Page 8 of The Spider & the Storm

It was bad enough that he had snuck into the house last weekend, more drunk than I'd ever seen someone—even Dad that one time he’d gone to his friend’s wedding years back. Luke had tripped up the stairs and fallen into my room, giggling like a girl and leaning all his weight against me. Telling me about this girl at his school and how she'd let him feel her boob or something before he threw up all over my T-shirt—twice.

I had never kissed a girl.

I had never felt a boob.

It was weird that Luke had done those things—and probably so much more—and it was weirder how the difference in our experiences somehow put more distance between us.

Maybe I am a kid.

Anyway, I didn't want to go to that party.

I didn't like Luke's friends. They were horrible and cruel, just as they’d always been. But they were older now, meaner, and they made him mean, too, when he was with them.

Luke was quiet now, and I wondered what he was thinking. What did his face look like? Was he mad? I wished Dad would listen to him and Mom. They knew better. They knew I was different. I thought Dad probably knew, too, but he didn't likeit. He wanted me to be normal, more like Luke and more into sports, girls, and cars and less into spiders, bones, and books.

“They don't like him,” Luke muttered, quieter now than before.

“Who's they?” Dad asked.

“Rob, Pat,” Luke replied, like he was counting them off on his fingers. “Tommy … Ritchie …”

“Ritchie?” Mom sounded surprised, like she was clueless about how Luke's best friend picked on me whenever I was around. “Since when?”

“God, seriously?” Luke huffed a disbelieving laugh. “Mom, come on.Nobodylikes Charlie.”

“But Ritchie and Tommy—”

“They don’t like him,” he pressed harder, enunciating every word with purpose.

He said it like he didn't like me either, and that made my throat feel tight, and my bottom lip began to wiggle like a baby. Like akid.

“He's your brother, Luke,” Dad argued. He wasdefinitelyangry now. “And if you're going to that party, you're taking him with you.”

“Dad—”

“End of discussion,” Dad cut him off. I pictured him holding up his hand, halting my brother's protests.

“Come. On!”

“Enough, Lucas! In a second, I'm telling you that you can't go at all, all right? Now, make your decision and live with it!”

Luke growled angrily as footsteps approached the door. I raced down the hallway, my bare feet stamping against the carpet, and I turned into my room, jumping onto my bed and grabbing the book I’d been reading.

My parents' bedroom door opened, and Luke's footsteps came plodding toward my open door. He appeared, his face angry as he pinned me with his glare.

“Get dressed,” he ordered. “Now.”

“Why?” I asked, feigning cluelessness and urging my voice to sound normal and not as breathless as I felt.

He put his entire body into his eye roll. He knew I'd been listening. “Shut the hell up, Charlie. Get ready. We're leaving in two minutes.”

***

“Rob’s parents are out for the night,” Ritchie said in a voice that implied this was the greatest thing to ever happen to them in their lives since they had discovered beer and boobs.

I rolled my eyes the moment the gigantic football player wrapped his arm around Luke's neck.

“You can’t tell my mom,” he added, giggling like a little girl. “She’d bepissed.”

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