Page 12 of Sinister

“You mean that Amelia is actually a fifty-year-old creep who likes befriending teenage girls online?” I ask with a throaty chuckle.

“Something like that, yeah.” Sin’s voice is teasing and gentle, as if he wants me to laugh more, lighten up more.

“Not really, no. And even if it is a grown man masquerading as a girl, and a very girly girl, then he has never made me feel unsafe or unheard, so that’s a win in my book!”

Sin has been grinning and chuckling this whole time, and I don’t want him to stop. I want the easy, friendly banter to keep going till it fills up the aching hole in my heart.

But pretty soon, sooner than I’d like, another long stretch of silence unfolds in the room.

Just then, Sin looks around the room, then down at the bed.

“You know,” he says, a mischievous glint in his eye, “I think I remember Elias mentioning something about a hidden stash in here.”

“A stash of what?”

Sin drops to his knees and peers under the bed. “Yeah, let’s see . . .” After a moment of rummaging, he pulls out a small, dusty box. “Bingo!”

He opens the box to reveal several bottles of assorted liquor.

“That’s a lot of expensive alcohol,” I point out.

Sin looks up, his smile widening. “Want some? It might help pass the time.”

I hesitate. I probably shouldn’t. But the thought of sitting here, alone and awkward, waiting for my clothes to dry, feels unbearable.

“Sure,” I say, trying to sound casual. “Why not?”

Sin pulls out a bottle of whiskey and two plastic cups. He pours a generous amount into each cup and hands one to me.

“To broken people,” he says, raising his cup.

“To broken people,” I repeat, clinking my cup against his before taking a sip, the whiskey burning its way down my throat. Soon, my body feels relaxed again.

Sin sits back on the floor, leaning against the bed.

“You know,” he begins, as if getting ready to articulate a very deep thought, “I’ve had my fair share of embarrassing moments, too.”

“Yeah, right!” I retort instantly. “What happened? You didn’t lift as much at the gym as you wanted to? Got some crap from some gym bro?”

“No, really! I was made a fool for a whole day,” Sin says with a voice that’s trying hard to sound solemn.

“So, my sister and her friends,” he starts, already grinning, “they decided it would be hilarious to play a prank on me. I had this big game, and they snuck into my room and redecorated the back of my jersey.”

A real storyteller, this fellow, I think privately, while out loud I ask, “Redecorated?”

“Yeah, they replaced my name with ‘Mr. Sparklepants’ and added a bunch of glitter. Of course, yours truly didn’t notice it until halftime, wondering why everyone was laughing and pointing at me,” Sin says, shaking his head.

I burst out laughing. His words had conjured up a scene that was too hilarious to pass up. “Please tell me there are tons of pictures of you from that day!”

“Forget pictures; there are entire videos of it floating around. Besides, the guys on the team won’t ever let me forget it.”

“Gotta hand it to you, Arnoult,” I say, feeling a bit lighter, “you do know how to make a girl laugh.”

And forget that she almost drowned an hour ago.

“Yeah, I had to laugh it off,” Sin says with a shrug. “I mean, what else can you do? Couldn’t drop out of the team, right? I love the game far too much.”

“Hmm, I sense a lesson coming on,” I say teasingly.