Aiden: Depends on whether they mean a fuck or not.

Ronan: Fuck off, King.

Ronan: Anyone else?

Cole: A hundred.

Ronan: Now we’re talking.

Cole: You’ll remember none of them, though.

Ronan: Fiiiine! I’ll just settle with one.

He attaches a selfie with Kimberly by his side. He has an arm on her shoulder like he did yesterday, but this time, his lips are on her cheek as she laughs at the camera.

Her eyes are closed slightly, leaving only a slit of those green irises that I want to think they appear like snot but are in fact the most mesmerising green I’ve ever seen.

Strands of her hair fly across her face, causing the green ones to stick to her small nose and full cheeks. Her teeth show with her laughter. I wish it was forced, or for show, as she does in her mother’s exhibitions.

I know Kimberly’s fake smiles. I’ve learnt them. I have them engraved in a dark corner in my heart, the one with her name written all over it.

This isn’t one of her fake laughs. She’s genuinely happy, enjoying herself in what looks to be a normal grocery store. Only Ronan would snap a selfie in the grocery store like some fucking commoner.

Another text comes from him.

Ronan: I’m having a new challenge. I’ll only fuck one girl and then, maybe my father will marry me off to her. Kimmy’s dad is a big shot, too. Earl Edgar would approve.

I type before I realise what I’m doing.

Xander: I’m going to fucking kill you, Ron.

I delete the text before my impulsive side makes me hit send.

Fuck him and the way he’s baiting me. It’s not working and it never will.

Cole: And she can make your cake bunny fantasy come true.

Ronan: Fuck yes, I took her to that section and she didn’t stop smiling. Next time, I’m going to have her try them on.

Aiden: When Reed visited Elsa last week, she wore those bunny ears girls put on their heads.

Give me a fucking break. Even Aiden is onto this shit? Shouldn’t he not care as usual?

I make the screen go black so that I don’t say something I’ll most likely regret. They can see I’ve read the messages, but fuck them, basically.

Fuck all of them.

“Your sister doesn’t have school,” I tell Kir with a smile.

If she thinks she can play around without the guilt trip of leaving her brother behind, then she has another thing coming.

He pauses chewing, looking up at me through his eyelashes. “But she said she does. That’s why Paul picked me up.” His lower lip trembles. “I hate it when our driver picks me up. The other kids have their parents do it.”

Well, fuck.

I might want her to suffer, but not at the expense of Kirian.

Besides, his case hits so close to home. I often rode with Aiden and Cole when we were kids. Neither of our parents cared enough to come pick us up personally, except for maybe Cole’s mother.

“Didn’t I tell you to call me when no one is there to pick you up?” I fetch another slice of brownie and slide it in front of him.

He lifts a shoulder. “Kimmy says I shouldn’t bother you.”

“We have bro code, remember? Next time, call me.”

His eyes light up as he finally dives into the chocolate. “You’ll really be there?”

“Always.”

“What does always mean?”

“It means, I’ll be there until the end of time whenever you need me.”

Even if I move out and never return here again, Kirian will always be with me. A part I’ll never try to shake off like all the rest.

He drops the piece of cake to his plate and stares at it, head bowed. “Kimmy also said that and then…”

“Then what?”

He shakes his head, his chin quivering. “I’m not supposed to tell.”

I lean over until only a small space separates his hand from mine. “What happened, Kir? You can tell me. As our bro code says, you can tell me anything.”

He lifts his eyes before focusing back on the brownies on his plate. “She promised that it won’t repeat.”

“Repeat what?”

His lower lip trembles again. It’s his tell of when he’s about to cry. She used to be the same when we were kids. It always happened before she started bawling.

Kirian is a lively kid and doesn’t cry, so the fact he’s fighting it right now should mean it’s something serious. Is it about their parents, or what exactly?

“Sir.” Our butler, Ahmed, stands in his elegance at the doorway. He’s a short man with olive skin and light brown eyes. His forehead has that dark crease due to the five-times-a-day prayer. Even I know better than to disturb him during his prayers’ time. Oh, and on Eid days—Muslim celebrations—he brings us the best kebabs from his family.

But that’s not why he’s the only tolerable presence in our staff. It’s because he practically raised me when neither of my parents found time to.

“Miss Reed is here for her brother,” he says with a slight Middle Eastern accent.

Fuck.

Perfect timing that is, as if she could sense he was going to spill the beans on her.

Kirian’s eyes widen as he stuffs the rest of the brownies in his mouth until it’s full, then hops off the stool.

I wipe the side of his face, and he grins as he runs outside. But first, he stops and stares back at me, placing a finger to his mouth. I make a zipping motion as I follow him.

He was on the verge of unveiling something and I’m sure, next time, with the right brownies bribe, he’ll reveal everything to me. Not because he’s a telltale, but because whatever happened upset him enough to make him stop eating his favourite food in the world.

“Didn’t I tell you not to come here?” Her stern voice filters from the entrance as Ahmed escorts Kir to her.

“But I want to play with Xan.”

“Why do you have to play with him?” She grabs his arm. “Am I not enough?”

“Of course you’re not.” I lean against the doorframe, crossing my arms over my chest and my legs at the ankles.

Kimberly’s reddening face turns crimson under the late afternoon light. The descending sun catches in her green-ish strands making them appear rebellious. Since the beginning of this year, everything about her has been going out of that normal direction. Her uniform’s skirt rides to above her knees, almost to the middle of her thighs. The jacket is too tight, I’m surprised she can breathe in it.

Fuck that and her spiritual journey and weight loss journey and all the fucked up journeys she’s made.

She’s starting to be as fake as the image Silver has been maintaining for years.

“Let’s go, Kir.” She ushers her brother in front of her, quickly cutting off eye contact with me.

That’s more like it, not whatever the fuck she’s been doing since yesterday.

“Go without her, Superman.” I smile at him, showing him my most charming dimples. “I need to talk to your sister.”

“Okay!” He doesn’t pause before running in the direction of their house, probably ready to steal more chocolate cake from Marian.

“I have nothing to talk to you about.” She starts to follow her brother.

“If you want to be enough for him, maybe you should stop whoring yourself around like a cheap little slut.”