Twisted Fate(24)

She looked up and grinned in spite of herself, gave a little nod.

“Cute, but weird,” she said.

“I think he’s just shy,” I said. “I walked home with him the other day and he seemed all right.”

“You did? What did he talk about?” she asked.

“Movies. How he spends more time on making them and working on his car than anything else. How he likes to build things. I had to ask him a million questions; otherwise I think he’d just walk along saying nothing, looking at everything. I think he really needed someone to talk to though, like he’s looking for a friend. I guess things were rough when he was living in Virginia. He had this one best friend, Eric, and they made all these movies and then I guess Eric’s parents sued his parents or something and now they don’t even talk.”

Syd’s eyes grew wide. “Whoa, I wonder what Graham did.”

She had that expression she gets when she’s strategizing. I’ve seen it plenty, like when she’s trying to figure out how to take just the right amount from the liquor cabinet without getting caught. Or how to sneak out to meet Declan. “You should try to find out what he did.”

I sighed. “Maybe he didn’t do anything,” I told her. I came over and sat on her bed—something I rarely do, but I did it right then because I felt like we were really getting along.

She stubbed out her cigarette and then went into our bathroom to flush it.

When Syd is worried she tries to look tough, so I knew just by looking at her something was really bugging her. Not that I’d seen her worried too many times. She can go months without studying or read really upsetting things or see them on TV or listen to our parents argue and she never gets worried. I guess worrying is my job, so when I saw her eyebrows furrow like that I paid attention.

She said, “Doesn’t Graham seem like the kind of kid who’s going to come to school with a Bushmaster rifle? You know, the rich, white, spaced-out loner type? That’s always the kind of kid who ends up really doing damage.”

“You’re the rich, white, spaced-out loner type,” I said, and poked her in the side.

She laughed. “Yeah, well, takes one to know one I guess.”

“You have a crush on him?”

She shrugged. “Do you?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I guess I do.”

She seemed so sad and resigned when she said it. And suddenly I thought, Wow, Syd’s jealous of more than just my job. And she’s trying to be good about it. I mean that really threw me for a loop, because Syd is, like, never jealous. Of anyone. Mean? Check. Snotty? Check. Competitive? Check. Check. Check. But jealous or insecure about a boy? And trying to be reasonable? Not my sister. As crummy as she could act sometimes, she never liked it when girls got all hung up on boys or fought over them. And she had never cared before about any boy I’d had a crush on. Didn’t even pay attention to them. She always just thought they were nerdy or preppy or not her type. But this was not like her. It was confusing and honestly annoying. My feelings for Graham were strong. He wasn’t some boy I just wanted to fool around with.

I told her, “I like him, Syd. Maybe he’s more your type, but I actually like him. And you can’t tell me who to date. Besides, you already HAVE a boyfriend.”

“Declan is not my boyfriend,” she said. “And that’s not what this is about, you moron. Something’s off about him. If anyone can tell, I can.” She didn’t sound angry, just really worried, and I couldn’t tell if she was pulling my leg—somehow making fun of me.

“I’ll make my own decisions,” I said. And she looked shocked. “I’m my own person, Syd. You and I are not the same in any way. And we never will be. And besides, I’m older than you.”

Syd may be smart but she is still immature. She’s overly emotional. Sometimes you have to just tell her how things are. “You and I are not unified on this at all. And I’m not going to fight with you. We are not coming together on this.”

She glared at me.

“No,” she said. “You don’t know how to fight. You just leave it up to me.”





Well, it was terrible, but his dad was some bigwig up at BAE Systems. That place that makes drones for the war—surveillance drones I guess, some big technology firm. There were folks here who wanted him tried as an adult. He was lawyered up before he even left the hospital—he had a fractured collarbone, a cracked rib, some cuts and bruises. Split lip. He was practically untouched considering. Lawyered up and a juvenile, so his name never appeared in the papers. No one ever knew. The DA was fuming. Other parents were horrified. I mean, we had a real situation. And what could I do? I knew my place in that town like everyone else. Knew where the money was coming from. We didn’t even call him into the station. We went by his house in an unmarked car as a courtesy.

But we already knew we didn’t need to be sensitive with him. They had some hotshot psychologist come in and say that the reason he did what he did was because he was in shock. That he was trying to cope. They said what else did we expect from someone raised in a society with reality TV and Facebook and everybody being the star of their own little show? There was a lot of talk about ADHD and prescription pills and whether or not people are responsible for their actions under that kind of medication. What else did we expect from a society that rewards young men for speed and recklessness? There was a lot of talk about computer games and Second Life and the effects of too much soda drinking and everything else under the sun. What else did we expect? they kept asking. Not that.