Page 8 of Counter Bet

Dallas.

My uncle is a no-show again. I drop the backpack on the bed, breathing a deep sigh of relief. I’ve felt on edge ever since my family perished in a fire a little over a year ago, and I got sent to live with my estranged uncle. He makes no secret over the fact that he doesn’t want me here, as evidenced by my bruised ribs. The latest bruise on my jaw has finally faded. It’s not obvious unless you look closely.

I take a seat on the threadbare mattress and rest my elbows on my knees. I run my hands through my hair.

“Dallas, wake up.” Melissa nudges me.

I open one eye. My mouth tastes like shit, kudos to too many drinks last night. “Come back to bed, Mel. It’s too early.”

Melissa worries her lip. “The police are here to see you.”

I stare at her for what feels like an eternity before sitting up and scooting back on the bed, clutching the sheet around my naked breasts. “What do you mean? The police?”

“I don’t know the details. They want to speak with you.”

She’s dressed already. I clear my throat, glance at the door, and reach down for my clothes on the floor. I get dressed in silence. If the police are here at eight in the morning, it’s bad news.

There’s nothing to be done about the rat nest on my head, so I pat it down as best as possible and step out in the hallway. The stairs creak beneath my bare feet, fear rising inside of me at the sight of the two officers on the couch. They both clutch their hats in their hands.

The middle-aged police officer with the receding hairline stands up, his shoulders hunched. “Please, have a seat, miss.”

I close my eyes, blowing out a breath. The sadness creeps in whenever I’m alone. I can still hear the deep sound of my brother Aaron’s carefree laughter. When he laughed, others joined in. He had that effect on people.

It makes me wince to think what he would say if he saw me cower beneath my uncle’s fists and make a complete mess of my life. I miss my parents too. My mom with her kind, blue eyes that crinkled at the corners when she smiled, and my dad, who used to ruffle my hair and call me “kid.”

“Fuck!” I whisper shakily, tearing at my roots until my scalp screams in pain. I curse again, louder this time, before screaming at the top of my lungs. Why did this happen to me?

I jump up and kick over the bedside table next to my sorry excuse of a bed. The sound of crashing furniture clears the fog of anger. I’m panting, staring at the splintered wood. Every day is a struggle. A part of me wishes I hadn’t spent the night at Melissa’s.

What do I have left to fight for? I know what my brother would say. He would tell me to smile again—to not let their deaths be in vain. But my dreams died with my family.

My phone chimes with a new text.

Steph: It’s Friday! Are you up for some fun?”

I type out a reply and hit send. Fuck if I’m staying in with my memories all night.

* * *

“Sis, Aaron shouts, waves lapping at his waist. His surfboard bobs on the water. “See that? It’s a big one. You ready?”

“I was born ready, Aaron!”

“Hell yeah!” He whoops, lying down on his board in preparation.

My raven hair lies plastered to my face despite the ponytail. “I’m going to beat you this time, brother!”

He glances at the approaching wave, then flicks his head, sending water droplets flying. “The day you beat me will be a rainy day in hell.”

A knock on the window startles me from my thoughts.

Steph leans an elbow on the car roof and eyes me with a crease between her dark brows. “Are you planning on sitting out here all night?”

I don’t miss the note of concern in her voice. There’s a weight on my chest, and my lungs feel clogged as I slide my hands down the steering wheel and unfasten my seatbelt. She slaps the car roof and walks back to the house

I stare at the rundown property for a moment. The paint is flaking, and the screendoor hangs loose, slamming in the wind. The small front yard is overgrown with weeds, and an old, overweight Doberman lies asleep on the porch. At least no one beats on her at home or tells her she’s a waste of space.

I step out of the car and follow her inside, mindful not to step on the rotten wooden planks marked with red spray paint.

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