Page 41 of Oh, Flutz!

Katya quirks an eyebrow. “I’ll keep that in mind. Anything else?”

I reach into my pocket for my keys, sticking the house key in the lock, the metal jangling noisily. “Actually, yeah. Don’t be mean to her.”

Maybe a little blunt, but I’m not about to let Alex get bullied by anyone, and Katya tends to do that. Not that she even needs my help in the self-defense department, never has—Alex once stopped a mugging at the mall by roasting the guy so badly he ran off without the purse—but old habits die hard. Katya can be mean to me all she likes at the rink, but she’s not going to mess with my baby sister.

I expect her to roll her eyes or whatever, but she looks upset, almost; which makes me second-guess myself.

But it’s not totally unreasonable for me to think she would do something or say something nasty. Right? Katya’s put me through the ringer already. I’m almost impressed at the range of her insults—again, no idioms, but she picked up every curse known to the English language in a matter of weeks.

“I won’t,” she mutters, crossing her arms, and I’m tempted for a second to explain why I’m so overprotective (or so I’m told), but I just push the door open.

We’re standing awkwardly in the middle of the entryway trying not to look at each other when a familiar head of reddish-blonde hair barrels down the stairs.

“Hey, you’re back! How’d things go with the psy—”

I wince, and Alexandra abruptly stops talking, eyes wide. “Oh. Um.”

This is not a good start. “Uh, Alex, this is Katya. My partner.”

My sister, true to form, is barely fazed. “It’s great to meet you. Bryan’s told me nothing about you or your training except that you bully him like the little bitch he is, so I think we’re gonna get along.”

I groan, and Katya, clearly not expecting that, starts laughing. “I think so too.”

Alexandra grins, reaching over to loop an arm through hers. “Come on. Let me introduce to you the wonders of how low the standards for men are. You came on a great night; we’ve got a full red velvet cake in the fridge.”

“Oh my god, she made one?” I start pulling off my hoodie as fast as I can. “Jesus, why didn’t you call me before? I would’ve come earlier!”

Alex’s judgmental look makes Katya laugh again, and I stop halfway, sweater bunched up around my neck so I have to peer over the collar before I can narrow my eyes. “You make fun of me now, but once you try it, you’ll understand.”

Five minutes later, we’re piled on the couch, The Bachelor is on, and I’ve got a gigantic slab of cake on my plate.

“Oh my god,” I moan in delight, licking icing off the fork and kicking off my shoes.

“You can’t take him anywhere,” Alexandra says disgustedly, and I chuckle around a mouthful.

“I’m not even listening to you right now.” The sugar high hasn’t even set in, and I’m already in bliss. “Katya, you’re sure you don’t want any?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” she says.

Okay, so ever since that first day, I’ve noticed she doesn’t eat a whole lot. Which…isn’t really surprising. This is one of those sports where it’s way too normal to obsess over weight and calorie intake. It’s not my place to push her or make her feel uncomfortable, though. Plus, I’ve found that turning things into a contest is the best way to get her to do anything.

“Bet you just think you can’t down it faster than me. You’re looking at the four-time Lake Placid Senior High Pie Eating Champion.”

Alex snorts, bouncing her fork in between her fingers so it looks like it’s nodding in agreement. “Year number three, he was at Nationals when they did it, and he went out, found a pie, taped himself scarfing it down, emailed it to the principal, andstillwon.”

Katya squints at me. “Give me the fork.”

I raise an eyebrow and hand it to her, and she takes it, then dives for my plate.

“Nuh uh—” I try to guard it, but she’s already grabbed a big bite and shoved it in her mouth. “Damn it, you got all the frosting, too!”

“I thought you wanted me to try it,” she says innocently, wiping crumbs from the corner of her mouth. “That is very good, actually.”

See, this is what I get when I try to be a good person. I get my dessert stolen. “I meant for you to get your own, not steal mine,” I grumble. “And I told you so. Mom’s red velvet is legendary.”

“Agreed,” Alexandra garbles around her full mouth.

I get up, taking my plate with me because I don’t trust these vultures. “I’m getting you a slice. Either of you want anything else?”

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