Again, the urge to race upstairs comes over me, this time to check on both Lola and Lyndall. But I don't.
I go down to the kitchen, and sure enough, on my fridge is a schedule.
My sister's got extra lessons tonight, but she should be?—
The front door bangs.
"Lola! Enzo! Put your clothes on! I'm home!"
I slap my finger against the lesson's spot on the fridge. "Yep, there she is. Like clockwork."
"What's like clockwork?" My sister jumps down the last two steps into the kitchen.
"You."
"Where's Lola?"
I try to be nonchalant because the itch to find her is growing inside. "Probably upstairs. Haven't checked."
"You just got back, too." She nods, putting her hands on her hips. "Back off a little, Enzo. Try to tone yourself down a little."
"What are you talking about?"
"You. I know what you're like when it comes to some stuff, but I've been around, you know?"
I don't, and I definitely don't want to know what that means because it sounds like it means pulling dicks off asshole boys.
"And you're usually cucumber when it comes to girls."
"On the vine in the sun, or vegetable crisper?"
"Crisper. But now you're acting like an idiot. I know why, but Lola doesn't."
"We're talking about Lola?"
She rolls her eyes at me. "Of course, we are. I just don't want you to scare her and be like that vintage movie."
"Which movie?"
My sister looks at me like I should know. "Fatal Attraction. I saw Dad watching it one night, anyway. I think you need to reel in the crazy a little because not all girls find it cute."
"I'm not trying to be cute. I never try to be cute. I'm not a fucking fourteen-year-old."
"Neither am I. And I'm just saying stop it."
"Protecting her? You? Please tell me, Lyndall, because I'd love to fucking know."
She drops her arms. "I know you're giving her space or whatever, but she's still locked up, and you're trying to make it up to her by buying her a ton of gifts. You did that when you murdered Gilbert."
I stare at her as she stabs me in the fucking heart. "I didn't kill Gilbert."
"You did. I didn't even get a proper burial."
I hold out my hand and put up a finger with each point. "Gilbert was a fish. He lived his life in a plastic bag for a while. You overfed him."
Her bottom lip trembles.
"You had him for three days. He was old. I gave him a burial at sea. I got you Muriel."
