s t o p s.
‘I’ll sell a few pieces of furniture,’ Mr De Lainey adds. ‘Just to tide us over.’
Jack folds his arms. ‘Great. We’re going to end up on the streets, starving and destitute.’
Sam’s looking anywhere but at Moxie. His pulse flutters, fireflies and knives, and Moxie frowns curiously at him.
Mr De Lainey sighs. ‘It’s not that d … dram … a – TIC.’ It ends in a sneeze and he sloshes tea on the stairs.
Moxie snaps her fingers at Jack. ‘Get the money. And keys. Also your brain, if you can find it.’
‘I’m not going anywhere with you—’
‘We need food!’ She practically stamps her foot. ‘Dad needs a twelve-year nap. Stop being so selfish, Jack.’
Mr De Lainey tries to say something like ‘I’m not that bad’ but he looks exactly that bad.
Jack storms off to search the office, muttering darkly, while Moxie pulls on boots and stuffs her frizz into a ponytail. The baby clings to her leg and sniffles.
Jack returns, car keys jingling. A pang slides down Sam’s arms and he stuffs his fingers in his pocket, because he wants—
No, he doesn’t. He’s fine. He’s over keys.
‘I couldn’t find any money in the office,’ Jack says. ‘And whoever put those blankets in there needs to clean it up. But I got your wallet and we can totally live off a hundred bucks.’
Mr De Lainey frowns. ‘Did I use that emergency money already?’
Sam quickly takes Mr De Lainey’s half-empty mug. ‘Want me to refill this?’
Mr De Lainey blinks for a bleary second. ‘Oh? That’d be great, Sam. I think I’m about to keep you.’ He smiles.
Sam is a war of guilt and pleasure at Mr De Lainey’s words. It wouldn’t be like this if he knew what Sam was.
‘We have to take the baby,’ Moxie says, ‘because I give up trying to put it down and suffering the screaming.’
‘And take Sam,’ Mr De Lainey says, voice thick, ‘so you don’t murder your brother.’
‘Of course I’m taking Sam.’ Moxie sniffs disdainfully. ‘I wouldn’t just leave him.’
It turns out that Moxie grocery shopping is a terrifying thing. She is a burst of violent fire and speed as she storms aisles with a list and clicking pen.
Jack shoves the trolley in her wake and looks bored and offended by everything. ‘We’re going to live off gruel.’
Moxie’s voice turns dangerous. ‘Listen here, Jack. We’re in a tight spot and Dad’s doing the best he can and if you can’t possibly be a decent person, at least pretend, or I will wipe you off the usefulness rating board completely.’
‘You are simply the worst creature,’ Jack says.
Moxie’s smile is sweet poison. ‘At least I was planned while you were an unhappy accident.’
‘That is so not true—’
‘Mum only planned for Jeremy,’ Moxie says. ‘And she’d have so many regrets if she knew how—’
Sam taps her shoulder. ‘Aren’t we shopping?’
‘The puppy has an excellent point,’ Jack growls. ‘And Moxie, you’re not the only one who has a shitty time without Mum, OK?’
They eyeball each other, angry and raw, and Sam flinches. It’s not like he expects the De Laineys to be perfect – he’s not an idiot. But he hates when their wounds show, because he wants to fix it like he would try for Avery, and he can’t. He wishes they’d realise, though, that you can’t fill the hole of a missing mother by carving each other to pieces.
Surprisingly it’s Moxie who caves and strides off, muttering about potatoes and stupid boys.
Jack follows, shoving the trolley with the fussing baby strapped in, and Sam trails behind like a sorry impostor. Usually he fits with Moxie. But the weight of stealing their money burns hollows in his chest.
The baby whines pitifully for Moxie, so Jack plucks it out of the trolley and shoves it at Sam.
‘Whoa,’ Sam says, ‘this is your brother.’
‘It likes you.’
Probably because Sam spends his days pushing it on the swing and lying on his stomach in the grass while the baby uses him as a jumping castle.
He bobs up and down awkwardly.
Jack eyes him and then snorts. ‘You look ridiculous. Get in.’
‘The trolley?’
‘Yes.’ Jack shoves peanut butter and bread out of the way. ‘Quick. I keep trying to get Jeremy to do this but he won’t.’
That seems like a good indication that it’s a bad idea, but Sam has a terrible weakness called: Do Whatever a De Lainey Wants.
He climbs in, knees at his chin, and squishes the baby to his chest. It stops crying and looks interested.
Jack has a devilish spark in his eyes. While Moxie is all sharp edges and paper cuts and Jeremy is buttery sweet and warm – Jack is spiky daring and recklessness.
‘Have you ever been thrown out of a grocery store?’ Sam says.
‘Bring it.’ Jack drags the trolley to his chest and then shoves forward, running like lightning down the aisle before jumping up and hooking his legs around the edges so it shoots forward.
It turns out their combined weight makes the trolley go spectacularly fast. They soar the full length of the store, narrowly missing taking out a Vegemite display. People jump clear with gasps.
They flash past Moxie holding packets of spaghetti and she gives them a sour look.
Jack whoops.
The baby shrieks in delight.
Then Jack attempts to slow them down—
and fails.
They hit the ice cream freezers with a clatter and Sam covers the baby with his arms as peanut butter smacks him in the face.
‘That – was – awesome.’ Jack is still on the floor, his smile delirious.
‘Ow,’ Sam says with a broken face.
The baby pats his cheek. ‘Ow-ow, Sammy.’
Moxie storms over. ‘You are both so embarrassing.’ She snatches the baby off Sam and throws a packet of spaghetti at his head.
He raises his arms in self-defence. ‘Jack’s idea.’
Moxie whirls on Jack. ‘You’re a terrible influence on him. I’m trying to raise him nice and sensibly and you’re turning him into a De Lainey.’
Jack picks himself up, holds out a fist to Sam, and they hit knuckles right as the store manager strides down the aisle.