Wake by Abria Mattina Page A

money to cancer research projects. Girly little Elise wouldn’t have done anything like that unless someone close to her had cancer—me.
    I find her curled up on the backseat of Eric’s car, holding her knees and crying. She’s locked all the doors.
    “Open up.” I tap on the window and she gives me the finger.
    “Come on, open up. We’ll go get food somewhere—I’ll take you for ice cream or something.” That’s the universal comfort food for girls, right?
    “Go away !”
    I give her some time and space to calm down, but when I return to the car after fourth period, she’s still sitting in the back seat. She only opens the door when I suggest that we cut classes for the rest of the day and go home early. When Mom and Dad come home they find us on the couch in the den, watching Harry Potter . They take one look at Elise—full Hogwarts uniform, round glasses, wand in hand—and say, “Bad day, sweetie?”
     

Saturday
     
    I wake up to find Elise in my room, standing in front of my closet mirror with one of my hats on.
    “What are you doing?”
    She tugs the toque off and her hair sticks up in all directions. We both inherited that unfortunate genetic trait. “Do you think it would look good if I dyed my hair blonde?”
    “No. You’d get called a blonde ditz all the time and your Harry Pothead costume would look even dumber.”
    “Only if I kept wearing Gryffindor colors.” She twists a short lock of her hair around her finger, frowning. “Maybe I’ll dye it red like yours.”
    “What the hell do you mean, like mine?”
    Elise huffs. “You’re so sensitive.”
    “Put my hat back where it belongs.” I roll over and drop the pillow over my head to broadcast ‘go away.’ It doesn’t work. A few seconds later I feel the mattress dip as Elise climbs on.
    “Forget dyeing it,” she says. “Maybe I should go with extensions.”
    “Elise, you seem to be laboring under the delusion that I am your sister. If you want to talk about girly shit like your hair, go to Mom.”
    “But Jemmy,” she whines, and flops down on the pillows next to me. “Mom’s busy. And you’re honest.”
    I hold the pillow tighter over my face to muffle my groan. “Don’t get extensions. Your hair’s too short; it’ll look like shit.”
    I shouldn’t have encouraged her. She snuggles up to me and asks more of my opinion. “Maybe I’ll just dye the front part? I could do something edgy like blue.”
    “Or you could act your age and get a boyfriend.” She makes injured puppy sounds at that. Elise has mastered the art of being the spoiled youngest child. She can play us all like violins.
    “Sorry.”
    “But while we’re on the subject, you could use a girlfriend.”
    I yawn. “Yeah, right. Know anyone interested in emaciated bald guys?”
    “Your personality is the bigger turn-off,” she says, and pats my head. Fucker.
     
    *
     
    I get up and take a shower as an excuse to make Elise leave me alone. A big fat day of nothing stretches in front of me. The school dance is tonight, but hell if I’m going. It’ll be a quiet evening without Elise for once.
    By the time I get out of the shower I can hear Harry Potter playing downstairs, and decide I need to get out of here. I get dressed and ask to borrow Mom’s car.
    “Where are you going?”
    “Visiting some friends.” I can see what friends? written on her face before Eric tactfully blurts it out.
    “School friends.”
    “Did you grow this friend in a petri dish in Bio?” I take off my shoe and throw it at him.
    “Eric, that’s enough.”
    “He threw a shoe at me!”
    Mom gives me a disapproving look, but she’s been prone to letting my shenanigans slide since I got sick. I get off with just an apology to Eric, but I just know he’s going to mess with my stuff while I’m gone as payback.
    Mom sighs and tells me to have the car back by seven. It’s loaned to me on the condition that I drive Elise and her friends to the dance.
    At first I just drive