Street Girl

34 | elliot

34

MY BLOOD BOILS. All I see is red. I hammer my fist on Charlotte's door until it swings open, and she stands on the other side with a deep scowl, her brown hair in a ratty bun on top of her head. I push past her.

"Hey, dipshit," Ollie says, sprawled on the bed with his hands behind his head. "Nice of you to join us."

"Shut up," I say.

Charlotte hugs herself with a childish frown. "Well? Is Lucy moving out now?"

I narrow my eyes, until it hits me. "Wait, did you guys want us to hear you talking shit?"

Ollie sits up. "There you go, genius. Right on time."

"Why would you guys want that? That's fucking cruel—you totally hurt her feelings!"

Charlotte clacks her tongue. "We don't want her here anymore, El. What the hell? Why would we want some random girl living with us? This totally sucks!"

"Why does it matter? She's not even doing anything!"

"Dude." Ollie chuckles dumbly. "My room's right across from Mom and Dad's. You're lucky yours is at the end of the hall, you can sneak girls in whenever. But they'd hear me if I did. That's why the guest room downstairs is so key."

"Seriously? You're twenty-one years old, dude. Get a job and move out. And besides, your ex lived with us for like three months, man."

"Yeah, but that was different," Charlotte says. "We knew Cassie."

"And she was pregnant," Ollie adds.

Charlotte flops down on her neon-green computer chair and picks up one of her stuffed rabbits, her eyes filling with sadness. Okay, Ollie, I don't feel a thing for, but Charlotte? She's been a brat lately, but she's still my baby sister. I'm starting to sense this is about more than just Lucy's presence here.

"Ollie." I point to the door with my thumb. "Can you piss off?"

He stands. "Whatever. We want her out, El. Figure it out." He slams the door behind him.

Charlotte spins on her chair with half of her face buried in the pink fur of the animal. I sigh and rub my neck as I sit on the edge of the bed. "Char, listen..."

"Just shut up, El. No one in this family gives a crap about me anymore. Ollie only cares about himself, Dad's always busy with work, and now Lucy's stolen both you and Mom from me. Mom spends more time with her than she does with me. And you used to actually hang out with me, remember?"

Of course I remember—Charlotte and I used to be close, but everything's so weird now. We're all at different stages in our lives, and Charlotte's reaching the point where she's learning the world isn't all rainbows and sunshine. Growing up sucks.

"I don't know what to say, Char. Lucy needs me. I'm not kicking her out. If you talk to Mom, she'll feel bad and will spend more time with you."

"I shouldn't have to ask. She should know."

"People aren't mind readers, Charlotte."

"Yeah, I had a feeling you wouldn't give a shit how I feel. Whatever. Do you have any weed?"

"Are you kidding me? No way, dude."

She stands. "Why the fuck not?"

"I never should've given you any to begin with."

"Fine, if you won't get me any, I'll find someone who will." Charlotte sucks in a shaky breath before she takes out her phone and starts texting erratically. Oh hell no, if she has a dealer, I'm finding out about it. When I snatch her phone, she screeches and tries to grab it, but I hold her way from me with one hand while I read her texts. They're with some guy named Dave.

I'm so sorry baby. They obviously don't understand you.

They don't, they're such assholes. It feels like my entire family has stopped caring about me.

I care about you :)

I know :) I'm glad I have you.

Always.

"Who the hell is Dave?" I ask.

"Give it back, El!"

I shove her phone back in her hands. "You have a boyfriend?"

Her cheeks are flushed. "I don't know. He's just a guy, it doesn't matter."

"If you're dating someone, why haven't you told Mom and Dad?"

"Because Dad's a sexist asshole."

"No he isn't. You're allowed to date, dude, they just want us to be honest about it. So why are you hiding this guy?"

"It's none of your business." She refuses to look at me, just turns to the wall. Charlotte's room is still covered in boy band posters from her phase last year. Her "one true love" used to be some guy named Harry and all she wanted to do on weekends was go to ballet, see movies with Maddy, and spend way too much money on cheap jewelry she'd never wear. Her desk is still cluttered with beads and little turtle figurines, and tucked underneath the foot of her desk is the colouring book she had as a kid, the one she was never willing to part with.

Now she has some secret boyfriend and wants to drink all the time.

"Char," I say, "I'm not trying to be controlling. I won't tell Mom and Dad about this if you don't want, but can you like, try to be honest with them? They're pretty good to us. Dad used to let me drink with my friends as long as I was safe—he always said it's better to give us a bit of freedom then try to be a cop on us."

Charlotte snorts. "Yeah, but you go psycho when you drink so you ruined that for me. Dad says I can't drink. Period."

Psycho. The word stabs me in the chest. I try to ignore the burn in my lungs as I say, "Well, you shouldn't drink anyway. It's stupid."

"You still do it behind Dad's back."

"Yeah. Sometimes." I rub the back of my neck, but the realization is emerging and making a permanent home in my head: I'm a bad influence on my sister. And a fat hypocrite. Because a lot of the shit I'm saying is forced, but I don't want Charlotte to be like me at all.

"Just go away, El," she says to me, sadder this time, and I sigh.

"I'll try to talk to Mom about spending more time with you, okay? You should come to my game tomorrow."

"I'd rather die."

Annoyance flushes through me again. "Fine, Charlotte. If you're gonna be like this, go right ahead, but I hope you know how much of a brat you are."

She chucks a stuffed animal at me as I dart out of the room.