Page 96 of Employing Patience

“Tomorrow.” Mariana leans in a little. “Don’t make me have to live through hearing about any more of my brother’s, uh, adventures.”

“He’s very anti-relationship,” I point out.

“No, he isn’t. He’s very anti-pointless relationships. That’s why he never puts in the effort.”

Mariana leaves with the kids giggling behind her, waving and calling that they’ll see me tomorrow. It already feels like a mistake, but if Art’s annoyed with me being there, I’ll tell him Mariana forced me into it under threats of much, much bodily pain, and then I’ll bolt.

Solid, mature plan, if I say so myself.

Freddy hands over the address Mariana left with him as I clock out to leave, and I punch it into my phone to look up. It’s not far, which is perfect. Easy fleeing distance is a must.

When I get home, Hannah’s still there getting ready for school. She’s dyed her hair black and has an arm full of bands and an ear full of piercings, but she’s smiling for the first time in a while.

“You look happy,” I comment.

“It happens sometimes.”

I laugh. “Not usually when I’m around.”

Hannah straightens and eyes me. “What?”

Well, I might as well come out with it. “You’re always snappy with me these days.”

“Urg, it’s not you. It’s …” She huffs and drops her bag onto the couch. “This year has sucked. For all of us.”

The thing is, a month or so ago, I might have agreed with her. “It’s only a rough patch.”

“Can it be called that when everything keeps getting worse?” she throws back.

“Like what?”

“Like … like everything. I only scraped a pass in my exams, I’m in the same clothes I was wearing junior year, I’m about to graduate and go off to college, and all I keep thinking about is how you’ll be here. By yourself. With no one to look out for you. Amelia left us, and I’m going next, and then what? Who will make sure you eat? Who’ll check over your coursework? Who’s going to be here, making sure you’re doing something other than working and studying?” Hannah plants her hands on her hips.

I blink at her. “You’re worried … about me?”

“Obviously. You’re working yourself into the ground. Sometimes it’s like I’m the parent around here. You’re out of control.”

I must be in some kind of alternate universe. “Me? You’re the one constantly going out all the time.”

“To study group. To stop myself from failing.”

“Wait. You weren’t out killing your liver and tempting teen pregnancy?”

She screws up her face. “Please. With the mom and dad we had? I know what a condom is, Joey.”

I cringe because that word should never come out of my sister’s mouth. Ever. Though, I have to concede it’s better than a baby coming out of her hoo-hah.

“Rewind a minute, because all year, I’ve thought you were on a one-way track to bad choices.”

“Eww, why?”

“The attitude, the suddenly alt-goth look, you never wanting to talk to me …”

“Haven’t you always taught me not to judge someone by how they look? Hypocrite, much?”

“Ha. See? There.” I point her way. “Attitude.”

“Yeah, because this year you’ve been behaving like a big fucking baby. It’s frustrating.”

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