Page 17 of Stealing for Keeps
Rowan chuckles softly and squeezes me on the shoulder. “When it comes to Claire, my advice is to pretend that you are.”
* * *
When I get home from practice, Mom is in her office on a call, and Wyatt is in front of the TV in the living room.
Most of the house is unpacked, but a few boxes of miscellaneous shit that we haven’t found a home for yet sit in front of the couch acting as a coffee table.
I sit next to Wyatt and prop my feet up on one of the boxes.
“Did you get the master sword yet?” I ask him. He’s playingLegend of Zelda.
“Not yet,” he says, then his nose wrinkles. “You smell. Mom is going to yell at you for stinking up the new furniture.”
He is a wise kid for only eight years old.
“I’ll just blame you,” I tell him, swiping the controller out of his hands.
He lunges for it, but I hold it up high where he can’t reach. Undeterred, he climbs up on me to get to it.
“You’ve been playing all day. It’s my turn.”
“You have to do your chores first,” he says in a matter-of-fact voice that I’m sure Mom used on him earlier.
“She’s on a call.”
“Yeah, but it’s not fair.” He’s in a phase where everything has to be fair. Last night at dinner, he made sure we all had the exact same number of fries.
Torrance comes from the kitchen and stops in theentryway. She leans against the wall, and her features tighten. “Didn’t you know, Wyatt? The world revolves around Austin. Get used to things not being fair.”
Her words shouldn’t get to me—she’s been mad ever since we moved to Michigan—but it’s been a long day already. I hand the controller back to my little brother and stand.
I don’t bother engaging her as I walk into the kitchen. I open the fridge and pull out a container of leftover macaroni and cheese. Grabbing a fork, I dig in without heating it up.
She follows me, disgust etched into her features as she watches me shovel in the cold noodles.
“Want some?” I offer as I hold up a forkful in her face.
“Gross. No.” She pushes my hand away from her.
The fact that she’s in the same room as me is progress though. Last week, every time she saw me, she burst into tears.
“Can you drop me off at the mall?”
Ah, well, now it makes sense why she’s tolerating my presence.
“What for?” I ask.
“I want to go clothes shopping for school next week,” she says like the need to justify the free ride annoys her.
“I thought Mom was going to take you,” I say as I shove another bite into my mouth.
“She was supposed to this morning, but she’s been in back-to-back meetings.”
I nod, feeling something like guilt. Mom used to only work part-time, but she’s had to take on more hours since we moved. The house in Arizona still hasn’t sold, and the van needed a new fuel pump last week.
I know that our moving here has put a strain oneveryone. I appreciate what they’ve given up for me, but I don’t want to be held responsible for every bad thing that happens from now until eternity. Frost Lake is my opportunity, but it isn’t like it’s a bad place. The summers here are way better, I know that much already. I do not miss practicing outside in one-hundred-and-fifteen-degree heat. And maybe we’ll finally have a white Christmas.
“Yeah. I’ll take you,” I say as I drop the empty bowl in the sink.
