Sullivan Siblings

XIV

"Oh my gosh!" I squeal, staring in the glass window in disbelief. I pull Odin's arm so he stops walking to look at the large candy display with me.

"You know that's a no." Odin laughs and tugs me forward. I loosen my grasp on his arm so he can't jerk me around.

"But Odin, there's those white candy sticks! Those two in a pack Popeyes cigarettes!" I shield the window from fluorescent lights reflecting the store back to me, consumers looking at other displays, the big square tiles, coolers over my right shoulder filled with all sorts of juices and gatorades.

"No way!" Odin grins enthusiastically and rubs his hands together. I stare at him, a little hurt that he has to be so sarcastic about it. "Let's buy the whole damn case!"

"You're not funny," I pout, sticking my big bottom lip out and crossing my arms over my chest.

"Just like you aren't cute," my brother quickly retorts.

"Remember Halloween when I was, like, seven?" I ask with a pointed glare at him. I'd wanted to be a fairy but he refused to let me wear a dress and I was stuck being Darth Vader from Hollis's costume the year before. It did not make sense. Darth Vader was basically a long black dress! "We all sat around the fire pit smoking 'cigarettes' but really we were sucking on Popeyes candy sticks?"

"Yeah..." Odin narrows his eyes at me.

"Oh hey, guys! Look! There's those Popeyes candy sticks!" Levi pipes up from behind us. Ivan sent him with us to make sure Odin didn't do anything drastic. It is a bit disconcerting that Odin is pretending everything between us is fine and dandy when it is very much not so. Not that the bruises on my arms are any indication....

"Okay, Huxley, Simon Says steal some Popeyes," Odin orders. His sadistic grin is menacing.

"Thou shalt not steal," Levi mutters quietly. He stuffs his hands in his jean pockets and hunches his shoulders in. Ivan made us all memorize the Ten Commandments when we were ten years old. Not that Odin and Levi follow them all very well.

"Should it be a teaspoon or a tablespoon of butter...?" Odin places his thumb and pointer finger on his chin in a thinking expression and muses aloud for my benefit. I swallow saliva, my throat aching. I might 'steal' from my brothers but they know I'll give them their clothes back. I might pout and throw tantrums but I never deliberately try do anything bad. It's a hard pill to swallow, one I'd never thought of doing in a million years.

"I'm going to the truck," Levi mutters. He knows Odin won't do anything physical in public. That is Ivan's concern. I don't think Ivan knows just how much Odin screws with us mentally.

I walk to the candy display, my hands clammy. My stomach twists from nausea. I gag at the thought of Odin forcing butter in my mouth and holding my lips closed until I swallow it. That is what helps me actually pick up a pack of Popeyes candy sticks and shove them in my pocket. When I step back from the display, a woman is staring at me. Odin juts his chin to the door so I walk there, my toes sliding on the floor because I do not want to cross the threshold with stolen items.

"That girl is stealing!" Odin shouts, getting the attention of everyone in the store. "Someone stop her!"

"I seen her put something in her pocket!" The woman adds, pointing at me. I freeze at the doorway, my face turning red. My heart skips a beat while I stick my hand back in my pocket, feeling the Popeye's cigarettes. The box is small and the edges are sharp as I take it out of my pocket and hold it out to the worker that walked up to me.

"I'm so sorry!" I exclaim, wiping tears from my eyes. Odin is laughing behind him, that vindictive look in his eyes that I've come to despise.

"Is that all?" The worker asks, an unimpressed look on his face. I mutely nod, turning around to walk outside. It's just my luck I smack nose first into the glass swinging door. My nose leaves a trail of grease as I fall to the floor. I scramble up, blinded by tears as laughter jeers from bystanders. My fingers shake so I curl them into fists and shove them in Silas' sweats pockets. A new customer is coming in and holds the door open for me, a concerned look on her face.