The Summer Contract

CHAPTER 6: Picture Perfect Family?

RYDER

Dash is back in New York after his best friend's birthday weekend. It's a shame because 4th of July weekend is coming up and the whole town will be preparing all week for it, making hard it to sneak around with Billie-Ann.

We agreed not to and I am okay with it because our playground escapades filled my quota and will hold me down during the pause.

The things we did in public and at an establishment built for innocent children to enjoy harmlessly is enough to power me through any dry spells in the future. She let me do everything and I left that playground feeling like I won a million dollars.

We still text and keep in touch which is why I know Dash is gone but sadly, Billie-Ann and I's night is not the thing I go to bed thinking about.

"Hey honey, I brought you a painkiller." My mother walks into my room.

I got in trouble for missing curfew. Which is not my fault because I am 15 but my curfew is still 8:30PM while Levi's 11PM along with everyone our age, Porter doesn't even have one.

"Thank you." I remove the icepack from the side of my stomach. "Lea didn't hear anything did she?"

I plan to protect my baby sister from the true nature of her family for as long as I can but tonight caught me off guard.

"She is asleep, don't worry." My mother wipes the blood under my nose with a warm hand towel as I take two pills.

"I hope it doesn't leave a bruise," I swallow. "Levi invited me for a swim on Friday."

Fourth of July weekend involves fireworks, BBQ and water activities. I don't want to miss out because it's the best part of summer break, I also really love swimming and it's getting old pretending I don't want to do it.

"If it's really bad, I'll let you get another tattoo." My mother pushes a curly strand off my forehead.

"Deal," I smile painfully.

I owe the 2 tribal circles around my bicep to a very sharp letter opener. It makes me look cool to my peers but it hurt like a bitch to cover it up, no matter how long we waited the scar wouldn't heal and was raising suspicion with my soccer coach.

People were shocked to see a pastor's kid with a tattoo at 14 but ruled it off as typical 'PK' behavior when my parents didn't make it a big deal.

"I let him express himself," my father said when he was asked how he felt about it, conveniently leaving out I had to get stiches too.

"Thanks mom." I watch her fight tears as she wipes the cut on my lower lip, "but I got this," I hold her shaky hand to take the towel. "Why do you go start on the brownies."

Mrs Salvatore likes to make things 'better' with baked treats. She claims it helps distract her from everything going on so my father and I entertain it—most times.

She makes cookies for minor assaults like slaps, punches, and mini cuts. Cupcakes for deeper cuts and kicks that leave scars and open wounds. Brownies for bruises that leave a mark and cakes for broken bones and fractures.

I've had 7 cakes so far and too many brownies than I would like to admit.

"And maybe cupcakes too." She puts the blood-soaked cloth back in the bowl and I nod, it does feel like a cupcake night.

"Lea would kill anyone for a red velvet with sprinkles." I suggest when she pauses by the door to look back at me.

"Ryder—"

"I promise, no cake today." I assure as tears prick my eyes but I blink them away.

Crying won't change anything.