Mine’s almost done, so I have some spare time.”
She has no life, she means. “Why don’t you work up a first draft and I’ll see if I can sign off on it.” Like I don’t have way better things to do than work on some poster, which is apparently supposed to be on “what heroism means to me.” All I have to do is find a magazine picture of a kitten in a tree, glue it on my poster board, and I’m done. No problem.
Amelia scoffs. “I’m not doing your homework for you.”
“Then mind your own business. I don’t need your help.”
“But it’s due Wednesday, Damien. Wednesday .” She puts her hands on her hips, letting that sink in.
“And tomorrow’s only Tuesday.” Besides, I’m the idiot villain kid who thought a bomb was actually going off in class. Miss Monk’s expectations of me can’t be too high. She’ll probably give me a gold star just for getting my name right.
Jess waddles back over and holds out the crayon she brought me. Not a pen, but close enough. I whisper to her again and ask her to get me a piece of paper. When she runs off, I say to Amelia, “Wow, look at that. I wanted something, and it just appeared. Almost like a superpower.”
“Shut up.”
I tap the end of the crayon, studying Amelia. “Can you put your arm out a little? And turn to the left.”
“Why?”
Jess returns with a slightly used piece of paper that has one of her drawings on one side. I press it against my leg and ready the crayon. “Because I’m going to draw a Velociraptor on Alex’s cast later and I need to practice first.”
She clenches her fists and makes a frustrated noise of rage.
“What? I thought you wanted to be a model.”
Before she can say anything to that, my phone chimes and a text from Kat pops up. Sorry I missed your calls—hanging in the commons. It’s so loud in here! What’s up?
I get up from the couch and head for the privacy of my room, already texting her back. Call me.
“Fine,” Amelia says in a snotty voice. “Be a jerk like that and don’t accept my help on anything. It’s not like I care if you fail. But I think you might like to know that that’s not your room anymore.”
“What?” My phone rings, but I don’t answer it yet, too busy raising a skeptical eyebrow at Amelia and putting my hand on the knob anyway. I mean, I think I know my own room.
“Dad didn’t tell you?” She bites her lip in mock concern, though I can already see the smug “I know something you don’t” smile creeping over her.
“Didn’t tell me what?”
Gordon hurries over from the kitchen. “I’ll take it from here, Amelia.” He looks down his nose at her, indicating she should go somewhere else and mind her own damn business.
She gets this self-satisfied grin on her face and takes my spot on the couch next to Jess. She tries to whisper something in Jess’s ear, but Jess pushes her away, having none of it.
“There’s been a change of plans,” Gordon says, right as my phone stops ringing and says I have a missed call from Kat. “Alex is moving back into his old room, and you’re moving into the attic.”
I laugh. Gordon thinks he’s so hilarious. That or he’s delusional. “Ha. Good one.”
“I’m serious. Helen and I talked it over earlier, and after Alex’s accident, we feel it’s not safe for him to be living up there.”
Because the stairs really are a deathtrap, he means.
I glance over my shoulder at Amelia, to see if she’s eavesdropping, which of course she is. Her eyes go wide when I catch her watching us and she looks away super obviously. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” I tell Gordon, my hand on the knob to my room, “and if you’ll just step into my office, I think we can clear it up.”
“Grab a few things for tonight. We’ll work on actually switching everything this weekend. All right?”
I swallow and look over at the steep, rickety attic stairs. The railing is practically falling off. And he seriously expects me to live
She has no life, she means. “Why don’t you work up a first draft and I’ll see if I can sign off on it.” Like I don’t have way better things to do than work on some poster, which is apparently supposed to be on “what heroism means to me.” All I have to do is find a magazine picture of a kitten in a tree, glue it on my poster board, and I’m done. No problem.
Amelia scoffs. “I’m not doing your homework for you.”
“Then mind your own business. I don’t need your help.”
“But it’s due Wednesday, Damien. Wednesday .” She puts her hands on her hips, letting that sink in.
“And tomorrow’s only Tuesday.” Besides, I’m the idiot villain kid who thought a bomb was actually going off in class. Miss Monk’s expectations of me can’t be too high. She’ll probably give me a gold star just for getting my name right.
Jess waddles back over and holds out the crayon she brought me. Not a pen, but close enough. I whisper to her again and ask her to get me a piece of paper. When she runs off, I say to Amelia, “Wow, look at that. I wanted something, and it just appeared. Almost like a superpower.”
“Shut up.”
I tap the end of the crayon, studying Amelia. “Can you put your arm out a little? And turn to the left.”
“Why?”
Jess returns with a slightly used piece of paper that has one of her drawings on one side. I press it against my leg and ready the crayon. “Because I’m going to draw a Velociraptor on Alex’s cast later and I need to practice first.”
She clenches her fists and makes a frustrated noise of rage.
“What? I thought you wanted to be a model.”
Before she can say anything to that, my phone chimes and a text from Kat pops up. Sorry I missed your calls—hanging in the commons. It’s so loud in here! What’s up?
I get up from the couch and head for the privacy of my room, already texting her back. Call me.
“Fine,” Amelia says in a snotty voice. “Be a jerk like that and don’t accept my help on anything. It’s not like I care if you fail. But I think you might like to know that that’s not your room anymore.”
“What?” My phone rings, but I don’t answer it yet, too busy raising a skeptical eyebrow at Amelia and putting my hand on the knob anyway. I mean, I think I know my own room.
“Dad didn’t tell you?” She bites her lip in mock concern, though I can already see the smug “I know something you don’t” smile creeping over her.
“Didn’t tell me what?”
Gordon hurries over from the kitchen. “I’ll take it from here, Amelia.” He looks down his nose at her, indicating she should go somewhere else and mind her own damn business.
She gets this self-satisfied grin on her face and takes my spot on the couch next to Jess. She tries to whisper something in Jess’s ear, but Jess pushes her away, having none of it.
“There’s been a change of plans,” Gordon says, right as my phone stops ringing and says I have a missed call from Kat. “Alex is moving back into his old room, and you’re moving into the attic.”
I laugh. Gordon thinks he’s so hilarious. That or he’s delusional. “Ha. Good one.”
“I’m serious. Helen and I talked it over earlier, and after Alex’s accident, we feel it’s not safe for him to be living up there.”
Because the stairs really are a deathtrap, he means.
I glance over my shoulder at Amelia, to see if she’s eavesdropping, which of course she is. Her eyes go wide when I catch her watching us and she looks away super obviously. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” I tell Gordon, my hand on the knob to my room, “and if you’ll just step into my office, I think we can clear it up.”
“Grab a few things for tonight. We’ll work on actually switching everything this weekend. All right?”
I swallow and look over at the steep, rickety attic stairs. The railing is practically falling off. And he seriously expects me to live
Similar Books
