Kiss Off

Chapter 3

I make it home in time to help my mom put dinner on the table. My dad's lazing in front of the TV catching up on the news, so I decide to startle him with a cold can of root beer to the back of the neck. He makes an odd gurgle in the back of his throat, his chest heaving forward, pulling his body away from the unwelcome chill. Then without looking, he reaches behind him, snags my arm and somehow manages to haul me over the back of his chair and into his lap... where he tickles me until I can't breathe.

"Dad," I manage to gasp, my face doing a terrible job of concealing my misery as laughter bubbles from my lips.

"Say you're sorry," he taunts, pausing his assault for a moment as he keeps his fingers ready to attack again.

"Never!" I belt, lunging from his lap and landing on all fours in the middle of the living room. I quickly crawl away, my dad still working to push himself out of his seat.

"You little fart," he grumbles, laughing as he grunts to get to his feet. "Karen!" he hollers to my mom in the kitchen. "Make sure this brat doesn't get any dessert tonight!"

My mom sticks her head out of the kitchen with a sly grin on her lips. "There's no dessert tonight... unless sweet potatoes count."

My dad's triumph quickly vanishes from his face and he puckers his lips at me in defeat. "Fine," he declares. "You win. This time. But next time, I promise I'll go out and buy the whole family chocolate sundaes and accidentally forget my oldest daughter."

"Everly, make sure your sister is strapped into her chair," my mom says, coming around the corner with a bowl of green beans and BBQ chicken in her hands. "Andrew, James, Luke! Time for dinner!"

The three boys come scurrying around the corner, chairs grinding against the wood floors as they slide into their seats. James snatches a roll from the bread basket and takes a bite just as he catches my dad's warning look from across the table.

"Looks like you're praying tonight," my dad informs him, resting his lips against his folded hands to hide his grin.

Dinner is filled with endless chatter, mainly my brothers and Addy. I swear the four of them never shut up. But I can't really complain. It gives me a moment to just absorb and decompress without having to think. I sort of enjoy this part of my day. It's the getting everyone ready for bed part that I loath. I swear I'm mom number two in this house, but I suppose it's the least I can do for my poor mom who works part time and then has to come home to a house full of hooligans.

Once the kitchen is cleaned up and all the littles are in bed, I slouch down on the couch — much like my dad had been earlier — and stare at the muted TV screen. The news is still playing but I'm not actually seeing anything. There's homework to be done, but for the time being, I don't actually care.

Feeling the couch dip beside me, I turn to find my mom with two steaming cups of tea in hand. She passes one to me before blowing the steam off the top of hers, her eyes analyzing me from over the rim of her mug.

"You good?" she asks, taking a sip and hissing against the sting on her tongue.

"Eh..." I run my finger along the handle of my own mug. "I suppose. Just tired."

"Mmh hmm... and...?"

She's always been able to read me, which is fine. We don't actually have anything to hide from each other. I've never been rebellious or held secrets I wasn't comfortable sharing. And she's a complete romantic, so when it comes to dishing about about boys, she's all ears.

"Bryson?" she prods gently, eyes gleaming as she pulls her knees up to her chest and turns to face me.

"Ugh... yes," I give in. "I just don't understand how so many people in school manage to find that person who has mutual feelings for them. Like, really, what are the chances of two people actually feeling the same way about each other?"