Chapter 3 (ii)

The 13- year-old let out a loud sigh. "Mom!"

It was his trump card, the one that would get him absolutely anything he wanted and he'd learned to use it a long time ago.

"Okay here!" I said, grabbing my jacket from the nightstand and thrusting it toward him. The last thing I needed was Mother coming in to see what had upset her son so badly. She would’ve gone at me for being so horrid to my precious little brother, annoyed I couldn’t do this little thing to make him happy. With the rise in my position to ‘talk of the school’, I couldn’t afford to show up the next day with more fodder for their active rumour mills. The woman never cared where she left her bruises anymore; it was always up to me to hide them after.

Matt’s face contorted into that sweet smile I’d grown to hate before he turned and saw himself out.

He’d lose it before the night was out, likely left behind at one venue or another like all the other things he’d borrowed then Mother would punish me for being careless. Money d