Page 44 of Headstrong Like Us
Her head pops up, and she glares. “God, do you two not listen?” She wipes roughly at her wet eyes. “I saidleave.Go away. Get out. You aren’t needed here.” She hiccups and rolls off the bed, her hot stride pointed at the camcorder. She rattles the thing.
Farrow nears without any hesitation. Most would move like they’re approaching a snapping turtle, but he’s not scared of my sister. He tells her, “If it’s broken, that’s just going to break it more—”
“Did I ask you?” she retorts.
“Hey,” I cut in. “We’re just trying to help, Kin.”
She sniffs louder, eyes pinging from me to Farrow. “You can’t do anything.”
“Maybe we can,” I say strongly. “Try us.” I follow Farrow further into the room. He has an easygoing gait and takes a seat on the edge of the bed.
I try to oil my rusted joints andsit. Calmly.
I sink down next to Farrow, my hands clasped together, forearms on my thighs. And the camera on the tripod—it’s pointed directly at us. At thebed.
My blood goes cold.
I sit up straighter. More rigid.
Kinney is quiet for a second. I think she might be pretending to ignore us. Her dark eyeliner is smeared underneath her dried eyes, and her dyed black hair is chopped with blunt, short bangs. I strain my ears as she mutters, “You’re going to think it’s stupid.”
Thinking that whatever she’s doing isstupidis a better option than where my brain has already gone. “You don’t know that.”
Kinney huffs, her gaze nervously darting from Farrow to me, back to Farrow.
“No judgment,” he says easily.
She takes another deep breath. “I have a video diary. It’spersonal, so don’t ask to watch it. And I didn’t want to record the diary on my phone or laptop in case the clips leaked to the cloud or wherever. But I should have because I just lostmonthsof footage.” Anger flames her eyes. “It’s just gone.”
I’m proud of her.
That’s my first reaction. “You did a good thing, Kinney,” I say. “Recording it on a camcorder.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
Farrow lifts his brows. “Definitely.”
She smiles a bit. I stand up and check the camcorder, popping out the memory card. I don’t know much about these. They’re kind of outdated and old. Most people just use their cellphones to record videos.
“We can give it to Uncle Garrison.” I inspect the camera’s functions. “He could probably fix it.” Our uncle is proficient in computers and stuff like this. He’s hacked me before. I was twelve and gloated that my passwords were too strong for any hacker.
Yeah, he proved me wrong.
Kinney shakes her head. “I don’t want Uncle Garrison to know I have a video diary. No one knows.”
Farrow frowns, confused. “Not even your little girl squad?”
She glares. “We’re notlittle, you turd.”
“Farrow calls everythinglittle,” I defend him.
He smiles at me like that’s not completely true. And I know, he’d never call his brain or dick small—but those are technicalities and semantics that I’m ignoring.
For his own life. Because Kinney might skewer him with one too many death glares.
She crosses her bony arms. “No, I didn’t tell my best friends because it’spersonal. And if Dad found out, he’d overreact.”
