They Just Don't Know You

Chapter 37

Perrie's POV

Saturday, October 26

"This kid hates me," Jonnie says.

I don't think he's wrong. The 6-month-old baby he's holding is sitting stiff as a board on his knee, red-faced and screaming. Everybody at this party feels sorry for the kid, except Sairah. She's beaming like she's never seen anything so adorable.

"I can practically see her ovaries exploding," Kamille murmurs beside me.

"You're holding her wrong," Karl says. He scoops the baby up in one deft motion, cradling her in the crook of his arm. "Just relax. They can tell when you're nervous." The kid stops crying and gives Karl a giant, toothless grin. Karl tickles her stomach before holding her out towards Jonnie. "Try again."

"No thanks," Jonnie mutters, getting to his feet. "I need a drink."

A pretty, dark haired woman climbs the porch stairs, squeezing Karl's arm as she passes. "You're so good with her!" She's the baby's Mother, Jed Elliott's sister, and we're all hanging out at her house two weeks after John Pinnock's murder attempt like everything's back to normal.

I don't know. Maybe it is, or maybe we're finally figuring out that we haven't been normal for years and it's time to redefine the word.

Jonnie heads for a cooler in the backyard, and Kamille nudges my arm. "No time like the present," she says. 

I glare at my brother's back. "Why is it even my responsibility? He's older. He should extend the olive branch first."

Kamille adjusts her sunglasses. "You thought he was guilty of murder."

"Yeah, well, Jade suspected me at one point. I got over it."

"Jade had known you for less than a month then. She wasn't your brother."

"He didn't even visit me in the hospital!"

She enunciates every word carefully. "You. Thought. He. Was. Guilty. Of. Murder."

"I almost got murdered."

"You could do this all day, or you could be the bigger person." Kamille waits a second, then punches me in the arm. "At least he showed up."

"Alright, fine," I grumble, and take off after Jonnie.

I wasn't sure he'd be here. We've only spoken a couple of times since I was released from hospital, mostly to sort stuff out related to Mom. That's a mess; all of John's assets are frozen, so she's got nothing to her name except a bank account that won't cover more than a couple months' worth of expenses. We'll be moving to Solsbury soon, and while I can't get out of the Pinnock's house fast enough, I don't know what happens after that. Mom hasn't worked in over a year, and my Dad's harder to reach than ever.

We got a semi-lucrative offer to tell our side of the story to a tabloid, but we're not desperate enough to take it. Yet.

Jonnie's at the far corner of the yard, pulling a frosted brown bottle from a blue cooler. He twists the cap off and takes a long sip, then catches sight of me and lowers the bottle. I'm a few feet away when I notice how white his knuckles are. "What's up, little sis?"

"Can I have one?" I ask.

He snorts. "You don't drink."

"I might need to start."

Jonnie reopens the cooler and plunges his hand into its depths, extracting a bottle identical to the one he's holding. He hands it to me, expressionless, and I manage to get the top off without wincing when the sharp edges cut into my palm. I take a tentative sip, waiting for bitterness to explode in my mouth, but it's not half bad. Smooth and almost honey flavoured. I'm nervous and thirsty, and a quarter of the bottle is gone before Jonnie grabs my arm.