room 207 | shyland ✓

one

ryland's pov

"move, squirt." my older brother grunted, brushing past my smaller frame and knocking me slightly.

austin has always been taller, broader, more headstrong. the better brother. higher grades, star athlete, cheerleader girlfriend and a guaranteed sport scholarship to one of the many universities that never hesitated to contact him. the most popular boy at bridgebrooke high. he was the brother who was brought up at family meals, fussed over at school events and followed by freshmen girls who were so ridiculously in love with him.

and me? i was just the skinny junior; the one who looked smaller than other boys his age and maybe a little pale; austin adams' little brother. that was my label, dark and striking in black marker pen across my forehead. i'd get pats on the back from his fellow baseball players as i stumbled through the school hallways, blinded by his shadow. it wasn't that my parents didn't love me, of course they did. but austin took priority. always.

perhaps it was that i was the middle child, too. that must have contributed to the minor significance i grasped so tightly between my fingertips. morgan, my younger sister, was only twelve and was still in middle school, and she would never be affected by austin's shadow. maybe his legacy would tint her smile when teachers called the register and heard her surname, but she would never drown in his presence and have the silent screams of just wanting to be heard be stampeded on by people who are supposed to care.

my sixteenth birthday had been a few months ago, and i'd spent it with my only friend. garrett watts. he was a nice boy, a little out of place and introverted when it came to our school society and the overhanging cliff of popularity, but he was nice. this was the singular thing i clung on to. we had gone down to the bowling alley beside the centre of our town and played a couple of rounds (each time garrett winning due to his unnatural height) before heading home our separate ways. we weren't the kind of friends who had sleepovers or bonded over withheld secrets and cups of hot cocoa; we were there for each other and that alone was enough.

now, it was the end of the first week back of school and like the majority of juniors in my school, i was already drowning in school work and the stresses of exams. once my brother had almost knocked me off my feet, he jumped up onto the kitchen counter and sat nonchalantly as our mother began to cook us dinner. seemingly, his day had gone a lot better. it was the start of his senior year and no doubt would he breeze through it with his eyes closed, head spinning from illegal alcohol intake that our parents were none the wiser to.

leaning against the off-white doorframe of our kitchen, i carefully watched the following interaction take place.

"hey, mom?" austin asked as he cracked open a can of coke and took a sip.

my mother, hair pinned up atop of her head and an apron strapped around her waist, met his glance with a tired but loving smile. she worked too hard, taking anything the world would throw at her and bouncing from job to job as though it were her differing taste in music. right now, she worked shifts at the local diner monday to thursday, and fit in hair dressing on the weekend. how she did it i was clueless, and ever since i can remember we have been grappling to keep hold of the roof over our head. life wasn't as picture-perfect as everyone perceived.

"yes, honey? look, is this about having a party here next week, because i've already said no-"

thank god.

austin broke out into a smile, shaking his head in amusement and running a hand through his long quiff of dark hair. "no, no. i was wondering if shane could come round tonight?"