Between by Cambria Hebert Read Free Book Online Page A

glance. “Let’s go.” I was finally released, watching the retreating backs of the four jocks.
    What I wouldn’t give to kick all their butts one day and wipe that smug swagger away. Instead of running after them, I bent down and began scooping everything back into my bag and swung it over my shoulder.
    As I walked home, I did what Dad expected and tried not to remember how, when Sam was here, no one messed with me. They were all too afraid of him. He had this look, this way of staring someone down that would scare them off before they even thought about messing with him. Or me.
    At this moment, that’s the part I missed about him most.
    There was a mark. A bruise. It was faint, but not faint enough that Dad wouldn’t notice. I stood in the bathroom, studying my reflection and trying to come up with an excuse. While I was in there, I tried to practice doing “the look” that Sam always had, the one that told people not to mess with him. The only look I seemed to make made me look like I belonged on an ad for diarrhea medicine.
    “Logan? Are you home?” Mom called from the kitchen.
    Giving up on “the look,” I went out to the kitchen where she was putting some chocolate chip cookies on a plate. “How was school?” she asked, getting out a glass and filling it with milk.
    “Fine,” I said, snagging a cookie and shoving it in my mouth. It didn’t taste good at all; the normally sweet and sugary flavor was like sand, and when the chocolate taste spread out over my taste buds, I almost gagged. Mom was watching me so I kept chewing and took the glass of milk she sat in front of me and chugged the entire thing.
    Mom just shook her head and smiled. “You boys sure can eat.”
    She froze, realizing what she said, adding that “S” onto boy, implying that Sam still lived here. She always acted like she had forgotten that, about two years ago, my brother was sitting at this very table doing his homework and most likely eating these same cookies when he suddenly shifted into a hellhound and ran out into the backyard.
    Mom looked at me with alarm on her face, her eyes wide, and then she blinked. Just like that, the moment was over. “More cookies?”
    I shook my head. “No, thank you.”
    I saw her looking at the bruise on my jaw and could see her internal debate about asking me about it. But when I looked up and met her eyes, she slid her gaze away. Anger whipped through me like lightning. This wasn’t the first time I had come home with a bruise or mark. She knew what was going on at school. She knew I was the kid the jocks used as a punching bag.
    She never did anything.
    She pretended not to see the marks. She pretended that she didn’t hear the lies I made up when Dad asked about them. She pretended a lot.
    I stood abruptly from the table. “Can I go play Xbox?”
    “Sure, honey.”
    I fled the room for the quiet sanctuary of the family room. A big TV and media cabinet filled up the far wall; a large, tan couch filled the center of the room with pillows of every color lining the back. Off to its left, there was a leather recliner that no one but Dad sat in (‘cause it was his chair) with a small end table next to it that held the various remotes. There was a big wooden coffee table that was scuffed up and held old crayon scribbles from when we were kids.
    The right side of the room was a wall of windows that looked out over the front yard and a big tree that grew there. Striped curtains lined the windows and there was a small round table that sat in the middle, holding some kind of flower arrangement.
    I walked in, ignoring the long table behind the sofa with all the family photos lined up in matching frames. I ignored the empty spaces where there used to be pictures of Sam. I turned on the TV and the Xbox and put in the most violent game I had, the one Mom refused to buy me. I bought it anyway and stashed it in my room. I didn’t care if she saw me playing it anymore. Maybe she would pretend not to