Page 18 of The Spider & the Storm

Just a little over a half hour ago, she’d let me know they were leaving the concert venue and going out for a late dinner. She asked if Luke was home, and I lied, saying that he was in his room.

“Okay,” she’d said, a hint of relief in her voice. “Good. So, you’re doing okay then?”

She was worried about me. Mom usually was, and most of the time, I liked it. I liked that she looked out for me and made my comfort a priority in her life, even if it was selfish and babyish of me. But tonight, I didn’t want her to be worried. I wanted to pretend to be a normal kid, like Luke. Courageous and cool, unbothered by his parents taking a night to themselves. All for the sake of letting them be happy.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Mom,” I’d answered, and I smiled. Because I had actually sounded like I was.

But, no, I wasn’t. And now, forty minutes after hearing her voice, I was sitting on the couch, bouncing my legs and chewing on my nails while I stared ahead at some stupid show on MTV.

“Do people really like this shit?” I muttered to myself in a shaky voice as a bunch of college kids made out around a pool.

Then, the front door opened, and I jumped up from the couch to see who’d come home.

Luke walked into the living room, hair disheveled and eyes red.

“Oh, hey,” he greeted me, his voice sleepy and gravelly. “Sorry I’m kinda late—”

“Kinda?!” I shouted, shrill, releasing every bit of panic I’d been suppressing all night. “Dad told you to be homehoursago!”

Luke furrowed his brow and crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah, well, Dad isn’t here, is he?”

“So?!”

“So”—he took a couple of steps toward me, reeking of weed and beer and Melanie’s perfume—“I went out for a while and had some fun.”

I clenched my fists and looked into his eyes. He wasn’t much taller than me now—only a couple of inches. But he was still bigger, stronger. He probably always would be. But right now, I was ready to kick his ass, and, dammit, I wanted to.

“You were supposed to be here with me!”

Luke dropped his arms and rolled his eyes, already turning to walk away. “Oh, grow the hell up, Charlie. Seriously. Do yourself and everyone else a favor and—”

I lunged at him, throwing my body against his and knocking him onto the carpeted floor. My hands slapped at his face, my fingers gripped his hair, and I got in a couple of good tugs before he shoved me off and onto the coffee table.

“Fuck!” Luke shouted, rubbing at his scalp as he scrambled to get to his feet. “God, you little asshole. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I was worried about you!” I cried, feeling stupid as my eyes welled up. I got off the coffee table and sat on the couch as I brushed the hair off my forehead. “You said you’d be home, and I didn’t know where you were. I should’ve freakin’knownyou’d rather get high and have sex than be with me. Why the hell would I—”

“Charlie,” Luke interrupted, his tone much softer than before. He took a deep breath, then continued, “I’m sorry, okay? I lost track of time, and, yeah, I was smoking and drinking and …” He scratched the back of his head, then brushed the hair off his forehead. “Anyway, you’re right. I should’ve been back. I said I would be, and I wasn’t, so … I’m an asshole, and I’m sorry.”

I sniffed and wiped my eyes. “It’s okay.”

“Did you eat?”

“No,” I muttered. “You said you’d bring something for me.”

His expression of guilt deepened. “Shit, I forgot.”

“Mom left money on the counter for pizza, but …”

I didn’t need to say that the pizza place wouldn’t be open now. We both already knew. I should’ve called earlier, I realized, but I hadn’t been hungry then, too distracted by my panic. But now, with Luke home, I was suddenly aware of the grumbling from deep in my stomach.

“Come on,” he said, gesturing for me to follow him as he turned toward the kitchen. “I’m making some grilled cheese sandwiches. Want one?”

“Yeah, okay,” I said, standing and letting him lead the way. “Sounds good.”

***

We had found the censored version of a movie on cable TV—The Shawshank Redemption—and we’d been watching for twenty minutes as we ate our sandwiches. Then, we sprawled out on either end of the L-shaped sectional and tried to focus on Andy Dufresne and his escape from prison, but my eyes kept drifting toward the clock.

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