Page 20 of Not On Your Life

“Really?” Millie pulls down a cereal bowl and fills it with Froot Loops.

Cereal for dinner is a normal occurrence around here.

I ignore her question and bypass the Froot Loops, grabbing a banana for myself instead. I’m going to need whatever nutrients this thing can give me to survive the night.

She raises her brows. “So I’ll pretend I didn’t hear you cry while walking down the stairs after your first session last week.”

I didn’t cry. Whimper and groan, maybe. “It’s always worse until the lactic acids get flowing,” I mutter.

She purses her lips, and the expression is so mom.

An ache fills my chest.

“Didn’t you say Maddie tried to kill you last Friday?” she asks again.

I grunt. Maddie has tried to kill me multiple times now, but I’m still standing.

“I’d be happy to intervene where I’m needed.”

“No, thank you.” I know she’s trying to be helpful, but I don’t need my big sister fixing my problems. At least not anymore.

“Will you be at the school tomorrow?” she asks, fishing another bite of Froot Loops out of her bowl. I hungrily eye the multicolored circles.

Screw it. I finish off the banana and grab a bowl. I’ve heard sugar is basically pre-workout. And it’s probably less likely to make me throw up.

“Yup. You?” I ask, pouring a generous helping of cereal. This should help with the lactic crap, I’m sure.

“Yeah. I’m giving a discussion about babies. Want to come? I could teach you a few things.”

“Funny.” I pick up a wet dishrag and toss it at her, but she ducks just in time.

“You should send your whole class over. I’ve got a five-minute video of a baby screaming.” She gets a wicked gleam in her eyes. “Killer birth control.”

“Now we know why everyone prefers my class.” I tease. Millie and I have been volunteering at an underfunded high school downtown ever since our parents died. My dad used to do it; every week he wasn’t off traveling with Mom, he could be found at the high school, teaching everything from tap dance to space travel. The kids loved him. Everyone loved him. Millie and I are lesser instructors, teaching only what we know. Me, law, mock trials, and debate. And Millie, a general collection of life studies.

I never understood my dad’s obsession with the school before, but now, every time a student walks through the door after school, I’m grateful. It means a little less time spent at risk of getting in trouble, or in extreme cases, being in danger. So I do my best to keep them coming back each week.

“Yeah yeah, you’re the favorite. I won’t fight you for it.”

How disappointing. Maddie would have fought me.

Millie drops her bowl in the sink without bothering to rinse it and put it in the dishwasher. I thought brothers were supposed to be the messy ones, but it’s been like this all my life.

Not that Millie makes a habit of getting into messes, but she sure doesn’t know what to do with them once she’s there.

I polish off the last Froot Loops and load both mine and Millie’s bowls into the dishwasher.

Millie pulls her hand out of the cupboard, three Oreos in her palm.

She can’t keep doing this to me. I steal one and race for the door.

Extra energy.

***

My hands shake as I wait for Maddie. I never get nervous in the courtroom. Granted, I’m still only a first-year and have only successfully run one case by myself—a ridiculous neighbor dispute—but I wasn’t nervous at all.

Maddie, on the other hand, makes me nervous.

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