TROUBLEMAKER, carl gallagher

01 | innocent

✲

"WHAT THE hell is that?" A voice asked from behind Silvia, who was rapidly rinsing her hands underneath the cold water from the kitchen faucet. She tried not to wince at the sound of her older sister's accusing and suspicious tone. If there was anyone that could catch Silvia in a lie, it would be Amara.

And all of the evidence was pretty much just sitting on the palm of her hand. Literally.

"What's what?" Silvia tried in attempt to not look or sound guilty, but she knew it was a lost cause once Amara peaked into the trashcan and spotted the can of spray paint. Her sister held it up, brows raised. "Oh, that's funny," she mused. "Never seen that before in my life."

"What did you graffiti this time?"

Silvia murmured her answer, and Amara crossed her arms. "Acompcar."

"A what?"

"A cop car."

It wasn't often Amara got utterly exasperated with her younger sister, but Silvia could tell she was coming close to it as she squeezed her eyes shut. "Okay, that's it. No TV and no hanging out with Debbie or Carl for a week."

Silvia turned off the faucet in protest. "What?" She whined, moving to grasp her pleadingly. "Amara, come on—"

"I'm serious," she said, before pointing to the direction of the living room. "Go do your homework."

Most people probably would find this funny. Silvia was sure a lot of older sisters were bossy and demanding, but they didn't necessarily have the right to tell their siblings what to do. Amara and Silvia weren't like normal sisters. Silvia could barely remember her father, and from what Silvia could gather between the few moments she saw her mom a week, she was never sober.

Amara was the only parental figure Silvia ever had. It was why she huffed in annoyance, but followed her sister's orders, and plunked herself on the floor in the living room, wedging herself between the space of the couch and the coffee table where she'd left her bookbag.

She heard Amara climb up the stairs, and she waited until she heard the door to her room shut before flicking on the television. She'd do her homework like Amara requested, but it didn't mean she had to follow all of her orders. She deserved some entertainment while practicing her multiplication tables.

The front door suddenly opened, and Silvia turned excitedly. There were few people who entered the Gilbert household without knocking: Lip Gallagher, the eldest brother of their next door neighbor's rather large family, and Amara's best friend since presumably literal birth, and Silvia's own best friends from the same family, Debbie and Carl.

It was pretty much fate. Amara had been welcomed into the Gallagher household with open arms, and that meant Silvia had been, too. They'd always been next door neighbors. Late night swims in their above ground pool that usually led to Carl trying to drown Silvia, and s'mores that hung off the sticks they'd found from the backyard were normal nightly activities for her.

Silvia didn't know any different. And she hoped she never would. Because no matter how fucked up things could be sometimes, she knew they'd always have her back.

She deflated at the sight of her mother stumbling in. Yeah, she was apart of the no-knock list, too, but she'd been gone for a few days. Silvia hadn't expected to see her back so soon, missing a shoe, clothes ripped, covered in dirt, and maybe a little bit of vomit. She averted her gaze back to the television in hopes that Margot would not speak to her, and listened as she shuffled through the house to the bathroom.

She refrained from jumping as her mother started to pound on the bathroom door, and winced at the words that shouted from her mouth. "Open up you cuntmuffin!"