I nearly die.
Oh my God, this is amazing.
Gunner and Romeo are gripping each other, barely able to stand as they roar with laughter.
Brow crinkled. He moves in front of the mic and I press the button again. “It’s not the mic?” he repeats, tapping it. He turns the mic off and then back on. Stella grips me in laughter.
“That better?” he squeaks. “What the—what’s happening?”
“That’s right, keep talking,” Gunner says in between a fit of laughter.
The entire gym is engulfed in laughter, and honestly, I’d feel a little bad about the confusion and anger written all over his face . . . if he weren’t such a dick to me.
Karma, my friends . . . karma.
Also, a slight tweak of the audio desk’s preset characteristics goes a very long way in revenge. Take notes.
Gunner: Status Report: Positively fuming. DEFCON 1 status.
Romeo: His face was bright red. I thought he was going to blow a gasket.
Greer: Oh God, do you think we should stop?
Gunner: Hell no. The next prank is my favorite.
Greer: Yes, but we also have to deal with him.
Romeo: Yes, we have to deal with him. I might have wanted to help you for my own motives, but now I’m invested. Full steam ahead, Greer.
Gunner: Agreed. I’m far too invested at this point.
Greer: Think he’s on to me?
Romeo: No way. He thought it was some kid adding shit to the water. You’re safe.
Greer: Okay, so . . . blue pee?
Gunner: Blue pee.
Romeo: I need blue pee so much in my life.
Greer: Okay, we shall commence blue pee Thursday next week.
Gunner: God bless chemistry.
Chapter Six
ARLO
“Coraline, dinner is ready,” I shout to the backyard, where my sister is buried deep in her phone.
“Can we eat out here?”
“If you come help me with the plates and drinks.”
She pops up from a lounger and walks inside. I hand her a plate of salmon, rice, and asparagus, and an ice-cold water.
“Water?”
“Your wine consumption has been heavy lately.”
“I’m getting a divorce at the ripe age of twenty-seven. I believe I have a pass when it comes to the amount of wine I’m allowed to consume.”
“There’s no pass, and there’s no wine tonight.”
Huffing, she walks her plate and water out to the back patio and takes a seat at one of the outdoor tables. I take a seat across from her and hope she’s feeling open enough tonight.
Ever since she moved in, it’s as if she’s reverted back to teenage Coraline with her moodiness and evasiveness. I worry, because she’s exhibiting the same behaviors as before she ended up in the hospital, bleeding out of her wrists . . .
I swallow hard, unable to get the image of my lifeless sister sprawled out on the bathroom floor, blood seeped into her clothing, out of my head.
“Why do you have that look on your face?”
“What look?”
“That concerned, older brother look that says ‘I’m about to lecture you, so you better listen.’”
I slice my fork through the salmon and scoop up the meat with some rice, not missing the mango salsa I decided to make last minute. “I’m not going to lecture you.”
“Bullshit,” she says with a laugh. “You fail to realize that I know you—well—and you’re about to lecture me, especially after the enforced wine restriction.”
Sighing, I push a piece of asparagus with my fork and glance up at my sister. “I’m concerned, Coraline.”
“Ah, do I know you, or what?” she asks, placing a piece of asparagus in her mouth.
“Do you blame me? Your behavior is erratic—”
“How so?”
“You’re drinking at night, you’re never here, you’re—”
“And what exactly do you think I’m doing, Arlo?”
Treading carefully, I say, “You’re exhibiting the same kind of behavior that—”
“I’m going to stop you right there.” She holds up her fork for emphasis. “I might be sad that I’m getting divorced, but I’m also happy that I’m out of that toxic relationship. You don’t need to worry about me, Arlo. I know what I’m doing.”
“And what is that?”
She sips from her water glass and gently sets the cup down. “I’ve been seeing my therapist, trying to get my head on straight.”
“You’ve been seeing Dr. Fulkner again?”
She shakes her head. “No. I didn’t feel like falling asleep during my session from his boring voice. I found someone new.”
“Who is it?”
She rolls her eyes. “You’re not going to drop this, are you?”
“No.”
“You’re insufferable.” She takes a bite of the salmon and groans. “Insufferable but knows how to cook one hell of a salmon.” I’m rewarded with a smile, which I needed. “I also appreciate you, big brother. I know this isn’t ideal, but it’s where life has me right now.”
I wait a few seconds. “I know I’m badgering, but my concern runs deep, Coraline.”
Her fork pauses on her plate and she looks up at me. Sincerity is in her eyes when she says, “I’ll never do that again, Arlo.”
I solemnly nod. “If it’s ever in the realm of your thoughts, you come to me immediately.”
She reaches across the table and takes my hand. “I will. You might drive me crazy, but you know I’ll come to you.”
“Thank you.” Knowing that’s the best I’ll get from her right now, there’s no point pushing. Times like these, I wish we had a proper, caring mom here. To be a kinder, more empathetic shoulder to lean on than I am. Coraline deserves the world, as her heart is gold.
God, I hope I never see her so broken ever again. Not sure my heart would withstand that. Twice.
“Is that why you’ve been grumpy the last few days? I mean, you’re always grumpy, but the slamming of kitchen cabinets has been more frequent than normal.”
“I’m surprised you’ve been around to hear the slamming of the cabinets.” I smirk.
“Lots of walks,” she answers, and I hate that a part of me doesn’t believe her. “So, what’s going on? A new student driving you crazy? Remember that one kid you used to bitch about all the time? What was his name . . . Needlepoint, or something?
“Neanderpoint. Will Neanderpoint.”
“Yes, that’s him. He’d spend the entire class contradicting everything you said. That kid was my hero.”
“That kid is currently failing out of college. His mom emailed me this past Spring asking if I would tutor him over the summer. I ignored that email.”
“Hey”—Coraline tilts her head to the side—“you’re an educator, Arlo. You need to help out all kids, not just the ones who nod and smile at everything you say.”
“Fuck that. I’m not about to be mentally abused because some dipshit kid doesn’t know how to shut up. He’s failing because he doesn’t believe what the professors are telling him, and he tries to tell them differently. There’s ignorance and there’s indifference. That kid is indifferent.”