Page 89 of Fight Or Flight

But they weren’t done with me.

For their last act as drill sergeants, I stood eye to eye with Uncle Jack. He stood on a step stool but whatever. I couldn’t laugh if I wanted to, my face was numb, and every part of my body hurt.

“They’re going to try and break you,” he shouted in my face. “They’re going to fuck with your head and make you think you’re a liability to your brothers, and what are you going to do?”

I just stared at him, my teeth chattering. Did he expect an answer? That’s when I looked at my dad and found him pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes.

Was he crying?

He turned his back to me for a moment and when he faced me again, his sunglasses were back on his face.

“I think we’re done for the day,” he called out. “Same time and place next week.”

Wait—I had to do this shit again?

* * *

A coupleof days after the twisted version of bootcamp, Robert was still acting like a little twat. He was taking his anger out on the basketball hoop in the driveway and I decided it was time for me and my brother to duke it out and what better way than by demolishing him in a little game of b-ball. Plus, making nice with my brother gave me something to do while I waited for Brooklyn to finish getting ready for our date.

That’s another thing. I wanted to die, every part of my body ached and all I wanted to do was sleep. But I wasn’t canceling my date with Brooklyn again, I had already broke plans with her last night after my dad basically had to carry me in the house from his version of bootcamp.

Brooklyn and I haven’t spent nearly as much time together as I hoped we would. Between her grueling school schedule and me assuring every single family member I’m making the right decision, we’ve barely seen each other. A strict no-sleepover policy was enforced at Casa del Tiger after the snake situation. Which, in case you were wondering, put a damper on the sexcapades. But tonight, that’s going to change. I don’t care if we get arrested for public indecency; I am going to make my pretty little hurricane come.

That’s of course if she ever finishes getting dressed.

Jogging across the front lawn, I make my way toward my brother. As soon as my Jordan’s hit the pavement, he turns his head and the permanent scowl he’s worn on his face for the last seven days appears.

Yep, still a twat.

I tip my chin and hold up my hands, silently commanding for him to pass me the ball.

“Get lost,” he growls.

“What’s the matter, Rob? Afraid I’ll kick your ass?” I ask, advancing across the makeshift court that is our parents’ driveway. He scoffs and spins away from me, dribbling the ball. I reach around him and knock it out of his hands. We both chase it down the driveway, but your boy Eric is like lightning—especially when he’s determined to make things right with his brother. I quickly gain control of the ball and dribble it away from Robert. He tries to steal it, but I’ve got a couple of inches on him, giving me an advantage. I hold the ball high over my head and meet his scowl.

“If I make this shot, you start talking.”

“I said all I had to say,” he grinds out, reaching for the ball.

“So you’re still going with the selfish prick thing. Noted.” I divert my eyes to the hoop and take my shot. Rob turns his head and we both watch the Spalding slam into the net.

“Fuck,” he hisses.

I smirk and jog around him to take the ball back.

Passing it to him, I start, “You know what I think?”

“I don’t care,” he says, bouncing the ball between his legs.

“I think you’re hurt I didn’t tell you I was joining the Army,” I continue. “I also think you're even a little scared for me.”

“Like I said, selfish prick,” he mutters. Then he surprises me by spinning around and slamming the ball against my chest. “It’s always about you. What about the rest of us, huh? Did you stop for one minute to think about what you leaving means for this family? Mom and dad might tell you they support your decision, but it scares them shitless. And what about me, huh? What the fuck am I supposed to do without you?”

Okay, so maybe he’s not a total twat.

“Rob, nothing is going to happen to me.”

“You don’t know that,” he rasps, tearing his eyes away from me.

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