Page 25 of Bragg's Match

“Brody? What are you doing in here?”

“This is my bedroom.”

“I mean…”

I pause to scan the room. My eyes nearly bug out of my head when I notice his bed is destroyed. Totally and completely destroyed. The headboard is in pieces on the floor and the mattress appears black and singed. I sniff.

“Do I smell fire?”

“Not fire exactly.”

“What’s going on in here?”

He motions to me. “Can you drop the bat before I explain? I admit I screwed up but beating me with a bat is a bit excessive, don’t ya think?”

I use the bat to indicate what used to be a bed. The bed I paid for. Nothisbed. “I’m not the one who’s being excessive.”

He drops his hands. “It was an accident.”

“An accident? Like oops, I started my bed on fire and the resulting explosion broke the headboard and frame?”

“Exactly.” He grins.

I can’t believe him. He’s actually grinning. Does he think this situation is funny? There is nothing funny about this situation. I stalk toward him and poke his chest.

“I hope you’re happy with yourself. You’ve now destroyed your bed. I guess you’ll have to find somewhere else to live.”

And now it might be me who’s grinning at an inappropriate moment. This is actually perfect. It sucks Brody ruined my spare bed but I’m willing to sacrifice some furniture to get him out of my house. There’s a limit to how long I can resist temptation and Brody spells temptation in all caps with flashing neon lights.

Brody rears back. “Why would I move out?”

I indicate the ruins of the bed. “You have nowhere to sleep.”

“But I have nowhere to go.”

“Dude, you have three brothers and a half-brother who live in town. And your mother lives in town, too. You have options.”

“First of all, ew. I’m not moving in with my mom. She’s living with Lennon now. The idea of the two of them…” He feigns retching.

“You can move in with one of your brothers. Problem solved.”

Why is this my problem? Why does everyone think they can dump their problems on me for me to solve?

“Please, pixie, don’t kick me out. I don’t want to live with my brothers.”

I glare at him. “Donotcall me pixie.”

“Soleil, please don’t make me leave,” he begs.

I open my mouth to tell him it’s fine, he can stay. But snap it shut when I realize I’m doing it again. I’m shouldering everyone else’s problems. I steel my back. This is not my problem to solve.

“Why can’t you stay with one of your brothers?”

“None of them have a spare bedroom for me.”

I wave an arm toward the destroyed bed. “I don’t have a spare bedroom for you now either.”

He clears his throat. “But you don’t treat me like a child. My brothers make fun of me and bully me about how I’m a baby. You don’t.”

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