Page 4 of The Beginning and End of Everything
Most days after school, I went to Connor’s house until Daddy’s shift at the factory ended. And of course, Brandon came, too, because he went wherever Connor did.
As soon as we walked in, Connor’s mom checked that we didn’t have any unfinished homework. She placed a plate full of fresh-from-the-oven cookies on the table, followed by three small glasses of milk. Connor’s mom was nice, like the moms on every sitcom TV show. All smiley, with a sweet, soothing voice.
The warm chocolate chips melted on my tongue when I took a bite. I stuffed the rest of the first cookie into my mouth as I plopped down onto the floor and dumped my Barbies from my backpack. They scattered the carpet, limbs twisted at awkward angles and hair tangled.
I chose one from the pile, fixing her pink tutu while looking at Connor. "Wanna play with me?"
He shrugged and grabbed the lone Ken doll. "Sure."
As expected, Brandon groaned. He was always throwing his head back and groaning when it came to me. "Can't we play video games?” he asked around a mouthful of cookie. “Barbies suck."
"Video games rot your brain." I combed through my doll's hair while Connor busied himself by cramming Ken’s foot into a plastic loafer.
“Says who?” Brandon flopped down onto the sofa, swatting one of the throw pillows to the floor.
"My daddy."
Connor scooted closer to me. He frowned when he pushed Ken’s arms above its head. "What do you do with dolls?"
"Run them over with your monster truck.” Brandon leaned off the couch and reached for the Barbie in my hand, but I yanked it away. “LikeGrand Theft Auto."
A slight wrinkle formed on the ridge of Connor’s brow. "Grand Theft Auto?"
“The video game?” With a roll of his eyes, Brandon rummaged through his ratty backpack for something, then trudged across the room and shoved a disc into the game console. He took the controllers and tossed one to Connor. "I got it from Uncle Darren's caravan. It's awesome!” Brandon’s attention narrowed on me. “Girls can't play.” Then he turned back to the TV.
I focused on making Barbie’s hair silky smooth, pretending I didn't care that the boys didn’t include me. But I did. For whatever reason, since the first day I’d met Brandon, I wanted to mean something to him, even though he was terrible.
A myriad of noises: gunshots and screams, sirens, and roaring engines, filled the room. "What do I do?" Connor sounded panicked, so I glanced at the screen. One of the players darted past a rundown building before whacking someone with a baseball bat.
"Just…” Brandon jabbed at his controller. “Drive around and rob stuff—and kill people that get in your way."
"Kill them? With what?"
"Your gun. And—" Brandon yanked his controller to the left—“Your car."
The game looked too chaotic. Most definitely for boys. And I happily went back to dressing my doll, although every few seconds, I would steal a glance at the TV.
"Oh! Run over that hooker.” Brandon's fingers went crazy on the controller. “Run her over, Con! Get her!"
Connor moved his player a few steps, then turned to look at Brandon. "What's a hooker?"
A pan clattered in the kitchen.
"Old Man McGinty said it's a lady in a short dress."
Tires screeched on the TV, and a car crashed against a light post, coming to a stop beside a woman whom I had just learned was a hooker.
“Aw, shit!”
Mrs. Blaine rushed into the living room with a mixing spoon covered in whipped potatoes still in her hand. The color drained from her cheeks when she glanced at the TV. A hand covered her heart as she gasped. "What on God's blessed earth? Oh my…" She moved in front of the screen, blocking the image with her wide hips while she reached behind her to fiddle with the buttons.
The screen went blank, and Brandon tossed his controller to the thick carpet. "Aw, Mrs. Blaine. I was about to kill me a hooker."
“Give me strength, Father,” she mumbled while she crossed her chest. "Where did you get such filth?"
Brandon’s gaze drifted from Mrs. Blaine to Connor, then back. He scratched his head, tangling his messy, brown hair even more. "Nicked it from Uncle Darren."
“Stealing and hookers…” Mrs. Blaine’s nostrils flared as she shook her head. "I shall be talkin' to ya ma."
