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We make it home just in time to catch The Alice and Jasper
Show. She’s leaning over the console, her tongue in his mouth, hand on his
chest. I think I might throw up.
Edward gets out of the car and bangs on the driver’s side
window. “She’s the closest thing I have to a sister. And I like you, but I will
mess you up!”
“Thanks, Dad,” Alice
says, huffing all the way to her room where she slams the door, locking me out.
“Great. Now what am I going to do for the next few hours?”
Edward shrugs.
I point to him and glare. “Entertain me.”
Edward leads the way to his room, opening the door wide.
I’ve only been in a few boys’ rooms. None of them look like this. Edward’s room
is filled with posters—singers and bands—and music. Lots of music. CDs are
strewn across the floor, on his unmade bed, piled on his dresser, and even
organized haphazardly on some shelves.
I sit on his bed and throw my backpack down. “She’s gotten
moody,” I say. “It’s bugging me.”
“You’re bugging me.”
“Hey, what did I do?” I cross my arms over my chest, the
excess fabric of my huge shirt bunching up beneath my hands.
“You’re feeding off her and her I-have-to-have-a-boyfriend
crap. You don’t have to have an anything.”
“I know that.”
“Then why are you acting weird?”
“I just miss her.”
“Tell her.”
“I can’t tell her. She’s been after Jasper since the seventh
grade. She’ll feel guilty, and then she won’t know what to do, and I can’t add
stress to her life. Ever since Riley and Royce and Alec. . . I mean, she’s not
good with stress.”
“Okay, well, just hang. Chill out.”
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