Never Never (6 page)

I text Silas.

Me: Where are you?

I wait a few minutes and when he doesn’t text back, I try again.

Me: Silas!

I wonder if I always do this; harass him until he answers.

I send five more and then I toss my phone across the room, burying my face in Charlie Wynwood’s pillow to cry. Charlie Wynwood probably never cried. She has no personality from the looks of her bedroom. Her mother is an alcoholic and her sister listens to crappy music. And how do I know that the poster above my sister’s bed compares love to a
boom
and a
clap
, but I don’t remember said sister’s name? I wander over to her side of the small bedroom and rummage around in her things.

“Ding, ding, ding!” I say, pulling a pink polka dot journal out from under her pillow.

I settle down on her bed and flip open the cover.

Property of Janette Elise Wynwood.

DO NOT READ!

I ignore the warning and page to her first entry, titled:

Charlie sucks.

My sister is the worst person on the planet. I hope she dies.

I close the book and put it back underneath the pillow.

“That went well.”

My family hates me. What type of human are you when your own family hates you? From across the room my phone tells me that I have a text. I jump up, thinking it’s Silas, suddenly feeling relieved. There are two texts. One is from Amy.

Where r u?!!

And the other is from a guy named Brian.

Hey, missed u today. Did you tell him?

Him who? And tell him what?

I set my phone down without answering either of them. I decide to give the journal another try, skipping all the way to Janette’s last entry, which was last night.

Title: I might need braces but we’re too broke. Charlie had braces.

I run my tongue over my teeth. Yup, they feel pretty straight.

Her teeth are all straight and perfect and I’m going to have a snaggle tooth forever. Mom said she’d see about financing but ever since that thing happened with dad’s company we don’t have money for normal things. I hate taking packed lunch to school. I feel like a kindergartener!

I skip a paragraph in which she details her friend, Payton’s, last period. She’s ranting about her lack of menstruation when her journaling is disturbed by yours truly.

I have to go. Charlie just got home and she’s crying. She hardly ever cries. I hope Silas broke up with her—would serve her right.

So I was crying when I came home last night? I walk over to the windowsill where the paper from my pocket has somewhat dried. Carefully smoothing it out, I lay it on the desk my sister and I seem to share. Part of the ink has washed away, but it looks like a receipt. I text Silas.

Me: Silas, I need a ride.

I wait again, growing irritated with his delay in response.
I am impatient
, I think.

Me: There’s a guy named Brian who’s texting me. He’s really flirty. I can ask him for a ride if you’re busy…

My phone pings a second later.

Silas: Hell no. OMW!

I smile.

It shouldn’t be a problem slipping out of the house since my mother has passed out on the sofa. I watch her for a moment, studying her sleeping face, trying desperately to remember it. She looks like Charlie, only older. Before I head outside to wait for Silas, I cover her with a blanket and grab a couple of sodas from the barren fridge.

“See ya, Mom,” I say quietly.

I can’t tell if I’m going back to her because I feel protective over her or possessive of her. Either way, I don’t like the idea of her reaching out to someone else. It makes me wonder who this Brian guy is, and why he thinks it’s okay to send her flirty texts when Charlie and I are obviously together.

My left hand is still clutching my phone when it rings again. There’s no number on the screen. Just the word “Bro.” I slide my finger across it and answer the phone.

“Hello?”

“Where the hell are you?”

It’s a guy’s voice. A voice that sounds a lot like mine. I look left and right, but nothing is familiar about the intersection I’m passing through. “I’m in my car.”

He groans. “No shit. You keep missing practice, you’ll be benched.”

Yesterday’s Silas probably would have been pissed off about this. Today’s Silas is relieved. “What day is today?”

“Wednesday. Day before tomorrow, day after yesterday. Come get me, practice is over.”

Why does he not have his own car? I don’t even know this kid and he already feels like an inconvenience. He’s definitely my brother.

“I have to pick up Charlie first,” I tell him.

There’s a pause. “At her house?”

“Yeah.”

Another pause. “Do you have a death wish?”

I really hate not knowing what everyone else seems to know. Why would I not be allowed at Charlie’s house?

“Whatever, just hurry up,” he says, right before hanging up.

She’s standing in the street when I turn the corner. She’s staring at her house. Her hands are resting gently at her sides, and she’s holding two sodas. One in each hand. She’s holding them like weapons, like she wants to throw them at the house in front of her in hopes that they’re actually grenades. I slow the car down and stop several feet from her.

She’s not wearing the same clothes she had on earlier. She’s wearing a long, black skirt that covers her feet. A black scarf is wrapped around her neck, falling over her shoulder. Her shirt is tan and long-sleeved, but she still looks cold. A gust of wind blows and the skirt and scarf move with it, but she remains unaffected. She doesn’t even blink. She’s lost in thought.

I’m lost in her.

When I put the car in park, she turns her head, looks at me and then immediately casts her eyes at the ground. She walks toward the passenger door and climbs inside. Her silence seems to be begging for my silence, so I don’t say anything as we head toward the school. After a couple of miles, she relaxes against the seat and props one of her booted feet against the dash. “Where are we going?”

“My brother called. He needs a ride.”

She nods.

“Apparently I’m in trouble for not showing up to football practice today.” I’m sure she can tell by the lackadaisical tone of my voice that I’m not too concerned about missing practice. Football isn’t really on my list of priorities right now, so being benched is probably the best outcome for everyone.

“You play football,” she says, matter of fact. “I don’t do anything. I’m boring, Silas. My room is boring. I don’t keep a journal. I don’t collect anything. The only thing I have is a picture of a gate, and I didn’t even take the picture.
You
did. All I have with any personality in my whole room is something you gave me.”

“How do you know the picture is from me?”

She shrugs and tugs her skirt taut across her knees. “You have a unique style. Kind of like a thumbprint. I could tell it was yours because you only take pictures of things that people are too scared to stare at in real life.”

She doesn’t like my photographs, I guess.

“So…” I ask, staring straight ahead. “Who’s this Brian guy?”

She picks up her phone and opens her texts. I’m trying to look over at them, knowing I’m too far away to read them, but I make the effort, anyway. I notice she tilts her phone slightly to the right, shielding it from my view. “I’m not sure,” she says. “I tried to scroll back and see if I could figure out anything from texts, but our messages are confusing. I can’t tell if I was dating him or you.”

My mouth is dry again. I take one of the drinks she brought with her and pop the top of it. I take a long sip and set it back in the cup holder. “Maybe you were messing around with both of us.” There’s an edge to my voice. I try to soften it. “What do his texts from today say?”

She locks the phone and turns it face down in her lap, almost as if she’s ashamed to look at it. She doesn’t answer me. I can feel my neck flush, and I recognize the warmth of the jealousy creeping through me like a virus. I don’t like it.

“Text him back,” I say to her. “Tell him you don’t want him to text you anymore and that you want to work it out with me.”

She cuts her eyes in my direction. “We don’t know our situation,” she says. “What if I didn’t like you? What if we were both ready to break up?”

I look back at the road and grind my teeth together. “I just think it’s better if we stick together until we figure out what happened. You don’t even know who this Brian guy is.”

“I don’t know you, either,” she bites back.

I pull into the parking lot of the school. She’s watching me closely, waiting on my response. I feel like I’m being baited.

I park the car and turn it off. I grip the steering wheel with my right hand and my jaw with my left hand. I squeeze both. “How do we do this?”

“Can you be a little more specific?” she says.

I give my head the slightest shake. I don’t know if she’s even looking at me to notice. “I can’t be specific, because I’m referring to everything. To us, our families, our lives. How do we figure this out, Charlie? And how do we do it without finding things out about each other that are going to piss us off?”

Before she can answer me, someone exits a gate and begins walking toward us. He looks like me, but younger. Maybe a sophomore. He’s not as big as me yet, but from the looks of him, he’s probably going to pass me in size.

“This should be fun,” she says, watching my little brother approach the car. He walks straight to the back passenger side and swings open the door. He tosses in a backpack, an extra pair of shoes, a gym bag, and finally, himself.

The door slams.

He pulls out his phone and begins scrolling through his texts. He’s breathing heavily. His hair is sweaty and matted to his forehead. We have the same hair. When he looks up at me, I see that we also have the same eyes.

“What’s your problem?” he asks.

I don’t respond to him. I turn back around in my seat and glance at Charlie. She has a smirk on her face and she’s texting someone. I almost want to grab her phone and see if she’s texting Brian, but my phone vibrates from her text as soon as she hits send.

Charlie: Do you even know your little brother’s name?

I have absolutely no idea what my own little brother’s name is.

“Shit,” I say.

She laughs, but her laugh is cut short when she spots something in the parking lot. My gaze follows hers and lands on a guy. He’s stalking toward the car, glaring hard at Charlie.

I recognize him. He’s the guy from the bathroom this morning. The one who tried to provoke me.

“Let me guess,” I say. “Brian?”

He walks straight to the passenger door and opens it. He steps back and crooks his finger at Charlie. He ignores me completely, but he’s about to get to know me really well if he thinks he can summon Charlie this way.

“We need to talk,” he says, his words clipped.

Charlie puts her hand on the door to pull it shut. “Sorry,” she says. “We were just about to leave. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Disbelief registers on his face, but so does a hefty dose of anger. As soon as I see him grab her by the arm and yank her toward him, I’m out of the vehicle and rounding the front of my car. I’m moving so fast, I slip on the gravel and have to grab the hood of the car to prevent myself from falling.
Smooth.
I rush around the passenger door, prepared to grab the bastard by his throat, but he’s bent over, groaning. His hand is covering his eye. He straightens up and glares at Charlie through his good eye.

“I told you not to touch me,” Charlie says through clenched teeth. She’s standing next to her door, her hand still clenched in a fist.

“You don’t want me to touch you?” he says with a smirk. “That’s a first.”

Just as I begin to lunge toward him, Charlie shoves a hand against my chest. She shoots me a warning look, giving her head the slightest shake. I force a deep, calming breath and step back.

Charlie focuses her attention back on Brian. “That was yesterday, Brian. Today’s a brand new day and I’m leaving with Silas. Got it?” She turns around and climbs back into the passenger seat. I wait until her door is shut and locked before I begin to walk back to the driver’s side.