Page 671 of Rock Me All Night
At home, I make coffee and breakfast. Dinner. Whatever this meal counts as. Hash browns, oranges, scrambled eggs with vegetables.
"I missed you so much I stole yourHunger Gamesposter." She stirs sugar into her coffee and sips it. Her face scrunches in distaste. "Don't know how you drink this stuff."
"You want tea?"
"I'm okay." She pushes her short blond hair behind her ears. "Plus, when it came out you were dating Pete Steele… seemed weird having his picture hanging in my room."
"It's a little weird."
"It made me feel bad. Knowing I hurt you." She attempts another sip of her coffee. "You tensed up when I said his name."
Figures. "We… broke up. Or maybe it's a fight. I don't know. We were barely together. Hard for it to be a break up."
"You want to talk about it?" she asks.
I do, actually. I want it off my shoulders. I nod. "On the couch. With proper background noise."
She laughs. "Let me guess.The Hunger Games. No,Divergent."
"Please. There's only Katniss. An imitation won't do."
She sticks her tongue out. I laugh. Then, we're both in stitches. The bar for comedy gold is lower when you've been in three time zones in two days.
"I've got it," she says. "Please. Let me."
For once, I let my sister lead. I take a spot on the couch. She gets me another cup of coffee, fixed the way I like it, a glass of water, a blanket.
She plops next to me. Once the movie is streaming, she turns to me. "You look heartbroken. What happened?"
I tell her everything. Even the part about it being pretend.
Then she tells me everything about her ugly breakup with Nathan. Turns out, he's still a controlling asshole underneath his charming exterior.
We talk about Mom and Dad—good times and bad—until Madison falls asleep on the couch. Only a few more hours until the hospital opens. I finish the marathon on my own.
By the end, I'm half asleep and I'm not watching the movie. I replay every ugly moment of the not exactly a breakup. When I can't take it anymore, I go to my room, unpack, put on my pajamas.
The doorbell rings.
This used to happen all the time. Dad would get drunk and make a scene. The neighbors would stop by, sometimes to check on us, sometimes to chew him out. Back then, I always lied. Always covered for him.
Not anymore.
No matter who that is, I'm going to be totally honest.
There are footsteps downstairs. Madison must be up.
"Hello," she says to the door.
I move to the hallway, poised to jump in if necessary.
She shrieks. "Really?"
I can't hear the person on the other side.
Madison pulls the door open and motions for the person to come in.
It's not a neighbor.
It's Pete.
