I drop off Layne, in a good mood, NCT aside. Was Graves up to something? Of course. Was I going to let her in on that? Fuck no.

"Kaylie," my dad, a rare presence in my life, is sitting on my bed when I get home. Or at least a rare presence when he wasn't taking my car keys. "Hey, Stranger."

"Hey," I walk past him, hanging my jacket up.

"I feel like I never see my baby girl anymore," He hugs me, "How are you? How's your hand?"

"I'm cool. My hands good," I reply vaguely, "How's work?"

"It's good," he takes my engaging in the conversation as a reason to stay, getting comfortable. My dad is an old greying man with only one kid who really gives a damn about him. Not to say my brother didn't like him, they got along fine, but when the going got tough the tough got going and never returned a phone call. His dark toned skin was responsible for the majority of my own coloration, and while he was an okay father, he was by no means father of the year.

"You're never home anymore," he sighs, "I feel like I only see you at church."

"I've been busy," I shrug. Truthfully, home just wasn't where I liked to abide my time.

"I've noticed you're with that neighbor girl a lot. How is she?"

"Layne? She's...." I search for what to say. Super gay- I mean in love with me--- I mean we've definitely kissed--- We're also still kissing--- I mean--

"She's something else. We go to school together and I guess we've just gotten close. Her mom's dying of cancer."

"That's horrible," he stands, our heart to heart coming to an end, "I'm glad you're making friends. You were really sad last semester... I was almost worried."

Almost? Should've been. You should've been very worried.

"It's cool. It's whatever," he exits my room and I feel an underlying urge to kick in my father's face. Almost worried?

That is the problem with my dad, I guess. He's so close, but so far away. Maybe we live together and all, but he doesn't know me.

My phone rings, interrupting my thoughts, and I answer it. Layne. Of course.

"You busy?" she questions.

I pause, "Maybe I am. Who's asking?"

"Me, ass hat. Get over here I'm not in the mood to play games. You have ten minutes," and with that she hangs up.

***

I walk to the Sinclair's enjoying the September air. A month of school was already up. Soon it would be Halloween, then Thanksgiving. Then it'll be winter break, Christmas, next semester, and suddenly I'll be graduating and unleashed into the cold adult world of post-secondary life. I shiver, but it isn't the night air.

This time I step right into the house, Max announcing my presence for me via excited barks.

"KJ?" Dil peeks out from the top of the steps, "Hey."

"Sup," I reply. I notice faint red marks on his arm and one dangerously close to his eye, "Those are either oddly placed hickies or the mark of war. Either way sounds like a good time."

"Layne's upstairs having a crisis. I went by and she shot me with a nerf gun so tread softly."

"Okay then..." I head up the stairs, wondering why I'd been called to handle this when Dil is obviously a doting older brother, and from the delicious smell circulating through the house, her mother clearly was available as well.

I push the thoughts aside as I reach her door and knock softly, before just opening it. Bad idea.

I drop to the ground to avoid being shot in the ground, warned by the sound of foam bullets hitting the wall behind me. I roll forward and grunt, pain shooting up my arm from my still tender hand, "Layne what the hell?"

"Sorry," comes from behind her cover, "I thought you were Dillion again."

She closes the door and helps me up, "Is you hand okay? You landed kind of rough."

"It's fine," I lie, ignoring the burning feeling in my hand. Knowing my luck, I'd probably ripped it back open, "What's going on? You called me and I get here and Dil says your playing war in your room?"

She looks at me before lunging into my arms, sobbing. I hold her, a little more prepared for her outburst, "I really wish you'd warn me when you plan to like, feel things, around me."

"Shut up," she mumbles through my shirt, "I just like you because you're fluffy. You give good hugs."

"Hmm... I give good hugs, I have kissable lips, I'm good to talk too... Careful with complimenting me. I might actually start to like you back," I tease. She looks up at me and taps my face.

"Hey, Ms. Conceited, can you focus on your hurting friend for a minute? Thanks."

We move over to her bed and she rests her head on my shoulder. "Are you gonna tell me why you assaulted your brother?"

"I'm a girl of my word. I told him if he comes in here I'm gonna shoot him. He didn't listen," she smiles to herself, "Dil isn't even my brother technically he's my cousin."

That does explain the visual difference in how the Sinclair kids looked, but I inquire further, "So why does he live with y'all?"

"Let's just say... his dad was less than thrilled to have a gay son," she keeps the answer simple.

"Fair enough," we sit in quite and I look around the space, which was now even more saturated in pictures of people. "Do you have a building fetish or something?"

She chuckles lightly, "I like architecture. And by like I don't mean the way I like you. It's not in a sexual way."

"You're never gonna stop hitting on me huh?"

"No ma'am," she giggles, "I like drawing though. I wanted to be an interior designer once upon a time. Before cooking."

"I get it. I'm the same way."

"I like to imagine not having to be here. It's probably bad but I dream about leaving my mom and Dillion and moving into one of these buildings," she gestures to the numerous pictures, "I want to escape."

"Really? You're mom?"

"I mean I love her," she pauses, "I love them both. But they're all I have. All I know is them. I want to see the world. I want to travel. I grew up home schooled on a farm, KJ. I know there's more to life than that. I wanna see it."

"I'd like to see it with you," I whisper, "No homo."

She laughs, "You're so goofy all the time. Why? I know you've experienced pain and loss or something. What are you hiding?"

Before I can answer, there's a faint knock on the door. Ms. Cassie peeks in, "Hi, KJ."

"Hi," I reply.

"Have you calmed her down any?"

"Well I tried... I just don't think 'calm' is the word to describe your daughter though," I tease.

"Ha ha," Layne murmurs, "I'm right here. I can hear you."

"Dinner's ready if you feel like untangling yourself from our neighbor," Ms. Cassie turns to leave, "KJ, you're welcome to stay, too."

"Thank you, Ms. Cassie," I smile. Layne waits a minute before turning to me.

"What?"

"We should kiss," she leans in and I lean away.

"Kissing you after, consoling you? That's to close to a relationship," I joke.

"Give me those lips!"

"Never!"

She pins  me down, kissing everywhere reachable. My cheeks. My forehead. My nose. Our laughter is interrupted by my phone going off.

I grab it, seeing it's my father. I clear my throat, and answer, "Yes sir?"

"Where are you?"

"I'm at the neighbors helping Layne with a homework assignment," I lie so smoothly, I'm suprised.

"Well we're having dinner tonight--- As a family," he states. A family?

"Yes sir."

"So come home."

"Now?"

"Right now," he hangs up.

"Yes sir," I roll my eyes, turning back to Layne, "I have to go."

"Already?" she frowns.

"Apparently we're having a 'family dinner'," I stand, stepping down from her bed.

She looks up from under her lashes, "Can I at least have a kiss goodbye?"

I roll my eyes, "Sure."

I kiss her quickly and head home.

***

"How's school going, Kaylie?" Mindy smiles at me and I force a smile.

"Good," I take a bite of dry chicken, choking it down with some crystal light. After my mom died, my dad was quick to remarry Mindy, a suspicious at best woman from our church. Her real name is something complicated that I never bother to remember. Her hair is a mess of artificially honey colored curls, framed around coke bottle glasses, on a head balanced on a stout pear shaped body.

Since Mindy, food in our house had gotten healthier, oversight for me was looser, and my dad was happier--- Which meant out of my hair for me.

So if I had to pretend to be the perfect daughter once a month for a "family meal" to keep her happy, then so be it.  

But also--- Mindy made things.... Difficult at times. She didn't have a job, so the system where I'd get in trouble at school and nobody would be home to take the call? That was now complicated by Mindy answering the phone. Which meant I could only truly be on my bullshit on days when I knew that she wouldn't be home.

"I got a call from your counselor---" Mindy starts., "What's her name? Dr. Harvey."

Oh God.

"Oh?" My dad stops eating, his interest peaked.

"Yeah," she turns to him, "Apparently Kaylie Jane hasn't filled out any college applications."

"Really?" he turns to me, "Aren't you a senior, Baby Girl?"

"I am," I clear my throat, "Um, and it isn't that I haven't filled them out... I just haven't submitted them yet."

"See there, Mindy? She just needs to submit them is all," my dad takes my side, as always.

"If they're filled out, why haven't you submitted them?" she presses.

Cause I'm busy minding my fucking business, Mindy. "Um... I consider myself a perfectionist and... um... I want my applications to be just right before I submit them."

She watches me stumble through my lies before shaking her head, clearly disappointed.

"Aye, atta-girl," my dad buys my bullshit, "Like Pastor says--- Do everything you do to the glory of God."

"Amen," I smile, exhaling a little. Mindy stares at me, analyzing me for some other drama to pull me into.

"You're at the neighbor's house a lot," she starts again, "You know they have a son over there. A boy."

"Well what else would a son be," I smirk, looking down at my plate of unseasoned vegetables to hide it.

"You aren't ever over there alone are you?" my dad asks.

"It doesn't matter," I shrug, "He's gay." Not mentioned: So is his sister.

"A fagot?" I jump at Mindy's use of the derogatory term, "That type of thing means spirits normally. Don't tell me the daughter is a dyke, too."

"Guess I won't," I take a sip of my drink, gagging it down.

"Of course, baby," my dad mutters, not listening.

"Can I be excused?" I stand up anyway, "I have a lot of homework."

"Baby girl you just got here," my dad protests.

"I have a lot of applications to get through," I explain, dumping my plate before tossing it in the sink, "Good night."

"It's only six---"

I'm out of the kitchen, before they can say anything else.