Page 18 of Pretend for Me

“How the hell did this happen? I can’t believe you. You’re grounded for the rest of the year. And you can forget about that silly art class at the library,” Helen resounded.

Matthew knew how hard Cassie had pleaded with Helen to let her take the class. She even asked Mrs. Baker to help seal the deal. But now, with this mess, she’d be lucky if she could leave the house before Christmas and it was August.

“I’m so sorry. Please, Miss Helen. I love art class!” Cassie was hysterically crying by this point.

Matthew did what he had grown accustomed to doing—he took the blame. Cassie was often mad when he got in trouble for her messes, but he couldn’t watch her suffer.

“Helen, er … Miss Helen, it was my fault Mr. Sprinkles got out, and I told Cassie to climb the tree, and then she fell. I’m very sorry.” Matthew peered down, afraid to look at Cassie.

“Matthew, that’s not—” Cassie began.

“Cassie, go to the car.” Helen took the keys from Aaron and then looked to Matthew, who shuffled from side to side. “You’re going to get it once I get back.”

Matthew nodded. There was no use in fighting the inevitable.

Once Helen was gone, and Aaron was back in his bedroom, Flynn started laughing and clapping his hands at Matthew.

“Bravo! What a hero, protecting the pathetic baby. Such a good boyfriend. I told Mom and Dad that you both snuck out and how you let Mr. Sprinkles escape. I get to have my curfew extended because of that shit,” Flynn taunted him.

At almost eleven years old, the aggressive boy still hadn’t matured. If anything, Flynn had made a turn for the worse. The anger management counseling three times a week did nothing for him.

“I’m not her boyfriend. She’s my best friend. And she’s not a baby!” Matthew was pissed that he was in this position in the first place, but he wasn’t about to have his annoying foster brother make things worse for them.

“Boys aren’t friends with girls. No real man would ever help a girl!”

Matthew knew he was going to be up early to do his daily chores, plus whatever Helen decided was adequate compensation for his indiscretions, so he made his way to bed. This would be one of Matthew’s first nights alone in two years. Thankfully Helen never checked on the children at night, so she was never the wiser about the pair sharing a bed. Lana and Flynnstarted sneaking into each other’s room last year which made the chances of him ratting them out slim to none.

Rain hit the house’s siding, which should have lulled Matthew to sleep. Unfortunately, he had difficulty dozing off. In fact, before Cassie came along, he never got a full night’s rest. When he did sleep, the dreams—more like nightmares—took over.

Next thing Matthew knew he was being shaken vigorously. He heard a voice whispering to him, almost pleading. He tried to reposition himself, thinking this was part of his dream.

“Matty. Matty,” the voice bellowed.

Matthew’s eyes popped open. It was Cassie leaning over him, looking very concerned. Once his breathing regulated, he realized that his forehead was dripping.

She gave him a hug and resumed dabbing a wet washcloth on his forehead with the arm that wasn’t in a cast. Having been witness to this a few times, Cassie quickly learned how to help her friend.

“Thank you. I’m sorry,” Matthew whispered, looking Cassie up and down, assessing her injuries. The little girl had a cast on her arm, a bandage on her neck where a tree branch scraped her, and a worried frown on her face. Matthew didn’t want her to frown.

“I’m sorry, Matthew. Helen’s going to hurt you tomorrow. Why did you lie again? You didn’t do anything wrong? It was all me.” Cassie hung her head.

The pair was a mess. They both couldn’t picture the other hurt but still made trouble for one another. It was a theme that would likely carry on into adulthood.

“I can handle it, Cassie. You know what happened last time Helen hit you.” Matthew shuddered, just thinking about the incident.

Matthew decided to go and get a snack from the downstairs kitchen when Cassie finally fell asleep next to him. He peered around the corner as he walked down the stairs, continuing until he heard voices.

“Can you believe the hospital was asking me questions about her history? Like I’m supposed to know if her mother or father had a history of any diseases or shit?” Helen sat at the kitchen counter with her back to Matthew, whereas Aaron was inside the fridge, digging for his last beer.

“What’d you expect? Weren’t they like fifteen when they had the brat?” Aaron snorted.

“They were sixteen. Far as I could find out, they’d dropped out since they didn’t have any family to help with the kid. There was an ‘uncle’ who was older, I think. They got into some shady business together and mixed up with the wrong crowd.”

“Aren’t they all rotting in jail?” Aaron asked unsympathetically.

“No, the parents are dead. The uncle got locked up for murder and trying to run off with the girl. He was sentenced to life, which might not be that much longer. Mrs. Baker said that he has gang ties. They all want him dead,” Helen said matter-of-factly.

Matthew didn’t like how they were talking about Cassie’s family. He heard a different version from Cassie—that her uncle Maverick had locked her in the bathroom when some bad people had come to take her—and despite knowing that life was way more challenging than Cassie wanted to believe, he wouldn’t correct her. She needed to believe in something, unlike him.

---