What Happens Next by Colleen Clayton Read Free Book Online Page A

clean and all those blaring unread messages erased. The relief lasts exactly one second before I feel worse.
    I push the guilt into the back of my mind and go back to cleaning the house. I spent Monday and Tuesday cleaning the garage and basement per my mom’s instructions. She didn’t say anything about cleaning before she left for work today, but I clean anyway, without being asked. Anything to keep moving. I clean everything that can possibly be cleaned and I wash, fold, and put away every piece of laundry we own. I organize every drawer, closet, and cabinet in the house. There’s a foot of snow on the ground and no gardening to be done, but trust me, if it were spring, I’d be out there in a giant sun hat and gloves, digging and yanking at every weed in sight.
    When there is nothing left for me to do, I lie down, exhausted, and pray for the sleep that never comes. I just lay in bed until anxiety overtakes me. Anxiety creeps in on little cat feet and lurks over me. Get up and move, it hisses, or I’ll suffocate you.
    Night comes, and I finally crack around three a.m. I decide I am going outside in the morning; I don’t care if I get caught. I’ll suffer any punishment she can think of if it means I can be outside and moving. The last time I was truly safe, I was outside and moving.

    Liam is talking but I don’t really hear him. We’re at the table and I’m sitting in front of a plate of cold scrambled eggs and looking at the half-empty water glass that my mother left on the table before she went to work.
    “Huh, Sid?”
    I look fuzzily at my little brother.
    “What’s that, Liam?” I say.
    Through a mouthful of toast, he says, “I saaaaid , why do they give you days off school if you do something bad?”
    I look at him, smacking away innocently. He looks nothing like me, not even one little bit. He is about the most beautiful-looking creature on two feet, with dark, thick hair and eyes so brown they’re almost black and olive skin like his dad’s. Vincent D’Apolito: certified plumber and former stepdad to Sid Murphy. His name makes him sound like some kind of mob hit man, but really he’s just a serial womanizer. He’s a good dad, though. Unlike my dad, Vince pays child support and never misses a visit. My dad’s never even seen me. Vince lives a few miles away from us and sees Liam every week.
    I answer his question.
    “Because they’re so mad, they don’t want to see your face until they’ve cooled off.”
    He looks at me with sadness and offers comfort.
    “Don’t worry, I’m gonna do something bad today so I can stay home to keep you company.”
    “Oh, yeah? What could you do?”
    I ask this knowing full well that Liam doesn’t know the first thing about true rebellion. But under my strict tutelage, I may be able to fix this before he reaches middle school.
    “I don’t know,” he says. “I haven’t thought of anything good yet. Help me think of something real good. I mean real bad .”
    He scrunches up his face.
    “Hmmmm… well, let’s see. Maybe you could pull the fire alarm and send everyone screaming out of the building?”
    He rolls his eyes and laughs, and a piece of egg falls out of his open mouth. He knows I’m only kidding. I look up at the clock. School will be starting shortly, and he is still in his pajamas and a mess. I get up, pluck him out of the chair, and swoop him over my shoulder.
    “Or maaaaybe you could cut Madison Kelly’s pigtails off. You sit behind her, right?”
    “Oooh, yeah!” he says. “I wanna do that one!”
    I tickle him and he laughs, kicking and squirming all the way through the house. I dress him and—because he sucks at it—brush his teeth for him. Then I walk him down the street to his elementary school. I watch from the sidewalk as he gets in line at the entrance. Madison Kelly is standing in front of him and turns around to tease him. He looks at me, so I make a scissor snip motion with my fingers, followed by a hard wink and a