“Bailey, get up,” he instructs, keeping his voice even.
“No. I’m sleeping,” I argue, closing my eyes again, and I shouldn’t be surprised when he shoves me harder this time.
“We’re leaving. Get up.”
My eyes flash open, and I scowl at Henry standing over me.
“Bailey, don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” Hunter adds.
My mind is muddled, and I can barely keep my thoughts straight. My ears are ringing as I finally look at my sister.
“Why is she here?” I wobble as I sit up, the words dripping with venom. “I don’t want her here. Kaitlyn, I told you not to call her.” I try to soften my voice when I look for Kaitlyn, but she’s standing at the edge of the living room.
She looks so damn disappointed in me.
“I didn’t call Mira,” she says, and I hate that I’ve let Kait down like this.
I turn back toward Henry and Mirabelle, giving into my anger. “Then why the fuck is she here?” I ask, staring directly at Mirabelle. Maybe I can make her hate me as much as I hate myself right now.
It only makes me feel worse seeing the devastation on her face, but I don’t have to see it for long because Henry’s clearly had enough. He grabs my arm, pulling me to my feet and along with him as I trip over my own feet trying to keep up.
My stomach is churning when we get to the car, and he opens the door for me, shaking his head. I almost wish he’d hit me because it might feel better than the anger inside me. “She’s here because you’re her brother, and she loves you. She’s not the enemy. I don’t know who is, but I can sure as shit tell you it’s not Mirabelle.”
Hit me, please.
“You don’t know everything, Henry,” I say roughly, moving to get in the car.
Hunter climbs in the other side a few moments later, turning toward me. “What the hell is going on with you?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I mumble, dragging a hand over my face.
None of it matters anymore.
I’m sitting on the couch, staring at my parents as they continue berating me for what happened last night. Hunter is next to me, tapping his hand anxiously on his knee.
“I don’t even know what to say to you both right now, but especially you, Bailey. What the hell were you thinking getting drunk at school? School, of all places! Do you have any idea how lucky you are the school didn’t call the police?” Mom stares me down, losing her infamous temper, before leveling Hunter with the same glare. “You’re supposed to lookout for your brother. How could you not tell us he’d quit soccer?”
“Mom, I was trying to help Bailey—” Hunter tries to say. I’d like to blame it on the fact I’m still a little drunk, but I can’t help but laugh. They’re supposed to be the parents. It’s not Hunter’s fault they didn’t notice.
“What part of this is funny?” Dad asks, his quiet tone on the opposite side of the spectrum as Mom’s. “You could have ruined your future today before you even have a chance to make something of yourself.”
Mom pinches the bridge of her nose, exhaling a sharp breath. “Why? Why would you do this? I know we’ve raised you better than this, and you’ll be spending your five-day suspension thinking about how you plan to take accountability for this mistake,” Mom says, and again, I laugh.
“Bullshit,” I mutter to myself.
Out of the corner of my eye, Hunter turns toward me, bumping my leg with his knee.
“Excuse me?”
Normally, the edge in her voice would have me immediately backtracking, but knowing what I know, I refuse to look away.
I clear my throat, making sure there’s no mistaking me. “I said bullshit. No one here takes accountability for their actions, especially you and Dad.” It’s the closest I’ve come to calling them out on the lies they’ve told.
Dad’s eyes widen, and he straightens in his seat. “Hunter, go to your room,” he instructs, and I roll my eyes.
Hunter’s gaze goes back and forth between us.
“If it’s okay, I want to stay?—”
