Chapter 3

- But injustice kills me! I like working for the school paper, but I never agreed to keep quiet! And if there are problems in families with adopted teens, then who should talk about it if not teens?.. Did you know Tilda Strong from tenth grade ran away from home twice this summer alone?

- And?

- There has to be a reason! I do not believe it is all about her personality and bad heredity, like her parents claim. That's nonsense!

I look at Alex and laugh. If there is anyone who does not give a damn about lacrosse or fights in the school showers, it is my brother. My brother cares about journalism and literature. Oh, right, and the fucking fates of miserable people who, by and large, do not care about Alex at all.

As always, his hair is a mess and, unlike mine, looks as if he has been running his fingers through it all day. His dry lips are bitten, and there are marker stains on his palms.

- Dude, can you live one day for yourself? - I say, not for the first time. - Without thinking about other people? Why the hell are you busting your ass, Alex?!

But I know the answer myself: he cannot. That is who he is, believing in the best and giving people a chance. Providence, while handing us equal shares of the same genes in our mother's womb, split us into light and dark. That is why I see what he never will. And, I suppose, the other way around. Because when I look at sweet little blonde Tilda Strong, I see only a lying bitch and a skilled manipulator, ready to put a noose around anyone who will not let her suck him dry. And yes, her adoptive parents are right. There are no damn reasons. She was just born that way!

Senior girls walk past toward the parking lot, and my crooked smile catches their attention.

- Hi, boys! How are you? - one of them says, but I choose another, the one with the bigger tits and the thing I need in her eyes: interest. I answer:

- Hey, Chloe. You look great!

- Need a ride home, Carter? We have an extra half hour!

Nice offer. I like it. I pretend to think it over, while Alex quickly shakes his head, so decisively it is as if he is afraid of being anywhere near girls at all:

- No, thanks! I am staying. I want to wait for Lena. Her music lesson is almost over. I promised her we would stop by Bobby's cafeteria. We... we have a reason, - he suddenly says, embarrassed.

Predictable as hell. The girls and I exchange puzzled looks. But it is Friday, there is nowhere to hurry, and those damn few minutes alone with my brother do mean something to me.

- Sorry, girls, - I shrug, - another time. Today I want to watch my brother finally kiss his girl. You heard him: he has a reason!

The older girls leave laughing, Alex blushes, and I lift my eyebrows:

- What is wrong, Al? It is not my fault you still cannot bring yourself to do it. And yes, I think it is funny! I never understood what you found in your skinny Teal when there are so many pretty Chloes around!

I turn my head and thoughtfully follow the girls with my eyes. Thinking aloud, I say:

- Sure, you probably would not get to sleep with them, but they would teach you how to kiss. Mm, Al? I know what I am talking about. It is not too late to catch up with them!

Of course Alex gets angry. He jumps up from the bench and throws through his teeth:

- Asshole! Don't even start! It is none of your business!

- Takes one to know one! - I shoot back easily. - Of course it is not my business. I have enough trouble with our half-wit sister without letting another boring little kid blow my brains out! What, Alex, are you going to wait until she turns eighteen to become a man? Don't make me laugh! You are almost seventeen. In a year you will dump her yourself out of boredom, because you will get tired of using your hand!

- "She" has a name. Lena. And you know it!

- So what? Are you suggesting I make friends with her?

The corner of Alex's shirt collar is folded inward again, an old habit of the dreamy boy who used to tell our sister and me made-up stories when we were kids. For as long as I can remember, carelessness like that in other people has always irritated me, but the strange thing is, that irritation never extended to my brother.

- I think that would be nice! At least Lena would come to our house! I do not understand, Carter, - Alex wrinkles his forehead, studying me. - Why do you always want to seem worse than you really are? I know you better than anyone. You are not like that!

Here he goes again. I shake my head and lazily correct him:

- That is not quite how it works, Al. I am not like that for you. There is a difference. You want to see me as better than I am. But I am not.

I know he will argue. He will never get tired of dragging me over to the light side, no matter what it costs him.

- You are!

My exhale comes out hoarse.

- Just do not switch on nag mode, Al, or I will regret not leaving with Chloe.

- Wasn't planning to, - comes the stubborn answer. - And I am not keeping you!

Okay. I grab the handle of my bag and stand up. Sling it over my shoulder. We both hate fighting, but if he really wants to, why not?

- Then what exactly are you doing? - I point out, not without irritation. - We have been talking about you for five minutes, and you still have not asked how my practice went. But forget it, golden boy. I am leaving!

- Wait!

Alex's face changes, and he catches me by the elbow. Stops me, turning me toward him.

- Sorry, Carter. I did not mean to hurt you. It is just that you act like a villain, and I am tired of trying to explain it. If you do not care how other people see you, I do! Every time I get a certificate for good grades, I keep asking myself: why me and not you? Because you and I both know which one of us is not only stronger, but smarter. It has always been that way, Carter!

- And it will stay that way! - I snap. - And you had better keep your mouth shut!

- But why?! - Alex asks, honestly bewildered.

- Because villains are always craftier and smarter. Didn't you know? In the dark corners of their souls, they hide the things that scare people and make people take them seriously. Feel the difference?.. I do not care about other people's opinions or about recognition in anyone's eyes. I will not let anyone convince me I have some super mission to save this fucking world. Not even you, Al!

I throw my bag back onto the bench and spread my arms.

- Look at me! - I do not ask my brother; I demand it. - I am free! I can do whatever I want! Meanwhile you have spent two years cranking out stupid little articles on Moran's orders! Hoping she will appreciate your effort? Don't deny it! I bet the old toad pats you on the shoulder every time, saying you are the pride of Ellison and the future of Sandfield Rock! And then laughs behind your back, knowing you will keep cranking out those shitty little articles even when you know you are stuck in the mud! Instead of writing your own stories, the way you always wanted!

Alex stares at me, stunned, and I do not stop. Not now.