Page 56 of Outcast
He was ten years old, but my parents had been babysitting him since he was a newborn. “Hey, Emory! I want a creepy zombie. Can you do that?”
“Can I do that? I’ve got skills.Of courseI can do that.”
“Cool.” He sat down while I mixed green and black paint to make a sickly color for the zombie. “I want to be an artist too.”
My heart twisted a little. “That’s great, Mikey. I hope it works out.”
I sometimes wondered what my life would be like if I’d pursued a career in art instead of following my father’s footsteps into banking. But I could hardly run off to chase my own dreams. Not when my older brother—who should have taken over the family business—wasn’t here.
Especially when it was my fault he’d died at thirteen years old.
My father needed me to step up—he didn’t have anyone else to do it—and banking was a reliable job, a respectable one. I was lucky to have the opportunity.
I repeated my internal pep talk until the pit in my stomach shrank to a manageable size.
I brushed the paint on Mikey’s face with a small brush, using a sponge to blot it in places and a cloth to wipe off the excess. The zombie took shape on his cheek.
“What do you think?” I asked, holding up the mirror. “Creepy enough?”
“Yeah!”
“Okay, you’re all done here.”
I dropped my paintbrush into a bucket of water. Mikey hopped up and ran out of the tent—nearly taking out Allison in the process.
“Whoa!” She spun to the right, two full plates balanced in her hands. “Easy, speed demon!”
“Sorry!” Mikey called without looking back.
She smiled after him, and I could so easily see what a great mom she’d be. Of course, so could my parents, which was why they were campaigning for us just as hard as Allison’s dad was in his bid for re-election.
“Hey, I brought you something to eat,” she said, crossing to the stool where Mikey had been and plopping down. “Two hot dogs since I know how much you dig wieners now.”
I rolled my eyes. “Hilarious.”
She’d piled some potato salad, Doritos, and pickled cucumber salad on my plate as well.
If she kept bringing me plates, people would stop asking when we were going to get engaged and assume we already were. But I was hungry, so I wasn’t about to complain.
I picked up a hot dog and took a big bite, mustard and onion sharp on my tongue.Perfect.
“Wow. Gray is training you up right,” she teased.
I nearly choked. “Shut up. I haven’t even done that yet!”
She tilted her head. “You’ve been pretty skimpy on the details. Whatdidyou two get up to?”
“I don’t kiss and tell,” I said primly.
She laughed at me. “Come on. Give me something.” I took another bite and chewed while she made puppy-dog eyes at me. “Please? I need to live vicariously through you.”
I scoffed. “You have a boyfriend.”
“Yes, and he’s been busy with family stuff all week. You know his dad is the fire chief. He’s been dragging Matteo to the station and making him scrub firetrucks until he can barely lift his arms.”
“Is that, like, a job?”
Allison scowled. “No. It’s punishment. As if his prison stay wasn’t enough.” She sighed. “Matteo needs to get a real job. It’s required for parole, but not many people want to hire an ex-con, so he’s stuck under his dad’s thumb.”
