Page 164 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

We can see most of the Littlerock Valley from this balcony. The spires of the Divine Radiance church, the town bell in its much smaller tower in the center of Cinderhart Square. Pyrite Glen’s rows of modular and single-family homes. Even the more upper-class areas of Jackleg Valley. Outbye is hidden behind an outcrop of the Littlerock mountains, and I often wonder if that’s on purpose. It would have been a terrible eyesore if it was visible from here.

“How are you holding up?” I ask her softly.

She watches me blow out a stream of smoke, and then shrugs one thin shoulder. “As well as can be expected.” She gives me a brief twitch of a smile. “Thank you for being there for them. Some days I just can’t handle their...”

“Relentless enthusiasm?”

She turns away, giving the world a sardonic laugh. “You’re too smart by half.”

“And you should stop pining.”

Her mouth solidifies into a line. “You’re right.” Mom sighs. “Iknowyou’re right. But it feels different this time.”

“So what if it is?” I crush out the rest of my cigarette in the ashtray and walk up to her, leaning on the railing. “We’re fighters, not victims.”

When I glance at her, she swipes a knuckle against her cheek and my heart sinks into my fucking stomach. “Why are you crying?” My voice is too rough, too harsh, but I can’t reign myself in. “Mom, you should behappy.”

“Oh, Knox, sweetie.” She shakes her head, her face crumpling up. “It’s not as easy as that.” She glances at me, gives me a sad smile. “You’ll understand one day.”

I dodge when she tries to pat my cheek, and her eyes flare in surprise. “Sweetie?”

“You should behappy.”

Her face turns to stone, a most familiar deadness flooding her eyes. “Think about the dance,” she says. “It’ll mean a lot to me.”

My jaw bunches, but I don’t get a chance to reply because my phone rings. I turn, stepping inside her bedroom as I answer. “Yeah?”

“There’s a young lady here claiming you’ve done some very bad things,” a voice grates into my ear.

Shit. Not twenty-four hours after we decide to stop stalking Nim and she gets up to mischief.

“Is she still there?”

“Not for long,” the voice says. “I’d hurry if I was you.”

Chapter 30

Silas

“Lunch!” my mother yells.

Richard squeals like a gutted pig, using my lap to launch off toward the door. I’d been reading to him from an old storybook, the one he carried out to the front door when I came home an hour ago. I groan, cupping my now aching balls as I watch my brothers stream out of my room for lunch.

Myroom is a bit of a misnomer. It hasn’t beenminefor years now. Thomas, the eldest, moved in the same day I left for CA. Some of my old stuff is still here—certificates duct-taped to the walls, a few trophies stuck wherever there was a flat surface not covered in books. Although many of them have since disappeared. Most likely pawned, like my old computer.

I can’t fault my parents for selling whatever they could. They have a hard enough time keeping this saggy roof over my three little brothers’ heads. Feeding those three sods would put a dent in anyone’s coffer, even Knox’s.

Fuck, if it wasn’t for him, we’d have lost this tiny house years ago.

By the time I get down to the kitchen, there’s half a sandwich left for me. Richard and Seth are sitting on the floor in front of the black and white television, Thomas next to Pa on the two-seater couch…the only furniture in there that hasn’t been re-purposed from old produce crates.

“Here,” I tell Ma, handing her the PB and J sandwich that somehow survived the Miller termites.

She pushes the sandwich away. “Already eaten, pumpkin pie.”

“You had a whole pumpkin pie to yourself?” I tease. “Don’t let Tommy hear that.”

Ma chuckles, batting me away when I try and feed her the sandwich. Thankfully, she doesn’t embarrass either of us much longer, taking the bread from me and nibbling at it like she could have gone a week without eating.

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