What more does she want from me? I stupidly stand up for her, and suddenly she wants to come into my room like she’s earned that right.
I wish I could go to sleep and never wake up. It would be a great escape from the bullshit I have to deal with on a daily basis. No more Jerry. No more Mickey and his stupid friends. No more reminders about how I’m worthless and how my father couldn’t stand me so he left.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
I glare at the door, my mind rapidly running through different ways to get Madison to leave me alone. She needs to hate me just as much as I hate her. This following me around and always wanting to talk to me is exhausting.
The not-so-funny thing is how two-faced she is. When she’s with her friends, she doesn’t push as much as she does while in private. Almost like she’s ashamed of being seen hanging around me.
A tiny smile curls my lips as I stare blankly at the door my little sister keeps knocking on.
I’ll make her hate me.
10 years old
“THE YOUNG AND THE HOPELESS” GOOD CHARLOTTE
After Ryder locked himself in his bedroom in the pool house yesterday, I gave up knocking and begging him to let me in. It’s Saturday, which means he’ll most likely sleep in beforehe pops into the house to sneak a Pop-Tart. Then he’ll disappear into his bedroom or walk into town to hang out with his friends.
Wanting to catch him before he leaves, I sneak outside with a plate of scrambled eggs, sausage patties, grits, and buttered sourdough toast with a side of blackberry jelly. Minnie cooked breakfast and made him a plate. When Dad wasn’t paying attention, she whispered that I should sneak it out to Ryder.
My steps are quick but silent as I rush to the pool house. A shiver rolls down my spine from the cool air that leaves a bite of frost on the grass. Ryder can tell me to leave him alone all he wants, but I refuse to let him rot away in his bedroom. He’s always there when we’re home. He’s always alone, and I don’t like that. No one should ever be alone.
“Ryder,” I whisper-yell before knocking on the door. I balance the plate of food with my free hand and knock again when I don’t get an answer. It’s nothing new, but it still hurts that he’s treating me this way.
I test the doorknob and find it unlocked. A smile tugs at my lips as I ease the door open, slip inside the room, and then quietly shut the door behind me. It’s still dark, but the rising sun provides enough light through the window for me to see in the shadowed room. Ryder lies on his stomach, legs sprawled out on the mattress. He hugs his pillow like it’s his safety net, bringing him comfort, even while asleep.
I probably shouldn’t be bothering him so early in the morning, but I can’t help myself. He noticed me yesterday. Even defended me against Mickey. That has to mean something, right?
I tiptoe to his bed and ease the plate onto the nightstand. Glancing around the room, I ensure we’re alone before I crawl onto the mattress and curl against his side. His face is turned toward me, his eyes closed and lips parted with each deep, even breath as he continues sleeping.
All I want to do is hug him and apologize for yesterday at school. I still feel awful about what happened. I didn’t get into a fight with him and his friends, but the fight happened because Ryder stood up for me. He noticed the way Mickey squeezed my arm and used me as a shield. I didn’t think Ryder would ever care, let alone demand someone let go of his little sister.Hislittle sister.
My cheeks warm with a blush.
“What’re you doing here?” Ryder mumbles, his voice thick from sleep.
I stiffen and put a small amount of space between us, afraid he’ll hurt me for touching him. For a moment, I feel awful for waking him, but a rush of excitement replaces the negative emotion.
“How long have you been awake?” I squeak.
“Answer the question.”
My lips press together as his flat voice dismisses me. “I brought you some breakfast.”
Ryder pops open an eyelid. “Why?”
“Just because.” I shrug.
He closes the eye.
I lean forward after several silent minutes, worried he fell asleep again, but he turns his head away from me.
“Leave,” he mutters.
I frown and sit up with my legs crossed. “Can’t I do something nice for you?”
“Nice?” He scoffs. “Since when would you do something nice for me?”