Welcome to the Family

11

Ashton and I played Mario Kart on the Wii, waiting to be called for dinner.

I grinned like a Cheshire Cat as I took his character out with a banana just before crossing the finish line. "Go cry in your room now," I said, earning a glare from my brother.

"Go cry in your room now," he mocked, flipping me the bird. "I'm going outside for a few minutes, have a smoke." He stood and checked that none of our brothers were around before he sprinted upstairs.

I shook my head, smiling. Cameron lectured us over the phone for almost an hour this morning, angry that we lied and snuck out to a party.

"Ashton," my cousin Evie grumbled, "you need to quit smoking. It's bad for your lungs, dumbass."

"Shut up, Evangeline," my brother shouted, using Evie's full name. She bounded down the stairs, and I smiled. She carried a box in her arms, bigger than a shoebox.

"Whatcha got?"

"Maisie," Evie greeted, setting the box down at my feet and flopping beside me, resting her head on the back of the couch. "I brought some of your old things, which you left at my house. Remember our sleepovers?"

I chuckled. "I do. We used to sneak out of the house and play in the woods," I said, remembering those late nights. We thought it was the best. We felt free and badass. "It was fun until your mom caught us and yelled for hours."

"Yeah, fun times," she emphasized and gestured to the box. "Your old sketchbooks are in there too." That caught my attention, and I leaned forward, lifting the cardboard box on my lap.

"Thanks, I didn't know you kept any of this stuff," I said, opening the flaps. Inside, dozens of papers were loose, most drawings or paintings created by my eleven-year-old self. I flipped through them, smiling at some of them.

"I remember I always envied your artwork," Evie rambled. Still, I could only focus on half of what he was saying. "Do you still paint?"

"Yeah, I'm trying to," I said, giving a half-shrug. "Things have been chaotic."

She nodded, frowning. "For what it's worth, I didn't know either. They kept it pretty hush."

"I don't like secrets."

"Secrets are a currency in this world, unfortunately." She was right. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, gripping an old drawing that made memories resurface.

"Hey, baby girl," my mama said, crouching beside me on the step. I couldn't look at her, keeping my eyes down. "I love that dress your Nana bought you. Do you like it?"

She meant the yellow polka-dotted dress I was wearing, the one my Nana gifted me. I didn't like it, I hated it, but I never said that to her face. Though my face scrunched up in disgust, I told everyone how I felt.

"Am I ungrateful? I didn't mean to hurt her feelings, but I told her I didn't like yellow. I hate yellow." I whispered, sneaking a peek at my mama. She smiled softly but winced, her split lip no doubt hurting. "She never listens, but dad said I was ungrateful."

She brushed my hair away from my face, pulling me into her chest. "I know, baby girl. Don't worry about it, okay?" She breathed into my hair. "You are not ungrateful. Why don't we spend the rest of the day at the beach?"

I grinned, nodding. "Are you okay? He hurt you," I whispered, tearing up. I was used to my father and mama arguing, but he had never hit her before. Today, he hit her because she said she didn't want to visit our Nana, his mother, and split her lip open. I shuddered, remembering the blood that seeped from the small cut on her lip, but I would never forget the sight of her crying.