Page 292 of Vicious Saint
“Morning Daddy…” Theory skips over to us in her uniform pants and blazer, uninterested by the crazy as she pops a kiss on his cheek. It’s as if all the chaos is her average Monday.
“Sissy…” she greets me too, but with a sideways hug. “Whatcha guys talkin’ about?”
“Other than why your sister insists on delaying the inevitable?” Vic pins me with an impatient glare. Probably because we’ve been doing this dance for over thirty minutes.
“Maybe I wouldn’t if you or Mom actually told me why the Ivanovs would choosemeto pay a visit to.”
“That’s easy…” Theory scoffs. “They assumed you would be the easiest target.”
Ouch.
Vic looks at his daughter like she just cursed the Lord’s name in vain during Sunday mass…or maybe that she’s proving a valid point.
“What?” She shrugs. “I’m not saying she is, just that strategically they’d figure the stepkid would be given the least protection.”
“Shut up, Theory,” Saint grumbles from behind me, saving Vic the energy of scolding her, and when I turn I find him exactly how I expected. Tired eyes, untucked uniform, Letterman, fitted, and holding a white plastic bag.
He’s barely slept for two days, either with his face buried in a laptop or jumping out of bed from every bang that came from outside my bedroom window.
A few times he even stormed into the hallway, nearly blowing our cover on the sleepovers our parents still aren’t aware we’ve been having.
Or relationship for that matter.
Well, except for my mom. I haven’t missed the questionable eyes from her every time Saint laughs in my direction.Thankfully, her and Auntie have been too busy inspecting me for PTSD and not a secret stepbrother boyfriend.
“Hey.” I smile when he’s at my side, fighting the urge to reach on my toes and kiss him. “Took you a while.”
He’s been sneaking out of bed in the mornings before I wake, and both times I’d find him fully dressed sitting in the dining room, with stacks of pancakes and bacon waiting for me.
Except for this morning when I found a text he had to run an errand, and that he’d meet me here with breakfast.
Vic shares a look with Saint, one that tells me the errand most definitely had to do with me.
“Managed to piss off Ali again…he edges as punishment.”
Ah, yes. His trusty sandwich maker.
“You get me one too?” Theory peeks into the bag, where Saint pulls out a round aluminum foil covered sandwich.
“Fuck yeah!” She snatches it from him.
“Language,” Vic warns.
Jesus if there’s anything good to come out of us being glued to our dorm rooms for the week, it’s the time I’ll spendnottreating Theory like a seven year old.
“Bell’s going to ring in twenty minutes, so you guys head inside and eat then get to class,” Vic orders, the exhaustion in his tone as prominent as the exhaustion on Saint’s face.
It’s for this reason I cave, but not before walking through the metal detector with a tight smile and hands in the air.
Not only are there four men, a Stanley, and a Carlo littering the halls, but I’ve got an edgy Saint to my left, and Theory with an equally tense Levi to her right as we make our way to class.
Saint’s arm, along with his Letterman is draped possessively over my shoulders, something that every kid around us seems to be gawking at. Including a torn up Annalie.
Pun intended.
“Girlllllll…” Theory mumbles to me from the corner of her lip. “These bitches be grillin’ yo’ ass in big bro’s jacket.”
“I put up a good fight…but lost it to his threat to serenade me.”
