BIG SIS

10.2 When It Rains, Grab an Umbrella and Move On

They had dinner. Collin would be hard-pressed to say what it was, though he did remember there were steamed vegetables involved, mostly because Iris kept catapulting cauliflower heads into his plate when her parents weren't looking. He thought he'd done a pretty good job feigning awareness up until he found himself staring at the ceiling of his bedroom with no memory of walking up the stairs, let alone getting into the bed.

"Please don't lock the door," Mrs. Weaver said from somewhere out of view, "I would like to come in and check up on you in a few hours."

"'m fine," Collin protested. Hadn't someone said he ought to lock his door at night? He couldn't remember. It'd seemed important, at the time.

"I know, dear," Mrs. Weaver said. Her voice was warm. She was smiling, Collin was sure.

The door closed. Collin blinked a few times. The lights were still on, so he rolled off the bed and went to get them, feet dragging. He found the switch and then had to navigate back to the bed with eyes that kept closing on him. A flash of light from somewhere caught his attention briefly. His phone, lost in the blankets. Collin felt around the bed. He found the phone and frowned at the screen. Something about the blurry phone number above the message wasn't sitting right.

"Here, give it over," Iris said.

Collin turned on his back, then winced and flopped on his side like a dying fish. The back of his head still felt like raw meat. "Go 'way," he said.

Iris huffed at him. Hands pulled at Collin's phone. Collin let it go, and watched the shadow with Iris' voice unlock the screen. Collin frowned; when had he given Iris his pin?

"There, sound's off," Iris said. She tossed the phone somewhere. Collin watched the dark swallow her again.

"The sound was already off," he told her.

"Go to sleep," Iris said.

Collin kicked in her general direction. "Should've locked the door," he said.

"Should have," Iris agreed, voice scattering like leaves in the wind.

***

There was a half-sheet of printer paper on top of Collin's desk.

Collin pulled out a pencil and stuffed his bag under his chair, stifling a sigh. He wasn't overly surprised – they'd gone a whole week without a pop-quiz, which was pretty unusual for Ms. Levitt. The equations were not too advanced, from what Collin could tell at a glance.

"Math requires practice," Ms. Levitt told the class. Her voice carried over the unhappy early-morning grumbles with uncaring cheer.

"Has anyone tagged her car yet?" Iris asked.

Collin side-eyed the girl. Iris flapped her quiz at him, laughing under her breath.

They partnered to grade the quiz. Iris'd three out four questions right, and the fourth was wrong only because she'd forgotten to invert a sign. Common mistake. Collin squinted at the paper, then up at Iris.

"What?" Iris asked.

Collin shrugged. "Nothing. You did well."

"Could've done better," Iris noted.

"Could've," Collin agreed, matching her careless tone. It was none of his business if Iris screwed up on purpose or not, and he wasn't about to guess which one it'd been.

Kira was less composed. She'd marked her own paper, to her partner's obvious bemusement. There was enough red ink on there to stop a train. Collin foresaw a tense lunch session ahead.