Spades

f o u r : depth

| FOUR |
DEPTH

It had been a relatively good Sunday for Isaiah Matthews.

Since the absence of their mother, Faith Matthews, the Matthews had stopped gracing the church with their presence. Instead of sitting in a room with other teenagers listening to some try-hard thirty year old tell him about the dangers of premarital sex (which he unfortunately engaged in) and the statistics of underage drinking (which he contributed to every Friday and Saturday night, give or take a Friday or a Saturday), Isaiah did what he always did on Sunday mornings.

He had come back from jogging with Karim and Logan around eight, shuffled off to his room for a shower and appeared for breakfast with his family. That went as well as it could've, because neither Micah nor Isaiah excused themselves early, and their father only raised his voice twice.

Then, earlier that afternoon, after Karim and his family went for his cousin's wedding, he had played online with River, Shiro, and some other people from around the world.

That had ended in River cursing out the boy from Burkina Faso in French, because he called her 'putain'. Isaiah suggested they only played between themselves when River seemed to have calmed down and wasn't swearing in French on the conference call.

They had been playing some horror game for about two hours when Micah had stormed in to the media room, effectively dampening Isaiah's laughing mood.

Micah had loomed over him, blue eyes blazing with a fury Isaiah never really saw that often. Isaiah as cocked an eyebrow but returned his attention to the game when Micah said nothing.

It was when he was about to fire a shot at River's character just to set her off that he spotted Micah plug out the PlayStation from the wall. It was the latest model, of course, but still susceptible to damage if treated poorly.

"What the fuck?" Isaiah had asked, a little louder than his inside voice. "What the fuck is your problem?"

He was on his feet now, pulling the headset of his head and tossing it on the creamy sofa. He was glaring at the empty socket, itching to plug it back in and control his irritation.

"Shouldn't you be in Swallowton, anyway?" He asked his younger brother bitterly.

Times had changed when Micah became the poster child for teenage angst. Isaiah and Micah didn't ride to Swallowton together anymore. Now, Isaiah drove there alone and Micah took a bus.

Micah didn't respond, but Isaiah didn't really expect him to. He kneeled over the socket and plugged the PlayStation in, before returning to his seat. He took a sip of his Sprite, and glanced away from the loading screen to Micah. He was a little alarmed to see the fury and frustration in his eyes.

"What?"

"Why the fuck would you do that?!" Micah shouted.

"Don't raise your voice at me." Isaiah instructed calmly. "And do what? You're never going to have a discussion if you think I can read your mind to know what you're talking about."

"Mum."

Isaiah blinked. "What about her?"