Lightbringer by K.D. McEntire Page B

dropped beside her brother and stretched as far as she could, pointing to a set of boots way at the back. Jabber was under the bed but she had no worries about Jon noticing him—her brother couldn't see ghosts. “Those. Right there. Go get ‘em, Stretch.”
    “Shut up,” Jon muttered, blushing, but he obligingly buried himself under the bed to snag her boots for her. He'd shot up over the summer, going from the shortest kid in his middle school to the tallest freshman at MVHS. The Spartans wanted him on the team but, while he enjoyed shooting hoops in the backyard, he was miserable at actual basketball and had flubbed the tryouts.
    Despite his two left feet and numerous double dribbles, Coach Cory had still offered Jon a second-string place and the opportunity to get better. But Jon was shy and bookish, hunched over and unhappy with his sudden height and sloping gut. He declined gracefully. Wendy would watch him some nights, though, playing Horse alone, and she didn't miss the longing there. Jon had recently begun eating half their weekly grocery budget by himself.
    “You know,” Wendy said, expertly slipping into the corset under her shirt while Jon sucked in his gut and struggled to reach her shoes, “Chel didn't mean half the stuff she said last week.”
    “Yes she did,” came the muffled reply from beneath the bed. Her boots flipped out to the middle of the floor, and Jon wormed his way backwards from underneath the bed. He surfaced, red faced and dusty. “Just cuz she regrets it now doesn't mean that she didn't mean it then.”
    “Look, girls are weird,” Wendy tried again as she fastened the last hook on the corset. “I know I was, freshman year.” She grabbed her jeans and wiggled into them, inwardly cursing her stupid hips. Sucking in, she flopped backwards on the bed and forced the zipper up, buttoning quickly as soon as she was able. They'd soften and loosen over the day, but struggling into jeans in the morning was always the worst.
    “Don't you dare tell her I said this, but they'll break up and then Chel'll be liveable again,” she added. Fully dressed, Wendy slid her nightshirt over her head and threw it at her laundry hamper. It missed.
    “Don't care,” Jon muttered. “You gonna eat the eggs, or what?”
    “Fine, whatever. I don't have time for this.” Wendy pawed through her drawers for socks and a light jacket. She'd found getting away with corsets as a top at school was much easier when there was a jacket always on hand. “You two figure it out yourselves. Is there any toast?”
    “Wheat, yeah. Is that all you want? No eggs?”
    “Nah. Be the best brother in the whole wide world and grab me a slice? I got in late.”
    “I heard.” The finality in Jon's voice caused Wendy to pause in the middle of pulling on her socks and look up. He was frowning deeply, pale and still. “Dad was asking us yesterday if we knew if you were up to anything, you know, skeezy.”
    “Great,” Wendy muttered, tapping her tongue ring against the backs of her front teeth in irritation. “Thanks for the advance warning.”
    “I can't believe he'd think Eddie and you do drugs, and then he completely misses Chel's…you know.” Jon threw his hands in the air. “You're the biggest prude I know. Dad's just been…weird, lately, you know? I mean, come on, I've had more dates than you.”
    “Okay, got your point, you can stop now.” Wendy yanked on her boots. “Have you seen my makeup case? The black one?”
    “Chel borrowed it. I think it's in the bathroom.” Jon let her push past him and then ambled down the stairs. “Butter on your toast?”
    “Please!” she called. “Hey Eddie!”
    “Hey what?” he yelled from downstairs.
    “How we doing on time?”
    There was a pause as Eddie checked his watch. “Don't cake it on, princess, and we'll be right as rain!”
    The bathroom was bare of her makeup and Wendy didn't feel like wading through the fashionista disaster zone that was Chel's bedroom.