“Trevor,” I’d said, trying to be polite.
But when his hand barely brushed my hip as I passed him, I knew he was going to be a problem. The kind I couldn’t afford to have right now.
And when it happened again a few days later, it was certain. Trevor was getting added to my list.
Chapter 57
RJ
Time is just a construct, something manmade to divide reality into measurable bits—days, hours, minutes, seconds. Morning, afternoon, evening, night. Breakfast, lunch, dinner.
Arbitrary, all of it.
But digging into people’s pasts, finding their deepest secrets, weaseling into every nook and cranny of their lives, their finances, their dreams and desires, those have no need for arbitrary measures of time.
I eat when my stomach threatens to devour itself. I sleep when my eyes get so bleary I can’t see the screen any longer. I wash when Walker comes in and forces me to do so.
Vaguely, I remember Trish and Jade coming to visit me, but I wasn’t much of a host. Or even a brother.
Trish talked about her new YouTube channel, and Jade mentioned dad getting help for a gambling addiction that shedidn’t know he had, and I didn’t feel worried, excited, relieved, none of that. I felt annoyed that they were here, taking my focus from what I should be doing. The only thing that sparked some emotion was that they’d brought me my bike in a borrowed trailer.
I might need that. And now I don’t have to go pick it up.
Smiling, I joined Trish in teasing Jade when she got moon-eyed and tongue-tied with Walker. I hugged Trish and wished her luck before she went back to school. It probably didn’t look like it, but I tried. I really did.
They didn’t stay long. Trish could tell my mind was elsewhere, so she gave me a weighty look that promised to dig deeper when Jade wasn’t around. I’ll pay for my cageyness, especially about Clara.
I said she was visiting her family. But I’m not the best liar, even after all my practice. I’ve always just held my tongue when it came to the shit I didn’t want anyone else to know about. But that won’t work for this, and I’ve never felt my lack of skill more acutely than under my sister’s questioning gaze.
Then they left, and I could get back to work.
It might have been days, it might have been weeks, but finally, Walker has had enough.
It feels like I passed out five minutes ago, my teeth fuzzy from too much Mountain Dew, when he shoves open my blinds and windows, noisily cleaning my desk. In and out with bags of trash and recycling, piles of dirty dishes swept up in a clatter of ceramic and metal. The smell of fresh cut grass and the hyper call of a chickadee add to the cacophony, forcing me to open my eyes.
“Are you up yet?” he asks.
“No.”
“Then get up.”
“Why?”
Walker strips my blanket off, rummaging through my drawers, throwing shorts and a shirt at me. “Get dressed.”
“I just passed out.”
He’s in my closet next, first one sneaker, then the other smacking against my skin. “Too bad. School starts in two days. You’re taking Jansen for a run. And then we’re having a long talk about how things are going to go from here on out.”
“I have too much to do,” I mutter, pushing my face into my pillow.
“You’re right. And not all of it is behind a screen. So you will get up. You will go for a run. You’ll take a goddamn shower, and then you’ll come to the kitchen and eat an actual meal. Understood?”
I squint at our resident artist. “Who made you boss?”
“Do you want the job?”
No. No, I don’t.
