Page 39 of Wicked Sins

“Oh, yeah, uh…Is Candace home?”

“She’s sick.” Hopefully, that information will end this torturous exchange sooner rather than later.

“Oh, yeah, actually…” Marissa twists around and starts digging in her backpack.

I drum my fingers on the lintel.

Marissa doesn’t seem to notice. A moment later, she flourishes a thin stack of lined paper. “Thought she’d need some notes from Science class.” Her grin shows more teeth than a shark’s. “Can I come—”

“Thanks,” I say, snatching the papers from her and slamming the door in her face.

Candy isn’t friends with Marissa. She isn’t friends withanyone. For some reason, bubbly and affectionate little Candy Cane seems incapable of making friends at school. I’d feel sorry for her, if I gave a shit.

But I don’t.

“Asshole,” comes Marissa’s muffled voice from the other side of the door.

I smile to myself. You’d think they’d know to avoid me by now, but still, they come. I’m about to toss the stack of papers on the entrance table when something bright pink catches my eye.

!! 4 TEST!!

Fuck,there’s legit a ton of notes on these papers, and quite a lot of it’s been highlighted for the test. I’d get into a world of shit if Candy didn’t get this. After all, it’s not as if she’sactuallysick. She’s detoxing from a weekend spent binging.

How can no one else notice? Especially Dad. I mean, how the fuck does she even play chess if she’s already slurring before they head to the study?

Because they don’t play chess, do they?

I push away the thought. It’s been coming back more and more lately, hanging there, all insidious like. I don’t let it bait me into spending a second longer wasting energy on Candy or my dad.

They can both go to hell.

Except,unfortunately, Dad can make my life hell. Somewhere along the line, he decided that I was Candy’s guardian. I have to take her to school; I have to bring her back. When she sneaks out of the house, I make sure she gets home okay.

When a bunch of guys drug her and do God knows what to her, I make sure no one finds out. It should be because I’m a real dapper guy…but really, it’s just so that I don’t have to suffer the consequences.

I ram open her door without knocking. She’s got her back to me, lying on her bed like she’s sleeping. Her room smells stale, and there’s an underlying hint of booze—the kind where it seeps out through your pores when your liver’s done being the body’s sponge.

“What did you tell them this time?” I ask, tossing down her notes on her bedside table and immediately going over to the window.

She groans when I yank open the curtains, and pulls the sheet over her head. I throw open the window, inhaling fresh air when it gusts into the house. Bale manor was built on a rise, so we get the brunt of the weather when it’s windy outside.

“Close it.” Her whine is muffled by the sheet.

“It stinks in here.”

“Jo…”

I stalk over to the side of her bed, blood ten degrees hotter than before. She gasps when I yank the sheets off her, and then tries to grab them back. I toss them over my shoulder. “You’re pathetic, you know that?”

She scowls at me, but doesn’t argue. Perhaps because she knows it’s the truth.

“You have a test this week.” I point the notes on her side table. “You’d best start studying.”

“Who died and made you king?” she mutters. Then she twists onto her side and pushes the notes off her bedside, hunting through the mess.

“Looking for your pills? Your water?”

“Yeah.”

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