Ballads of Suburbia by Stephanie Kuehnert Read Free Book Online Page A

wouldn’t rather be in Florida with a ton of friends than in our living room?” Liam asked without a trace of his usual flippant sarcasm. “I’d rather be anywhere in the world than here. Admit it, our home life sucks.”
    He said those words with such intensity, implying that our house was an awful place. Our parents were busy, sure, but we were a happy family, goddammit. And why was he talking about this? I thought we had an unspoken rule: lighthearted music-video banter only.
    â€œOur lives aren’t that bad. Look at everything we have,” I objected, rubbing my slashed-up arm through my ratty blue cardigan, as I’d taken to doing when uncomfortable.
    Liam’s eyes drilled into me in such a way that my gaze drifted to my blanketed feet. Then he slowly looked around the room. It had been redone the year before when Dad had gotten sick of “living in a pigsty.” The creamy walls had been repainted to conceal the smudged handprints near the light switch. The wooden floors were kept neatly swept, and the area rugs were no longer stained by Kool-Aid and muddy shoes. All the furniture actually matched (spring green) and so did the vases (earth tones) and the picture frames that lined the mantel (silver).
    Liam focused on the center photo, my parents’ wedding picture, and said coldly, “Dad redecorated this house so he can pretend he has the life he wants. He’s miserable. Mom’s miserable. It’s only a matter of time before the whole thing falls apart. I bet they’ll be divorced within a year.”
    My jaw dropped so low my internal organs could have tumbled from my mouth. “You’re fucking crazy! Where would you get an idea like that?”
    Liam glared at me. “I pay attention. They’ve been fighting in silence for two years now, ever since Mom said she wouldn’t consider moving us to Texas for that job Dad wanted to take. Shetried to make it up to him by going back to work to finance this home-makeover crap, but they haven’t been happy since. They hardly talk or touch each other. It’s so obvious.”
    As much as Liam wanted to convince, I wanted to deny. I didn’t want to think about the dinners we’d had since the kitchen had been remodeled, how we barely spoke, Dad’s graying head bowed, Mom’s jade eyes focused on some invisible yet incredibly absorbing thing outside the kitchen window…
    â€œMom and Dad are fine! Everything’s fine!” I insisted, tugging the blanket up to my chin like I could hide behind it the way I did when watching scary movies.
    â€œWhatever! I’ve been stuck in this house with them while you had Stacey. I can’t ignore it like you do by sitting in your bedroom with your headphones on, slicing your wrists or whatever!”
    My skin went cold. He knew. The little sneak had noticed. Feelings of betrayal replaced the concern I had about my parents’ marriage. This was worse than Stacey ditching me for boys. Liam had violated my most private act. And I’d been treating him like an equal, like a friend.
    â€œFuck you.” I flung the afghan to the floor.
    I didn’t even make it out of the living room before Liam shouted, “No, fuck you! You’re gonna face it. You’re not gonna abandon me like you did when we moved.”
    I felt a slight twinge of guilt, but then the remote hit me in the shoulder blade. I whipped around in a blind rage, found the remote, and hurled it back at Liam. It would have cracked him in the cheek if he hadn’t caught it.
    The La-Z-Boy rocked violently as he leapt up and lunged across the room, trying to slap me with the remote. I knocked it out of his hand and it skidded across the floor, bouncing off the metal grate in front of the fireplace. His hands flew for my throat and I attempted to knee him in the groin. He deflected my kneewith his own, but it threw us both off balance and we went tumbling to the