Page 2 of Endless Anger
She’s always the first to tattle. Quincy, the oldest of us three, would have walked inside without a word. Unfortunately, she’s off at some stupid fancy college, and I’m left to fend off the brat here all by myself.
“Name-calling seems unnecessary.” Dad bends slightly, gripping Foxe’s jaw and tilting his head to inspect his bloody face. “Your mother’s in the kitchen. Please go see her so she can clean you up.”
I cringe internally. Aunt Violet’ll be pissed that we got into another fight, and I know she’ll tell the rest of the parents. The adults in our family gossip more than anyone I’ve ever met, and since I started eighth grade at Aplana Academy this year, that’s saying alot.
Foxe tries to frown but winces as Dad releases him. He touches his nose. “Is it broken?”
“Don’t think so. The swelling will be a pain though. Put some ice on it.”
Tossing a dirty look my way, Foxe huffs and storms off, leaving us alone. I feel other pairs of eyes on us, but when Dad lets out a long sigh, I know better than to give anyone else my attention.
I glare at my feet, keeping my gaze down even when he starts manhandling my face like he did with Foxe. His skin is always a little chilled at the fingertips, but I’m used to it by now. It’s almost calming on my flushed, enraged flesh.
“What was it this time?” he murmurs, pressing my lip with his thumb.
“Nothing.”
His black eyebrows arch. “Sure about that?”
“Yes.” My frown grows, and I cross my arms. “Where’s Mom?”
“Still in town with her sisters. Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know.” I scuff my toe across some sand. “She gets me. I don’t have to explain myself to her.”
“Yes, your mother once enjoyed throwing punches without thinking too. Although I don’t believe I asked you to explain anything besides what happened.”
“Yeah, and I said nothing. You don’t believe me.” Now, I glance up into his dark, almost black eyes. He towers above me, even though I hit a huge growth spurt this month, and I’m starting to wonder if I’ll ever catch up.
The kids at school call him the Grim Reaper. I don’t understand why—aside from his height, he looks just like me, andIdon’t look like the collector of death.
Mom says so.
Still, I guess if you don’t know better, he does seem pretty scary. To anyone else, the look in his eyes might spell trouble, but I can see the laughter hidden behind his brown irises. The grin he’s trying to keep from me.
Heknowswhat happened.
And he thinks my misery is funny.
Pulling my chin from his grasp, I shoot the little trio down the beach a glare and then move past my father. “I’m going to my room.”
“Leaving partway through a funeral is a bad look, my son.”
I press my teeth together. “It’s a funeral for adogwho was, like, a hundred years old. Who fucking cares?”
He shrugs. “Is that really how you feel?”
No.I’m just repeating the same bullshit Foxe said that ticked me off and made Lucy burst into tears after I spent the entire morning trying to cheer her up. When her mom, who the dog belonged to first, dropped her off for the unofficial ceremony, that was her single request to me: make Lucy feel better about all this.
Death, the circle of life. I don’t know why that’smyresponsibility, but here we are.
And I fucked it up, letting Foxe join. He’s such an idiot. No one ever asks him to comfort their kids, even though he’d be good at it if he put some effort into the gesture. He’s goofy and lighthearted whereI can’t help being angry and violent, but he can’t seem to take anything seriously either.
Maybe that’s why he keeps coming back after our fights. I guess I should count my blessings. A plastic punching bag wouldn’t be as satisfying.
“Asher!” Aurora calls from down the beach, waving her hands over her blond head. “Where’d Foxe go?”
“Why don’t you go look for him?” I snap.
