Page 216 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

“You ever wish you could just go back to the way things used to be?” I ask quietly, sitting forward and resting my elbow on my knee as I drag at my cigarette.

Marcus is quiet for the longest time. “Man, you gotta get Jessica out of your fucking head.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“It is easy for me to say.” Marcus sits forward in a rush, leaning forward until I look at him. “Get over her. Shit happened, we dealt with it, it’s done.”

I let out a soft huff. “So why the fuck does it keep coming up to bite me in the ass?”

Marcus laughs. “You honestly think it will just go away? It’ll always be there, man, but you just gotta ignore it. If anyone had shit on you, it would have surfaced by now. It’s been months, bro. Christ, almost a year, actually.” He sits back in his seat, cigarette dangling from his mouth, and stares at me as if daring me to argue with his impeccable logic.

“When the fuck is the pizza getting here?” I mutter.

“I dunno. How long since you ordered?”

I twist to face him. “Me? You said you’d call.”

We stare at each other for a second before bursting out laughing.

“Ah, fuck this shit,” Marcus says. “Don’t know about you, but I’m done.”

“Yeah, fuck,” I murmur, still smiling as I get to my feet. I wobble a bit, and Marcus slings his arm around my shoulder. We hold onto each other as we make our unsteady way back to the mansion, dodging rose bushes and concrete statues in the likeness of cherubs and shit.

“You ever think what it would be like to have a brother or a sister?” I ask idly.

The fuck was in that rum?

“Nope.”

“Never? I’d have liked a brother.”

“Younger or older?”

“Younger. Don’t need anyone lording shit over me, you know?”

Marcus lets out a huff of a laugh.

“We’d have been good brothers,” I say, flicking his ear.

“Doubt it. We’d probably have hated each other’s guts.” Marcus clears his throat. Maybe he’s feeling all emotional and shit too. I’ll have to make a note never to touch that brand of rum of again. “Plus, you can’t choose your family. It’s what makes life so much fun.” With his flat tone, I know exactly where his mind has detoured.

By the time we make it upstairs, that last inch of rum I downed is blurring the world around me. I’m distantly aware of Marcus helping me stumble to my bed, murmuring something about no fucking way he was tucking me in, bros or no, and then he’s gone.

Before sleep takes me, I swear I hear the sound of low, electronic beeps.

Beep, beep, beep, beep.

Did I lock the front door? Maybe Marcus is pinning in the key—I’m sure he knows it by now.

Fuck it—if someone breaks in, they’ll have to deal with me and Marcus. Even drunk, we’d beat them to a fucking pulp.

Chapter Ten

Indi

Marigold looks up when I come thundering down the stairs and into the dining room the next morning. She called me down for breakfast fifteen minutes ago, but I lost my appetite when I remembered the hellhole I had to attend today.

“I need clothes,” I say, shifting my hips to the side and crossing my arms over my chest. “And a longer skirt.”

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