Page 4 of Run Away Home: Tempered

“I am not getting everything, Hayley. I’m getting a few thousand dollars. A few thousand dollars isn’t everything. Do you—”

“You’re the favorite.”

“No, that’s obviously Danny.”

“She’s giving you the money.”

“Because I’m becoming Danny’s legal guardian, not you.”

“Then let Danny pay the rent with the money Melissa gave to you,” Hayley says.

I stare at her, and she looks right back at me. Her eyes are as red as the freaking tomato sauce spots she left on the dishes.

“What?” she asks.

“Stop spending all your money on pot and pills, then maybe you’ll have money.” I turn back toward the sink and continue drying.

“You fucking brat.”

“Where do you even get money from, anyway? You don’t work.”

“Stop it!” Peter says.

“Did you hear what he just said to me?” she asks him.

“Danny, you shouldn’t have said that.”

“But it’s true,” I say.

“It’s not... Just don’t,” Peter answers.

I turn toward Peter again. “I’m thirteen years old. Do you think I’m dumb?”

“Danny, no, I don’t. Just let me and Hayley talk about money. You don’t need to be in this conversation.”

“SHE DRAGGED ME INTO IT!” I point at her and throw my dishtowel on the floor. “Are you even listening?”

“Shh! Melissa is sleeping.”

I walk out of the kitchen. I don’t want to dry these dirty freaking plates anymore. I wish Peter would just tell Hayley she can’t come with us.

Hayley

“HOW DO WE SPELL HERlast name?”

“M-A-R-C-E-L-L-O,” Peter answers.

“Thanks. Tell me about what happened this morning.”

Police officers are in our living room. When Peter told me that Melissa was dead, I made sure to hide everything that could be incriminating.

“I woke up and went into her bedroom. She was dead,” Peter says.

“And you knew that for sure?”

“I know what death looks like,” Peter answers. “She had emphysema. She’d been a chain smoker as a young woman. At least, that’s what she told us to try and get us to quit.”

I’m still in my pajamas, but Peter’s fully dressed. He’s wearing light-colored jeans and a checkered polo. His hair is up in a neat bun. He looks very put together. I don’t. Fuck... That’s okay, right? Whatever, I don’t care.

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