TROUBLEMAKER, carl gallagher

05 | cinderella

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DINNER AT the Gallagher's the following night was sloppy Joe. Silvia had spilt it all down the front of her shirt, much to her displeasure, and she attempted to dap it off of the face of the fuzzy cat she was wearing. Ian teased her relentlessly as she struggled, but Silvia ignored him.

"Mara," she groaned loudly, despite Carl's consistent snorting from her left ear. She glared over at him, and decided that she would not be telling him of the stain around his mouth. "Amara," Silvia called again, and when she got no answer, she climbed to her feet.

She easily found Amara sitting in the living room with Fiona, complaining about something. Silvia didn't know what, but as she entered the space, she caught the last of her sister's sentence. "—Don't get it. She's never had a boyfriend. Just fuck buddies. Why is Lip up her ass?"

Fiona took a swig from her beer while Silvia lingered near the archway. "I don't know. Why do you care so much, anyway?"

The hesitation was incredibly clear on Amara's face, but then she finally shrugged. "I'm just concerned for him, that's all. Lip seems to be all in and she just.. isn't."

"Oh, I see," Fiona mused. "You're being a concerned best friend."

"Yes," Amara nodded. "Absolutely."

Silvia furrowed her brows just as Debbie stepped into the house by the front door. Eagerly, Silvia forgot all about her sister and went to meet her. "Hey. I have a stain. Can you help me?"

Debbie eyed her shirt. "Wow, that's gonna be tough to get out."

"Maybe leave it," Carl said, appearing at the top of the steps. Silvia had no idea when he left the kitchen. "Shirts ugly. And the cat is creepy."

Debbie rolled her eyes and tugged her toward the bathroom. "Ignore him. C'mon."

"Yeah," Silvia nodded. "With pleasure."

The kitchen was mostly empty by then, Ian and Mandy were studying at the counter, and Liam was playing with his toys on the floor.

"I should have a stain remover somewhere," Debbie mused, shuffling through one of the baskets under the sink in the bathroom. Silvia turned to face her quizzically. "What? Boys love throwing food at me during lunch."

"Oh," Silvia frowned. "I get spitballs in class, not food."

"Yuck," Debbie murmured, pulling out the stain stick. "They suck, anyway."

"Yeah," she agreed. "I don't think I've ever had a boy like me."

"Me either. But that's okay, we don't need them. Right?"

"Right."

Debbie pushed the stain stick to the fabric of Silvia's shirt, and she watched her, suddenly unable to breathe. "And I can't believe you don't do anything to retaliate."

Silvia blinked, throat dry. "Huh?"

"You know, to the boys who spitball at you."

"Oh," Silvia sighed. "Well I do. Why do you think I'm in detention so much?"

Debbie shrugged, pulling the stain stick away. For a moment, they stood there, frozen. "I dunno," Debbie said, finally. "'Cause you spend too much time with Carl."

"That's probably true," Silvia mused, looking down to her now stainless shirt. "Hey, thanks."

"Yeah, of course."

Debbie left the bathroom first—but Silvia stayed put, suddenly unable to understand why her breathing had become so shallow. That wasn't weird or anything, why did it feel like there was a hole in her chest?