Page 79 of Wherever You Are

My nose flares, and I find myself waiting—to listen in. I should move. I should go. I know better.

“It’s not like he has many friends left around,” Mitchell says with a short, uneasy laugh. Like he’s not sure if anyone else will love his joke.

Hunter does. “That’s right.” He laughs mockingly. “What does he have, like one friend?”

“You can’t be surprised he lost them all,” Davis says to our mom, I think. “If he’s not on his computer, then he’s on his cellphone or playing video games. The kid is socially inept.”

I clench my teeth so hard that my jaw aches. This is what my family really thinks of me. A socially inept, lazy delinquent. Whatever.

“Mom, don’t cry,” Davis says.

“I’ll get him to play two-on-two basketball with us,” Hunter reassures her. “You can be sure of that.”

I start high-tailing my ass towards the back staircase. I can lock myself in my bedroom or crawl out the window and sit on the roof.

For how big Hunter is, he’s somehow deceivingly fast. Right as my foot touches the first stair, he fists the back of my hoodie and yanks me backwards.

My pulse explodes, and I spin frantically out of his hold. But my movement forces me back into the living room.

“Where are you going?” Hunter sneers.

“To the moon,” I spit back, frozen by the couch. I’m afraid to try and pass his body to reach the stairs.

Davis and Mitchell linger behind me, their irritations bubbling. All three have the same short haircut, and they wear nearly the same clothes: Polo shirts and khakis.

My oldest brother takes a couple steps towards me. “Can you please be cooperative? For once?” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “Mom is in the kitchencryingbecause you won’t spend time with us. Do you even care?”

I shake my head and blurt out, “I don’t care.” I come across like the biggest punk ass, and where Davis and Hunter grow red, Mitchell sighs like I’m digging my own grave.

“Come on, Garrison,” he says.

I’m not going to be likeMitchell.I’m not going to pretend that Davis and Hunter shit gold. I hate them too much to embrace that illusion.

“Let’s just go play basketball,” Mitchell says and nods towards the backdoor.

I pull my fallen hood over my head. “I’m not going outside.”

Davis rolls his eyes like I’m being unreasonably stubborn.

Hunter pokes my back. “You need the fucking sun.”

I flinch away from him, and Hunter sidles to our other brothers.

Davis scans the living room furniture, the black television screen, and my game console and controllers. “We can play video games then.”

A chill rakes my arms, uneasy and hesitant. “Yeah?” I wonder, watching Mitchell grab an Xbox controller and take a seat on the tufted chair. I was playing on the Sega Genesis console, but I have different ones hooked up to this television.

“Yeah.” Davis raises his brows. “Mom wants us to hang out together.”

Hunter collects the remote and switches on the television.It’s a trick, my brain screams at me.

They seem nice all of a sudden. And they want to play video games. I could suggest N64 and go really classic with Mario Kart.

It soundsalmostlike fun, which is why I move towards the couch.

“Where are all the football games?” Davis asks, fiddling with a wooden box of Xbox games beneath the coffee table. I’m about to crouch and help him—wrong move.

Hands grab me around the waist and throw me to the couch. Laughter pierces my fucking ears, and weight crushes my back.