Page 10 of Oh, Flutz!

“Fine,” Katya snaps, getting up and shrugging on her coat (also black, surprise). “Just don’t expect me to slow down for thisgandon.”

She gets up, pushing past Juliet to leave through the door.

I just turn to Lian, mouth slightly agape. “Did she just call me a condom?”

Chapter Four

BRYAN

The answer was yes,by the way. An hour later, I’m slamming the front door behind me.

“Yo, I’m home!” I yell out into the house, dropping my bags and shucking off my boots and gloves, before trying to unzip my puffer coat with frozen fingers. Finally my knuckles thaw enough to free myself, and I rub my hands together as I let the heated air of the house wash over me. Every frugal bone in my mom’s body evaporates the second the thermostat dips below sixty, and after a long day at the rink in the middle of January, coming home feels like walking into a toaster.

I hear the unmistakable clattering of nails against the kitchen tile, and when I turn back around, I get tackled by an extremely large lump of fur.

“Hey, Ruby!” Ruby’s the other family golden retriever, and we really do share an uncanny resemblance. We’re both big, blondish, will eat anything and everything, and are hyper to the point that we have to be medicated. “Okay, okay! Down, girl.” Ruby lets out an irritated bark but stops trying to do a doggie dance with me, and I lean down and scratch behind her ears. “Come on. Let’s go find Alex.”

“Dude, you aren’t gonnabelievewhat happened today.” I trudge straight over to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator and leaning against the door as I hunt for something to eat. I glance over my shoulder towards the sounds of reality TV coming from the living room. “Seriously, you’re gonna get a kick out of this. My total suffering is your favorite kind of entertainment.”

“Shut up and get over here, you’re gonna wake up Mom.”

“You mean she’shome?”

“Look who’s talking.”

I roll my eyes, reaching in to grab the milk and a Tupperware of recently defrosted Thanksgiving pumpkin pie, balancing them under my chin before kicking the door shut behind me and heading over. Ruby chases after me, tongue lolling and tail wagging as she stares hungrily at the pie.

“Bring me a fork, too.”

I glare at her, but oblige.

My sister is probably the most chaotic fifteen-year-old in history, which is saying something because when Oliver and I were that age I was sure no one could ever have us beat. Alexandra is a 5’3 ginger with Pippi Longstocking braids and the personality of a very aggressive hamster. Like me, she plays an ice sport.Unlikeme, it’s hockey. Mostly because she had to spend so much time bored out of her mind at the rink because of me, back when she wasn’t old enough to stay home alone. Our mom didn’t waste a second trying to coax her into figure skates, just handed her Dad’s old stick and puck and sent her on her way. She only plays for the season on the high school team, but I for one appreciate that she can channel some of her rage out on the ice so I don’t have to get smacked around so much.

I’m armed with twin forks, and I plunk myself down on the couch that’s seen and a half of frozen dinners, Bachelor marathons, and tickle fights that end with a lot of shrieking (Alex) and crying (me). If you squint at the fabric, you can spot the dime-sized spatters of brown where she bashed my nose one time.

We tend to take things very seriously in the Young household.

Ruby jumps on top of us, and I hand my sister her fork and the container, setting the milk down on the coffee table. I’m about to dive straight into my rant about today, but before I can get into it, a question springs out of me. “How’s Dad?”

My sister shrugs, unbothered. “Same as always.”

“Right.” I don’t know why I asked. “How are you?”

She cracks a grin. “Same as always.”

I laugh, and she shakes her head, smiling. “I got my leftovers and my corny shows, so, all good.”

“I can’t believe you finished the red velvet without me. Rude.”

“Your own fault for moving out, jerk. Anyway, what about you?”

I kick my feet up on the coffee table. “It has been alongfucking day.”

“Spill,” Alexandra says, raising a brow as she flicks her eyes back to the lineup of white bread people onscreen who probably all peaked in college.

Not that I would know. I didn’t go to college, something that my parents will forever give me grief about. I know a handful of people who somehow manage to balance training and a whole Ivy League education, but I can’t imagine. I graduated high school by the skin of my teeth, and that was after I got on meds and had a better handle on it. I guess I used all my miracles up on my physics teacher inflating my grade to a C senior year. I think the guy was just relieved he at least had one student who actually used the stuff he taught in daily life. And he probably felt bad it was his class keeping me on academic probation.

I do kind of wish I still had one or two big ones left in me, though, because I could use a miracle right about now.

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