Page 4 of Heart of Stone
I rolled the sides of the bag down and plunged my spoon inside. I shoveled in a spoonful of cereal and glanced out the kitchen window to the house next door. It looked quiet. No aliens, or spaceships, or crazy lady running around with tin foil on her head or a towel cape pinned to her shoulders.
There was no sign of Amy either. Her car was still there, but she hadn’t come over, like she usually did, to see what we were up to. Of course, I was pretty sure she came over less to see what was happening in our house and more to avoid what was happening in hers.
Last night had ended badly, but she’d come around. She always did. She’d known me long enough to know I wouldn’t change and that I wasn’t worth the effort. I’d fallen into bed still rock hard and was tortured by her scent forthe rest of the night.
She’d been right about everything. I was a complete asshole, and she had no chance to meet anyone local. Because of me, every guy was afraid to get near her. For a few weird seconds after she’d walked out on me, I’d told myself I had to lay off. I had to stop threatening and scaring away every guy who got too close to her. Either I had to commit or let her go free. But as I let that idea settle in my head, I knew there was no fucking way I could let her go. I couldn’t stand the thought of it. At the same time, I was a fucking coward about commitment. Colt had finally taken the plunge into the abyss, and he seemed extremely happy. But he had always been different than me. I was the oldest. I’d lived the longest in this hell hole when the leather strap wielding spawn of Satan was at the helm. More than once, I’d taken the blame for things my younger brothers had done just because I couldn’t stomach listening to them get a beating. I had been the oldest, the strongest, the biggest, and I needed to protect them. It had left my outer shell impenetrable. It was what’d helped me survive. And no one, not even the one person in the world who I cared about more than anyone, could break through the shield of armor I’d constructed.
Slade came down the hallway and into the kitchen. He looked pointedly at my bag of cereal. “Nice bowl. Guess we could turn the water on and rinse some of these dishes.”
I lifted my breakfast. The cereal and milk rolled to the corner of the bag. “Why bother when the cereal companies are providing us with these convenient containers.”
Slade looked at the flattened milk carton. “So, you finished the last of the cereal and the milk?”
I held the bag up to him. “You want some?”
“Fuck.” He turned to the refrigerator and dug out a slice of cold pizza. He pulled out a chair and sat across from me. “Where the hell were you last night? Still hanging with those low-lifes?”
I laughed and waved my arm around the small, filthy kitchen. “Look around, buddy. We’re already at the bottom.”
“Speak for yourself. Those guys are just fucking trouble.” He pulled a piece of cold melted cheese off the pizza slice and shoved it in his mouth.
“Yeah? Then it would be my trouble and not yours. They like to play poker, and I just happen to like it too. Just worry about your own ass.”
He put up his hand. “Fine, whatever.” He took another bite and didn’t swallow before he asked his next prying question. “Why did Street leave here in such a fit last night?”
I ignored him and shoveled out another scoop of cereal.
“I guess that answers my question. You know, she’s going to eventually get tired of you and then she’ll tell you to fuck off and then you’re going to be crying like a big fucking baby.”
I chewed and stared at him across the table.
He bit off a piece of the leathery pizza and stared back. “See. You know I’m right. Those eyes already look weepy.”
“You’re funny as hell this morning. You must have finally gotten lucky last night.”
He swallowed hard to get the chewy pizza down and hopped up to grab a soda. “What the hell do you meanfinally? It’s a rare night, my big brother, when I don’t end up with some pussy on the end of my cock.” He popped the soda and sat down again. “But from that twisted look on your face, it seems that you were not so lucky last night. Did Street cut you off midstream?”
I pushed up from the chair. “Let’s drop the subject.” I put the remaining cereal into the trash and headed out.
“Again— that answers my question,” Slade called to me. “You’re going to be sorry the day she walks out of here for good.”
I headed out the door. It wasn’t Slade’s usual warning that made me walk next door. It was my own conscience, something that rarely surfaced, that told me I needed to see Amy. I couldn’t stand the thought of her being mad at me.
I walked around to the back of the house and knocked on Amy’s window. There was no answer. She knew it was me and was ignoring the sound. I knocked again. “Street, come on. Let me in. I just want to talk.” No answer.
I reached up and pushed on the window frame. It creaked open. I shoved the bottom pane up. With the curtains closed and the sun on the opposite side of the house, the room was still dark. I hadn’t broken into her room since we were teenagers, but I still fit through the space, barely. I braced my hands on the ledge and managed to pull my top half inside. A floorboard creaked next to the window. I lifted my head just in time to see Amy’s mom, Sarah, and the glass vase she was holding.
“Alien intruder!” she screamed.
The vase came down over my head. The loud cracking sound that followed seemed to come mostly from the vase. My skull vibrated, and the searing pain in the back of myhead was followed by a hot stream of blood.
“Fucking hell, you loon.” I fell back out of the window and into the bristly shrub. Sarah shut the window and locked it, obviously pleased with herself for thwarting an alien invasion. I had to assume Amy wasn’t inside. Unless she was pissed enough to stand by and watch me get crowned with a vase.
I wasn’t seeing stars, but I was definitely feeling off balance as I stumbled back out to the front of the house. The steady stream of blood had already soaked my collar. Amy was just walking up the driveway. She looked tired and puffy eyed. She was still dressed in the t-shirt and coat. Her long legs stuck out from under the coat. She wasn’t wearing any shoes. She hadn’t gone back home after she’d fled from my room. Now I wanted to know where the hell she’d been.
Her face blanched as she noticed the red stain soaking my collar and the blood on my hand. “What happened?”
I stomped toward her. “Where did you spend the night?” My sharp question erased the worry on her face and replaced it with anger.
