scolded Fir.

Fir made a noncommittal sound.

She turned to me. “Why didn’t you bring something for him?”

“I forgot.”

“It’s not right.”

Oh, Jesus, why was she making this harder? “I’ll remember next time.”

Quillon tensed. He’d been discreetly keeping an eye on our surroundings the whole time, not letting me out of his sight other than for his brief moment of saluting Essex. The two FBI agents—Quillon had pointed them out to me a few days earlier—stayed at a distance, pretending to walk around the cemetery but watching over us as well.

“I’m disappointed in you, York. One day a year for your brother isn’t too much to ask, is it?”

I clenched my teeth so hard I was surprised the enamel didn’t break off.

“If it had been you, he would’ve honored you.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” Fir mumbled, and I slapped my hand over my mouth. What was he doing? The others were looking at each other in alarm.

But my mother hadn’t heard him, or if she had, she ignored him, continuing to berate me in front of everyone. “He was your big brother, York. He loved you so much.”

Anger tasted bitter on my tongue, and a strange buzzing filled my ears.

“He never complained when you were little and followed him around. For all his life, he was your protector.”

No, he wasn’t. The buzz grew louder.

“He never let you down, and I’m so disappointed you can’t even honor him one day a year.”

Something snapped inside me. “No, he wasn’t,” I whispered.

She frowned. “What?”

Louder now. “He was never my protector.”

“I don’t underst?—”

“You made up this whole story about how much he loved me and protected me when the truth is that he didn’t give two shits about me, or if he ever did, he sure as fuck knew how to hide it.”

Oh my god, what was I saying? The words were rolling off my lips, emerging from this place deep inside me that had been locked away all these years. And now I could no longer contain them.

“York!” my father said. “How dare you talk about your brother like?—”

“It’s the truth.” Fir stepped forward and stood next to me. I couldn’t describe what it did to me to have him on my left while Quillon flanked my right. For the first time, I didn’t feel alone anymore.

“Fir, what…?” My mother looked from Fir to me and back. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“He was a bully.” I spat the words out and almost threw up with the force of them. “A mean, violent bully who picked on me when I was little and tormented me when I got bigger.”

My mother paled. “I can’t believe you’d say that. Why would you make up lies about your brother?”

---