It's Like This by Anne O'Gleadra Read Free Book Online

Shona, but I don’t want to hear anything so…true as what she will feed me at the moment. I want to just pretend the whole thing was one of those fucked-up dreams I have sometimes. I sit on the couch and turn on the TV and look out the front window. I channel surf without absorbing a single thing until I hear the Volvo in the driveway.
    My mom rushes into the kitchen and drops her purse on the counter and briefcase on the floor. She starts when she sees me standing awkwardly in the doorway between the kitchen and family room.
    “Niles!” She puts a hand to her chest. “Sweetheart, you scared the hell out of me.”
    “Sorry.”
    She flutters over and her hands land on my shoulders, which she squeezes before kissing my cheek. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Everything OK?”
    “Yep,” I find myself lying. “Just missed you.”
    She laughs and gently swats at my cheek. “Ha-funny-ha. Do you need money or something? We gave you some for the month, didn’t we?” She looks momentarily upset. “I was sure we did!”
    “No, Mom, you did!” I assure her. “I seriously just came to see you guys.”
    “Oh.” She runs a hand over her hair. “Well. I’m glad you did. And I wish I could stay and chat, but I promised Tillie I’d pick her up from school. I was just popping home to grab an apple—board meeting ran late and I am absolutely starving.”
    “She hates it when you call her that,” I say, shaking my head.
    Mom snorts. “I birthed her. I’ll call her whatever I want.”
    “Why don’t I go get her?”
    Mom smiles, looking pleased and relieved. “Are you sure? I would certainly appreciate it.”
    “Yeah, no problem. I wanna hang out with her, anyway.”
    Mom smiles and kisses my cheek, again. “You’re a gem. An absolute gem, you know that?”
    “I think you might be biased.”
    “So what if I am? You have your licence on you?”
    “Yep.”
    She slides the keys across the counter. “OK, thank you, sweetheart, and drive safe, OK?”
    “Will do.”
    “And are you staying for dinner?” she asks.
    “Am I invited?” I reply.
    “You are always invited. I’ll tell your father to throw another steak on the barbecue when he starts supper.”
    * * *
    I sit in the Volvo in my old high school parking lot, feeling like a little bit of—OK a lot bit of—a creeper. Finally, I hear the bell which triggers six million memories, most of which are connected to Rylan. After a few minutes, kids start to swarm out and suddenly someone’s knocking on the passenger door. I jump. Hell. It’s Matilda. I unlock the door.
    “You’re not Mom,” she offers, opening the passenger side door. I’m pretty sure that she sounds pretty glad to see me and that feels good.
    “You caught me,” I reply.
    Matilda laughs, then asks, “So, what the hell are you doing here, little brother?” She’s younger but taller, by a whole two centimetres or something.
    “Meh,” I answer non-committally. “You wanna go to McDick’s or something?”
    “Sbucks. And I’m driving. You look like shit.”
    I crawl over and sit hopelessly in the passenger seat.
    Tilla climbs in beside me. She’s not technically allowed to drive without someone over twenty-five in the car, because she’s only an L driver (fucking BC driving rules—bane of every teenager’s existence), but I really think she’s making the safer choice at the moment. I don’t say anything and she doesn’t say anything back until we’re through the drive-thru, drinks in hand and sitting on a concrete picnic bench near the strip mall.
    “Nigh,” she says. “ Nigh .” I suddenly zone back in.
    “Huh? Sorry. What?”
    “Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on?”
    I shrug.
    “Everyone OK?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Shona and Rylan and DRIP and everyone?”
    “Fine.”
    “OK. Mom and Dad are fine too, right?” Panic flares up slightly in her voice.
    “Oh. God. Yeah, sorry, they’re fine. So far as I know.”
    “Jesus, you had me freaked. So what’s