BIG SIS

6. Let Sleeping Dogs Lie, and Make Sure You Don't Step On Them in the Dark

Dinner was uneventful. Collin ate with an eye on Iris. The Weavers made plans for Iris' return to school in light voices, off in their own little glass world. Collin forced down forkful after forkful. He'd always found bullshit hard to swallow.

"You sure you're ready to go back?" Collin asked when the conversation lulled down to the tang of cutlery over plates.

The adults stared at him. Collin wondered if it was the question or the fact that he'd spoken. He'd been playing mute thus far. They might've forgotten he was there.

"I'm looking forward to it, actually," Iris said. Her good eye was damn near sparkling with glee. Her parents wiped at their own. Collin tried not to look at them too much. The moment felt way too private for the farce that Collin knew it was.

"You'll be in my grade?" he asked instead.

"Yup," Iris chirped.

"Same classes?"

Iris' grin grew. "Aha."

"I'm not taking any APs, 'cept Calc," Collin tried. He'd seen Iris's old report cards. Her sophomore schedule had been nearly all accelerated courses.

"That's fine. I'll take it slow this year," Iris said.

Collin narrowed his eyes. She'd put emphasis on slow, subtle enough that he'd wonder if he'd really heard it with anyone else. Collin didn't wonder with Iris. He damn well knew he was being played for a fool.

Mrs. Weaver pulled Collin aside after dinner, supposedly to help her with the dishes. Iris blew him a kiss on her way out. She knew what dishes were code for as well as Collin did.

"I'm so happy you are here," Mrs. Weaver started out. Which was nice and all, and Collin could tell the woman meant every word, but it didn't make up for what was to follow.

"Uh-huh." Collin dried the plate he was handed with undue care. There'd be no eye-contact if he could help it.

"Is it too much?" Mrs. Weaver asked. She puffed the question out all in one breath.

Collin winced internally. "What?"

"This. All of," Mrs. Weaver gestured with a wine glass. Collin leaned sideways to avoid its swing.

"We are happy. You, and now Iris. We are so happy, oh—" The woman broke off with a wet burble. Collin grabbed the tissue box that sat on the microwave and thrust it at her. Mrs. Weaver gave him a watery smile. "Thank you, dear. This must be so stressful for you. It's not fair, and I'm sorry."

"I don't mind," Collin said quickly. He didn't want to hear any more. The Weavers had nothing to apologize for. Fuck, the homes he'd been through – it sufficed to say life at the Weavers' was as nice as it had ever been for Collin. Iris included.

Mrs. Weaver laid a hand on Collin's arm, startling Collin into looking at her.

"If you don't feel comfortable with having Iris in your class, you have to tell me," the woman said, eyes wide and imploring. This was his chance to tell her about Iris, Collin realized. This was her asking.

"It's fine," he said instead.

Mrs. Weaver searched his face. There was something in her expression, something in the way she spoke that sat badly. Collin pretended not to notice. It grated, this forced nonchalance, but it beat the alternative. He wasn't getting in deeper than he had to.

"Thank you," Mrs. Weaver said at last.

They finished the dishes in silence broken only for mundane questions and rote answers.