BIG SIS

4. Better the Devil I Know, I'm Bad at Meeting New People

Collin woke up with a headache and a dull, repeated thumping in his temples. A bleary look at the clock had him searching for his phone. He found it, thumbed off the alarm, and rolled out of bed before he could fall asleep again. It was Friday. He could be on time on a Friday.

The thumping sound changed to a series of low grunts. Collin glanced at the wall dividing his room from Iris. Not the headache, then. Or rather, not the one in Collin's head. Collin thumped at the wall with his fist. Iris' response rattled the shelves mounted above his desk. It sounded like she'd kicked her side of the wall.

"Psycho," Collin muttered.

Collin's head still ached. He debated the pros and cons of taking something for it on his way downstairs. The Weavers kept all the meds in the kitchen. Mrs. Weaver was up; Collin could hear her humming. She'd fret if she saw Collin with the Aleeve, think they'd stressed him out last night. Which would be a fair conclusion but not anything Collin wanted to deal with at seven in the morning.

"Good morning, dear!" Mrs. Weaver greeted. She was nearly bouncing with cheer around the kitchen.

Collin managed a good impression of a smile, if he said so himself. "Mornin'"

"Would you like juice with your eggs?" Mrs. Weaver asked.

"Coffee," Iris grunted from somewhere out of sight.

Collin didn't startle, but only because he was still too sleep-soft to allow for any sudden movements. Mrs. Weaver sure did, though. She stopped dead in the middle of turning on the stove. The lighter ticked a couple of times before it caught, the burst of blue flames a good metaphor for the whole situation.

Iris bumped Collin's shoulder in passing, mock-playful. "Sorry, mom. I'll get it started, yeah?" she said, all cheer.

Mrs. Weaver's smile returned, a little hesitant. "Sure, dear."

Mrs. Weaver made space for Iris at the counter. A number of appliances had their home there, including a coffee-maker. Iris made a face at it. Not a grimace in the way most people did it – more a tightening of the lips and brows, so minute Collin was surprised he even noticed. Judging by Mrs. Weaver's expression, he wasn't the only one.

"When did you start drinking coffee?" Mrs. Weaver asked, going for casual and ending in an entirely different zip code.

"Hm? I don't know. A while, I guess. Cal, want a cup?" Iris called over her shoulder.

"Sure," Collin said, then scowled. "Name's Collin."

Iris ignored him. "Are you free today?" she asked.

The question wasn't meant for Collin. Mrs. Weaver answered in the affirmative. Iris launched into an over-detailed, hyperactive plan for the day. Collin dug into his eggs. He grunted his thanks when a mug of steaming coffee slid his way.

"It's crap," Iris told him.

Collin raised his head. Mrs. Weaver had left the kitchen at some point. Iris was frowning at her coffee, her disgust obvious. Collin squinted at her.

She raised her brows. "What?"

"What was up with all the noise this morning?" Collin grunted.

Iris' mouth curled at the edges. Collin immediately regretted asking.

"I was exercising," she replied, and didn't add anything snappy or inappropriate.

Collin threw a suspicious glare her way. Iris widened her eyes, going for a look of confused innocence. Collin snorted, and turned back to his food. The bus was coming in ten minutes. He had no time for theater.