Page 95 of Vicious Sentiments

Margo is at the arch of the kitchen, talking to a man holding a pile of fake bones. She’s reaching up, demonstrating how she wants them as the man nods along. She can’t hear the little conversation, but she already knows what happened.

We were up for another hour in the kitchen last night while she held an ice pack to Dillon’s face and scolded Cape. Dillon sank against herchest like a small wounded child, when he did in fact ask for it. All he had to do was keep his mouth shut and leave but he couldn’t help himself.

It’s not long till Marney has me locked in her room and sitting on the floor. She’s standing over me, moussing my hair this way and that. The floor is littered with bobby pins, and I don’t know if I should be worried about looking in a mirror.

I’m glad that Julian and Cape had to ‘run an errand’, and Marney still has to do their bear makeup. It will give me time to calm my nerves. I’ve never been to a Halloween party and while I’m sure it’s probably most of Marney’s friends from ballet or school, I’m still not sure how I’m going to fare. But I suppose this will be preparation for whatever my birthday is going to hold.

Marney has been surprisingly silent, so when she speaks, I startle.

“Why did Cape punch Dillon?” she asks, and I frown.

I can tell by her tone that she’s trying to sound nonchalant but there’s a bit of hurt there, and I can understand why. She may love Cape, but Dillon is her blood brother.

I swallow through the taste of hairspray, not really sure how to explain it. Cape shouldn’t have reacted the way he did. but Dillondidpress his buttons.

“Was it because of Margo?” she asks before I can formulate a response, and I’m left even more confused on what to say.

“What do you mean… because of Margo?” All I can picture are the three holes in the wall of Margo’s room.

“You have to promise not to say anything.” She slips a pin against my skull and I flinch. “Sorry,” she chirps. “But you have to swear.”

“Well…” I draw out the word. God, why do I suddenly feel so uncomfortable? “It depends what you’re talking about…”

She huffs and comes around to face me. “I’m serious. You can’t tell Julian, or Cape. You have to promise.”

Her pure little face is etched in lines that make me apprehensive. I’m already keeping a secret from Cape and Julian about Dillon. Do I really want to tack onto that?

“You’re the only one I can tell, please?” She kneels down in front of me. Oh, god. What am I supposed to do here if I’m the only one she can tell?

“Okay,” I say slowly, not one-hundred percent sure I’m going to stick to this promise.

She looks at me like she knows this but whatever is weighing on her gets the better of her.

“I think Cape punched Dillon because Dillon likes Margo.”

I blink. And then I blink again. My lips part but words don’t come out. Of course, I’ve thought about it. There are little things here and there that seem a bit creepy, like the way he flirts with her sometimes and the odd way he rested his head on her chest last night. But I think I chalked it up to overkill, trying to make up for not being Margo’s blood and win out over Cape and Julian, her real sons.

“Likes?” I ask, just to make sure she means what I think she means.

“It’s so gross. I know it’s sooo gross, and I think that’s what happened last night.”

I suck my lips in. “Cape punched Dillon because he called Cape…” Jeez, am I supposed to say ‘sick fucks’? But I don’t want her thinking it’s because of some seriously twisted crush.

“It was because of me.” I backtrack. “I caused a bit of… Well, you know they are always fighting. It didn’t have anything to do with Margo.”

I keep my mouth shut about the night I caught Dillon in Margo’s room, even though I’m seeing it in a whole new light. Marney doesn’t need to be thinking that her brother likes her godmother.

She tilts her head and raises an eyebrow at me, clearly not believing me.

“I’m not lying,” I say. “He punched him in my room. It had nothing to do with Margo.” And then I can’t help myself. “Why do you think Dillon likes Margo?” What has she seen that I haven’t?

“He’s different with her than how Cape or Julian are.”

“Well, I mean… he’s not…” Why are my armpits sweating? “He’s just probably trying to—”

“Sometimes he stares at her. The way Kirby stares at Bellemy.”

“Who is Kirby?” I squint. I’m not doing well in this conversation. My mind is spinning out of control, putting one and two together, trying to remember every time I’ve even seen Dillon smile at Margo, and simultaneously trying to preserve any innocence Marney has left.

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