I rolled my eyes, so ready to be done with this conversation. Grabbing my bag from the floor, I forgot about the bruises as I slung it onto my shoulder. A hiss slid from my lips before I could stop it.
Twats.I was going to be feeling this one for weeks. I just knew it.
Dominic’s reflection had frozen mid-movement, a strand of hair between his fingers. His dark eyes were intently focused on me.
Whatever. He was probably working out which angle to take next. Dominic was the king of finding my weaknesses and putting them on show.
I wasn’t hanging around to see what flaw he was about to expose this time.
“See you around,” I muttered.
I felt Dominic’s gaze on me through the mirror all the way out the door.
2
Ryan
“Move. We’re gaming in here.”
Max could’ve gone for one of many greetings.Hi, Ryan, how was your day? Alright, mate, been up to anything lately? Hey, Dominic and I are gonna game in here, you want in?
Instead, he simply went with ‘move.’
Classic Max.
I didn’t respond, just turned the page on my book.
“Oi.” A whack hit my foot, sending jarring pain up my body. Several hours later and the bruises were darkening into ones I knew would linger for days. Weeks, if I were especially unlucky. “Stop ignoring me like a baby.”
“I’m not the one making demands like a petulant toddler who doesn’t know any better,” I muttered darkly, turning another page. I wasn’t even reading at this point, but there was no fucking way I was giving in to Max.
Not after what I’d gone through for him today.
“What the fuck did you just call me?”
I looked up at that. My brother was glowering down at me, his nostrils flared. We might have been identical twins, but Ididn’t think I’d ever had that expression on my face. “Why can’t I just sit here while you game?”
“Because I said so,” Max said stubbornly. A key turned in the front door and his expression shifted into a twisted smirk. “Isn’t that your call to go running to Mummy?”
“Fuck off,” I mumbled, getting to my feet and taking my book with me.
His cruel laughter followed me out of the living room and into the hallway. I pretended not to hear it as I pasted on a smile. “Hi, Mum. Need a hand?”
Mum blew a loose strand of hair out of her eyes. Each shoulder held a heavy satchel, while in her hands were several overloaded bags for life. Mum was a teacher at a secondary school in the city centre. She often returned like this—exhausted and carrying far more work than she could accomplish overnight. “Oh, thank you, sweetie. You’re the best.”
I took the bags of marking from her and hid my wince at the sight of her hands. Deep white and red lines cut into her palms and fingers from where the material of the handles had dug into them. “You should’ve called me from the bus stop. I would’ve met you and carried them back for you.”
“You do enough for me, Ryan.” She patted my shoulder and smiled. I screamed internally as pain rippled from my shoulder downwards. “Now, why don’t we go put the kettle on and you can tell me about your day?”
“Sounds great.” I smiled back automatically, already knowing she’d be getting a heavily censored version. This was our routine though. It had been since the night a couple of years ago when I’d crept downstairs for some water, only to hear Mum sobbing to Dad.
“I just don’t understand what more everyone wants from me. I work, and I work, and I work. None of it is ever enough. I could work every hour under the goddamned sun and still bebehind. Then, I come home, and you all expect me to keep going. To keep the house spotless. To have a healthy, homemade dinner on the table. To supervise the boys’ homework and get Ryan to his art classes. It’s all on me, Ray. Can’t you see that?”
The silence that had followed her question suggested that Dad in fact, couldn’t see that. Nothing had changed after that night. It was almost as though he listened to his wife’s frustrations and figured that was enough. That all she needed was to get it off her chest, then she could carry on as normal.
But it wasn’t. Even as a fourteen-year-old, I could see that. Why couldn’t Dad?
From that moment on, I vowed to do whatever I could to make her life a little easier. Whether it was carrying her books in, running the hoover around, or even persuading her I was old enough to get the bus to the art classes I took in the community centre on my own. Whatever was needed to make her smile.
