“No phones, Dad. Gigi’s rules. Remember?”
“Yes, we’re all following that, aren’t we? Nice job with the plumber.”
“He did that himself.”
“Not the raw-chicken part.”
His eyes aretwinkling.
And honestly?
I hate that too.
I want my family to get along because we want to get along, not because we take joy in watching one of us throw raw chicken at another.
But we’ll never be that family.
“It slipped.” I turn back around, and this time he doesn’t stop me as I head down the hallway.
I turn the corner to pass the theater, and run into Carter.
“Watch where you’re going,” he grumbles.
Talk about looking tired. He has bags under his eyes, his hair looks like it was used as a bed by Big Bertha, the raccoon we keep chasing out of here, and even his clothes look tired.
Maybe it’s a one-hit wonder, still-trying-to-be-a-rock-star thing. “Up too late murdering people’s ears?” I ask him. When Phoebe lived here, she was constantly complaining about the noise.
I probably would, too, if I were home before he went to bed every night.
One major benefit to not sleeping in general is that Carter’s noise doesn’t bother me.
“Don’t be a dick,” he says.
“I was being funny, Carter.”
“No, you weren’t.”
I wasn’t.
I really wasn’t.
And this is another reason I need to leave.
I’m a much better person when I’m not around the people who taught me to be a dick.
“What’s with the mood?” he asks. “You did what Gigi wanted.”
I’m cringing to myself, and it’s not the question.
It’s the fact that Carter, who’s always been the world’s biggest asshole, is being nice to me. It’s like Gigi has fully beaten him down, and I don’t know who he is anymore.
Not that I knew who he was before we all got here.
“You’re on the internet?” I ask.
He rolls his eyes. “We’re all on the internet, except Phoebe, who’s an idiot.”
“She’s also not living in the school anymore, so it doesn’t matter if she is or isn’t, does it?”
