Little Battles (8 page)

Otherwise, why would I be here with him now?

“W-why do you l-like the color b-brown?”

I shook my head. “Why do you have to be so difficult?”

“I’m n-not being d-difficult. I j-just w-want to get to know you.”

I knew he would keep asking until I told him all of the things he wanted to know. I glanced out toward the living room, and then walked over to the table, sitting down across from him. Working really hard to regulate my breathing and wishing that I was higher than I was, I stuck out my tongue flat, showing him the deep red circles that were seared into the soft flesh.

“Doctors call it a
geographic tongue
.” I sighed, staring at his hand as it tightened around his coffee mug. “But I wasn’t born with it.”

“W-w-w-what d-did she do?”

I hated that he wanted to know about all this shit and hating that in order for him to know, I would have to tell him and think about it. “Pepper can burn just like fire. Chili sauce left on the skin for a long period of time can burn a hole right through it. Hot sauce placed on cuts stings like a bitch, and smoked Thai dried peppers stuck under or on your tongue can hurt more than a broken bone or being stabbed with a fork.” This conversation taking place at the same time as the meal I was preparing wasn’t lost on me.

I risked a glance up at him and found him staring back at me, his eyes incredibly intense.
Too
intense. I pulled my tongue over my top teeth, feeling the unnatural texture. “Those were made with habaneros,” I whispered.

I hadn’t been able to eat for a week and when I finally could, even applesauce tasted like shit and hurt like hell. I stood again, and went over to the stove to stir the chili.

With my back to him, using as forceful a voice as I could, I said, “Now answer one of mine.”

I was growing weary of answering his questions about my mother and if I was going to reveal something to him, he was going to do the same.

“I-I d-don’t know w-why I g-get—”

He was going to answer the question about being anxious around people, but that wasn’t the one I wanted to know right now. I could figure that shit out on my own.

“Not that one.”

I heard him release a rush of air and glanced around. His hands were pressed into tight fists on the top of the table and his jaw was tight as his teeth clenched. I immediately felt bad for challenging him like that. I turned back to the stove.

“I-i-it w-w-was her only w-w-way out, SSSS-Sophie.”

I could understand that. Most people didn’t blow their fucking brains out for shits and giggles, it was to get away from something, but most people didn’t do it in front of their young child.

“But she did it in front of you.”

He swallowed hard, so hard I heard it from across the kitchen. “M-my d-d-d-d, fffather said that the d-demons hhhhad t-taken hhhher.” I turned to look at him, wondering if he knew and understood just how messed up that shit sounded. “And that sssssshe w-w-w-was too w-w-weak to…”

His voice cut off, but he was still trying to speak. Maybe this shit should’ve been covered in an e-mail instead. His cheeks were ballooned out as he tried to push whatever word was in his mind from between his lips. His face was growing red, and Elliott gripped the coffee mug so tightly that I was afraid it might shatter in his hands.

Finally, he took a deep breath. “Hhhe said that they w-w-won.”

His dad was a fucked-up freak.

But I couldn’t very well say that to Elliott. Maybe he loved his dad or believed the shit the man spewed.

Elliott mumbled something and I had to look hard at his mouth to make out the rest. “Then He will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devils and his angels.’ ”

What. The fuck?

Was that shit from the Bible?

And more importantly, how the hell had he said all that without stuttering once?

He looked lost and in pain, and I seriously thought he was going to break that cup. “Elliott?”

He took a deep breath as if he’d been holding it for hours. Then he finally looked up, glancing at me briefly before shifting to look out of the window. “D-d-d…ssssssssorry.”

I eyed him carefully. The entire air around him had changed so completely.

“What are you sorry for?”

He didn’t answer. In fact, all he did was release his hold on the mug, so I spooned out some chili for us and told Tom that dinner was ready.

I watched Elliott closely until he left. His face was stoic and unchanging, his eyes dark and cloudy.

I was sorry to be the reason the light had left him.

Sunday brought with it an interview at the Quickshop. The manager had called at nine in the morning and so at a little after one in the afternoon I was sitting in his cluttered office, answering questions about why I wanted to work there.

I was high. Totally blown, to be entirely truthful. My logic was that if I went there the first time higher than hell, it would be their baseline data and they’d never know the difference.

Obviously, the interview was probably more subdued than the manager was used to because this new weed of Jason’s was smooth, and every time the guy would ask me something, I took a really long time trying to formulate the answer.

“Tell me about a time when you saw something that needed to be done and just jumped in and did it.”

His questions were worse than therapy. My mind supplied all sorts of sexual answers to that.

Sex was absolutely on my brain. I hadn’t gotten laid since I’d kissed Elliott last Wednesday. I’d banged Jason in his car before school that day, but I couldn’t really get the details right in my head. I’d been pretty out of it, fairly toasted and sleep-deprived.

I felt like I was going crazy because I wanted to get laid too, and Jason wanted to get laid, but I hadn’t done him or put any effort into even trying.

So I was wound fairly tight.

While the rotund man conducting the interview talked to my boobs, I kept supplying stock answers that people like him wanted to hear, barely paying attention to the whole process.

I didn’t focus until I heard him say, “Since you’re underage, the record was closed and without knowing what the crime was, I can’t give you a money-handling job.”

My brow creased. He was talking about my background check. “That’s okay. Stocking’s cool too. I don’t want to handle money.”

He took a deep breath and another long look at my boobs for good measure before saying, “Since you’re Tom’s kid, we’ll give you a shot.” He paused, his gaze dipping lower for just a moment before he reddened a bit. “Your father’s a good man. He’s done quite a lot for…”

I tuned him out again. I’d pay attention when he stopped thinking about bending me over his desk and covering it up by going on about how flippin’ awesome Tom was.

My first day would be on Thursday after school, provided I got all of the work permit bullshit in line first.

I took the bus to Jace’s because I needed to get more pot and I wanted to get high again before heading back home.

“I’m out.”

“You’re out?” I stared at him. “But I’ve got money.”

“Well, you’ll have to save it until my shit gets here.”

“When’s that supposed to be?” I felt a little panicked. Aiden didn’t sell weed.

“Probably tomorrow or the next day.” Jason stood, towering over me. “I’ve got some Reddi-Whip if you want to do some whippits.”

“Are we twelve again or what?”

He smiled at me. “It’ll be fun. Like the first time we did it.”

I smiled, remembering how spaced I’d been afterward. There was nothing like killing brain cells by huffing gas out of a can of spray whipped cream.

“Fine, whippits it is then.”

It was only after nearly asphyxiating my brain that I realized I’d stayed at Jason’s house too long. As I exited the bathroom, trying to keep my overly sex-deprived brain from thinking about doing it on that bathroom vanity, I heard Jason’s dad yelling at him.

Then I heard him yell back, “It’s not my fucking fault you’re the way you are! She didn’t touch anything out here, I swear.”

“Don’t fucking yell at me, Jason.”

“Don’t fucking yell at
me
.”

“Clean it anyway. How do we know she didn’t touch anything? Maybe she put things out of order when she was in the…”

I snuck a peek around the corner and watched as Jason glared at his father who was fidgeting in a recliner that was covered with fitted plastic. Jace ran his hands through his hair and then stood up straight. “I was with her the whole time.”

Jerry, whose hair was darker than Jason’s sandy blond and also much smaller than his son, started moving his fingers back and forth, rhythmically. His lips were moving, but I could barely hear anything. What was he doing? I focused on his mouth and realized he was counting. After a long time, he finally looked back up at Jason.

“Please just clean anyway? Please? With the brown towels?”

Jace sighed. “Fine. Can I go now? She’s waiting for me…”

“In your room?”

“No, in
your
room,” he answered, his voice annoyed and edgy.

Jerry looked frightened, like the thought of me in his bedroom sparked actual panic.

“Of course not in your room. She’s in mine, unless she got tired of waiting for me,” he said pointedly. “Don’t flip. Why would she be in your room?”

“Make sure you clean your room when she goes.”

“No.”

“What?” his father asked, his voice taking on that panicked nature again.

“I
like
her germs in my room, Dad. It’s
my
room. Besides, it’s
Sophie
. Tom’s daughter. He was over just—”

“It’s not the same and we cleaned after he left too. Just clean, Jason. Promise me you’ll clean.”

“Fine,” he relented with a sigh. “Did you take your meds today?”

Jerry fidgeted, but nodded. “I just need you to clean, that’s all. Sorry I yelled.”

Jason shrugged. “What do you want for dinner?”

He was like his father’s fucking parent or something. I’d known that his dad had some mental issues, but it never occurred to me that Jason would have to take care of him so much.

I went back to Jason’s room and grabbed my coat, wanting to leave. When I turned back around, he was leaning in the doorway.

“You taking off?”

I nodded. “I have to get dinner and all that.”

“Me too.”

I started shrugging on my coat, but before I could, Jason took it away and lifted me, pressing me into the wall. His mouth on my neck was heavy and wet, and it felt so good. The way his arms were behind me, his hands in my hair, set me alight with heat. My legs automatically wrapped around his waist and his hips thrust upward, driving his very obvious excitement against me.

I thought about Elliott and I felt awful because I’d kissed him on Wednesday and now I had Jason pressing against me in all the right places. I’d been trying
not
to do this shit. Jace breathed out against my ear and I instantly froze. The rush of air brought memories.

Shhhh!

I pushed against him, then opened my eyes and straightened my legs. He let me down, but only after trying to hold me closer to him for a split-second.

“What the fuck?” His breath was coming out in spurts.

“I have to go, Jace.”

He said something, but I didn’t listen. My mind was racing with thoughts of things I didn’t want to think about.

“But, Sophie…”

“No, I have to go. The bus will be along any minute.”

“I can take you home.”

I shook my head and licked my lips. “You have to make Jerry dinner.”

Sighing, he gave me a half-nod. “Fine, but I’ll see you tomorrow morning, right?”

“Actually, I’m getting another ride.”

“Who the hell from?”

It wasn’t hard to hear the jealousy in his voice. I worked really hard not to get pissed at him.