Dangerous Boys
Page 30
His eyes flicker over mine, searching. I hold his gaze, barely breathing. I’m close, so close to getting out of here, and I know, Ethan wants to believe me.
He always did.
‘You’re hurt,’ I add softly, reaching up with a shaking hand to touch a cut on his neck. ‘Let’s get you cleaned up. It’ll all be better in the morning.’
Ethan nods, a jerk of his head. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers, broken. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you.’
‘It’s OK,’ I soothe him again. ‘I know, it all just got out of hand. We’ll be OK.’
I take a step towards the door, and then another, still holding my breath. There’s a beat, and then Ethan follows me, holding my hand tight.
It’s over.
Blood pounds in my ears, I’m dizzy with relief.
I reach the door, already thinking fast, ahead to what’s to come. If I just get Ethan home, he’ll calm down. Back in his house, away from Oliver, I can talk him down. The fight has drained from him, I can see it in his eyes. It was a moment of madness, but it’s over now.
I’m safe. We’re all safe now.
‘Not so fast, baby brother.’ Oliver’s voice comes.
I spin in time to see him wielding a length of copper pipe. It cracks against Ethan’s back. He goes down, sprawling on the ground.
Oliver stands over him, blood dripping from his mouth, a furious glint in his eyes.
‘We’re not done yet.’
Oliver was sitting on the Reznick front porch with a shotgun.
I stopped, halfway to the house.
‘No need to be scared, this isn’t for you.’ Oliver looked up. He finished polishing the barrel and held it up, checking the frame. ‘I’ve got bigger prey in mind.’
I exhaled, closing the final distance to the steps. Snow had been falling all week until a blanket of white covered the town, but their path was shovelled clean. Ethan’s work, I knew. ‘I thought you were off in Aspen. Or, Miami.’ I shrugged, as if I wasn’t tracking his every move.
‘What? And miss baby brother’s birthday?’ Oliver smiled. ‘Never.’ He paused, meeting my eyes with a teasing smile. ‘How have you been? Read any good books recently?’
I flushed.
The text messages had started the day after the infamous dinner. An unknown number, a single line:
Man is the only creature who refuses to be what he is. – Camus
I knew immediately it was Oliver, so I didn’t reply, but that night I stopped by the library under the pretext of collecting more romance novels for Mom. I found the slim volume tucked in the classic literature section, the pages dog-eared and yellowed with age. I checked it out, feeling like a thief, and read it cover to cover, late into the night.
The next day, it was a quote from Nietzsche. Then Bret Easton Ellis. Each time, I refused to respond, but still, I tracked down the books, wondering what Oliver was trying to tell me – if he was trying to tell me anything at all. I read each page, searching for the meaning, and although I didn’t see him for weeks, it felt as if he was there in the room with me every night.
Watching me.
And now he knew it too – he’d known I would run right off to follow his notes.
‘Nothing much.’ I feigned casualness, still trying my hardest to beat him in this twisted, curious game. ‘Why, you have any recommendations?’
Oliver smirked. ‘Ethan!’ he bellowed. ‘The light of your life is here!’
Ethan came out, dressed in warm winter wear: boots, a turtleneck sweater, a thick jacket, and more. ‘Hey!’ He lit up at the sight of me, sweeping me off the top step and into a hug. ‘I thought you were working!’
‘I took the afternoon off sick.’ I kissed him, my lips cold against his. ‘I wanted to surprise you.’
‘You did, this is awesome.’ Ethan beamed. ‘Now you can come too!’
‘Come where?’
‘Hunting.’ Oliver replied. He stood up, slinging the shotgun over his shoulder. In his navy wool coat, he looked like a Revolutionary War soldier, deadly and uncomfortably dashing. ‘The eternal struggle: man against beast. Or, woman,’ he added with a smirk.
I shook my head. ‘It’s OK, you guys go ahead. I can meet you after to celebrate.’
‘No, you have to come,’ Ethan protested. ‘I promise, it’ll be fun.’
‘I would just be in the way.’ I shot a glance at Oliver, but he was wrapping a dark red scarf around his neck and checking his bag for ammunition.
‘But you’re already out here. Please?’ Ethan asked, taking my hands. He made a puppy-dog face at me, all wide eyes and hopeful innocence. ‘It’ll be a blast, I promise.’
‘Quite literally,’ Oliver spoke up.
‘It’s my birthday, right?’ Ethan added. ‘That means you have to do what I say.’
‘Is that how it works?’ I joked, my mind racing. I met Oliver’s eyes over Ethan’s shoulder and, despite myself, my pulse kicked. I knew I should leave, that I should keep my distance, but something inside me was restless. Work had been dragging for weeks now, and the classes at Rossmore were barely a relief – exchanging one fluorescent-lit room for another, one set of paperwork for textbooks and class assignments. Now that winter had arrived, my life seemed coloured with grey, the colour of melting snow, dirtied and worn.
The Reznick brothers were the only flash of life and colour I had now. This, if nothing else, wouldn’t be dull.
Besides, part of me was dying to know: what would Oliver do next?
‘Fine,’ I told Ethan, dragging my eyes back. ‘But I’m not really dressed for the woods.’
‘You can borrow Mom’s boots,’ Ethan grinned, kissing me on the cheek. ‘We’ve got a ton of jackets hanging around. Come on, I’ll show you.’ He led me inside.
‘Don’t take too long!’ Oliver’s voice echoed after us. ‘We don’t want to waste daylight.’
We set out into the woods bordering the back of their property. Ethan and Oliver had shotguns and hunting packs, but my hands were free, a bag with an extra sweater and thermos of hot coffee slung over my back. The snow crunched underfoot, the trees were bare around us and the sky an icy blue above as we followed a barely-visible trail deeper away from civilization.
‘Are you sure you know where you’re going?’ I asked, looking around for signs of the route. I was used to running in the woods but, with the snow, everything looked different. ‘It’s been snowing pretty hard.’
He always did.
‘You’re hurt,’ I add softly, reaching up with a shaking hand to touch a cut on his neck. ‘Let’s get you cleaned up. It’ll all be better in the morning.’
Ethan nods, a jerk of his head. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers, broken. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you.’
‘It’s OK,’ I soothe him again. ‘I know, it all just got out of hand. We’ll be OK.’
I take a step towards the door, and then another, still holding my breath. There’s a beat, and then Ethan follows me, holding my hand tight.
It’s over.
Blood pounds in my ears, I’m dizzy with relief.
I reach the door, already thinking fast, ahead to what’s to come. If I just get Ethan home, he’ll calm down. Back in his house, away from Oliver, I can talk him down. The fight has drained from him, I can see it in his eyes. It was a moment of madness, but it’s over now.
I’m safe. We’re all safe now.
‘Not so fast, baby brother.’ Oliver’s voice comes.
I spin in time to see him wielding a length of copper pipe. It cracks against Ethan’s back. He goes down, sprawling on the ground.
Oliver stands over him, blood dripping from his mouth, a furious glint in his eyes.
‘We’re not done yet.’
Oliver was sitting on the Reznick front porch with a shotgun.
I stopped, halfway to the house.
‘No need to be scared, this isn’t for you.’ Oliver looked up. He finished polishing the barrel and held it up, checking the frame. ‘I’ve got bigger prey in mind.’
I exhaled, closing the final distance to the steps. Snow had been falling all week until a blanket of white covered the town, but their path was shovelled clean. Ethan’s work, I knew. ‘I thought you were off in Aspen. Or, Miami.’ I shrugged, as if I wasn’t tracking his every move.
‘What? And miss baby brother’s birthday?’ Oliver smiled. ‘Never.’ He paused, meeting my eyes with a teasing smile. ‘How have you been? Read any good books recently?’
I flushed.
The text messages had started the day after the infamous dinner. An unknown number, a single line:
Man is the only creature who refuses to be what he is. – Camus
I knew immediately it was Oliver, so I didn’t reply, but that night I stopped by the library under the pretext of collecting more romance novels for Mom. I found the slim volume tucked in the classic literature section, the pages dog-eared and yellowed with age. I checked it out, feeling like a thief, and read it cover to cover, late into the night.
The next day, it was a quote from Nietzsche. Then Bret Easton Ellis. Each time, I refused to respond, but still, I tracked down the books, wondering what Oliver was trying to tell me – if he was trying to tell me anything at all. I read each page, searching for the meaning, and although I didn’t see him for weeks, it felt as if he was there in the room with me every night.
Watching me.
And now he knew it too – he’d known I would run right off to follow his notes.
‘Nothing much.’ I feigned casualness, still trying my hardest to beat him in this twisted, curious game. ‘Why, you have any recommendations?’
Oliver smirked. ‘Ethan!’ he bellowed. ‘The light of your life is here!’
Ethan came out, dressed in warm winter wear: boots, a turtleneck sweater, a thick jacket, and more. ‘Hey!’ He lit up at the sight of me, sweeping me off the top step and into a hug. ‘I thought you were working!’
‘I took the afternoon off sick.’ I kissed him, my lips cold against his. ‘I wanted to surprise you.’
‘You did, this is awesome.’ Ethan beamed. ‘Now you can come too!’
‘Come where?’
‘Hunting.’ Oliver replied. He stood up, slinging the shotgun over his shoulder. In his navy wool coat, he looked like a Revolutionary War soldier, deadly and uncomfortably dashing. ‘The eternal struggle: man against beast. Or, woman,’ he added with a smirk.
I shook my head. ‘It’s OK, you guys go ahead. I can meet you after to celebrate.’
‘No, you have to come,’ Ethan protested. ‘I promise, it’ll be fun.’
‘I would just be in the way.’ I shot a glance at Oliver, but he was wrapping a dark red scarf around his neck and checking his bag for ammunition.
‘But you’re already out here. Please?’ Ethan asked, taking my hands. He made a puppy-dog face at me, all wide eyes and hopeful innocence. ‘It’ll be a blast, I promise.’
‘Quite literally,’ Oliver spoke up.
‘It’s my birthday, right?’ Ethan added. ‘That means you have to do what I say.’
‘Is that how it works?’ I joked, my mind racing. I met Oliver’s eyes over Ethan’s shoulder and, despite myself, my pulse kicked. I knew I should leave, that I should keep my distance, but something inside me was restless. Work had been dragging for weeks now, and the classes at Rossmore were barely a relief – exchanging one fluorescent-lit room for another, one set of paperwork for textbooks and class assignments. Now that winter had arrived, my life seemed coloured with grey, the colour of melting snow, dirtied and worn.
The Reznick brothers were the only flash of life and colour I had now. This, if nothing else, wouldn’t be dull.
Besides, part of me was dying to know: what would Oliver do next?
‘Fine,’ I told Ethan, dragging my eyes back. ‘But I’m not really dressed for the woods.’
‘You can borrow Mom’s boots,’ Ethan grinned, kissing me on the cheek. ‘We’ve got a ton of jackets hanging around. Come on, I’ll show you.’ He led me inside.
‘Don’t take too long!’ Oliver’s voice echoed after us. ‘We don’t want to waste daylight.’
We set out into the woods bordering the back of their property. Ethan and Oliver had shotguns and hunting packs, but my hands were free, a bag with an extra sweater and thermos of hot coffee slung over my back. The snow crunched underfoot, the trees were bare around us and the sky an icy blue above as we followed a barely-visible trail deeper away from civilization.
‘Are you sure you know where you’re going?’ I asked, looking around for signs of the route. I was used to running in the woods but, with the snow, everything looked different. ‘It’s been snowing pretty hard.’
