"You need a haircut," April said, as if today was any other day.

I glanced towards the mirror, hands faltering in their attempts to button up my shirt. Mom had spent the better part of an hour ironing the thing, claiming she needed to use a cool setting to avoid burning the fabric but we all knew she needed to give herself something to do.

When the button slipped past my fingers for the fourth time I had to fight back to urge to tear the thing off my chest and into the trashcan.

Running a hand through the shaggy mess on my head I had to admit that my sister was right. The ends had grown far too long, bleached honey-blond from sun exposure against the hard chestnut brown of my roots.

Clark chuckled every time he caught sight of them, calling me Goldilocks. I'd throw him a little barb back, remind him of the phase in middle school when he dyed his hair a violent pink to catch Nancy Greys' attention. He'd fake a choke-hold until I called a truce, running his hand over his buzzcut, reflecting back on the nostalgia.

I scoffed at the memory.

Clark was a fucking asshole.

He was the reason I was in this mess. Releasing a sigh, I gestured for my sister to hand me the tie I had draped on my bed-post, slowly looping it around my neck. It was a soft blue, something April said would bring out the sincerity in my eyes, whatever that meant.

When I matched my gaze in the mirror all I saw back was guilt and anger. At myself for being an idiot, at Clark, at everything really.

"Maybe my cellmate can chop my hair off for me in my sleep," I remarked and she frowned, punching my shoulder. "Take my scalp off with it."

"Not. Funny."

She added another punch before wrapping her arms around my middle. Though she had tried to keep a strong front I could tell she was nervous for me.

April had the kind of face that bled out every emotion she was feeling. It was how the entire house knew Frank Iron had dumped her before the words passed her lips. It was also how we knew she was the one who broke Dad's favorite Christmas ornament three years ago when she was thirteen. For a moment I was afraid she would start crying, her default when worried.

Both of us jump when a thump sounded behind us.

"Oh sorry, didn't know the dork convention was meeting up here," Thomas called from the door frame.

He was drenched from sweat, having returned from a run, with his headphones still blasting around his neck.

April gave him a hard look, unwrapping from my side.

I tugged at the knot of my tie, swallowing hard when it caught at the top of my shirt. I hadn't looked this formal since prom.

Thomas squatted onto the edge on of my bed, saturating the sheets instantly, ignoring my huff of protest. Instead, he wiggled in harder, the spot shifting from baby blue to navy quickly.

"I don't need your shit now Thomas," I told him, for as much as I idolized the guy I was already shitting myself. I had landed myself in hot water before, but this was different.

Juvie.

I could be going to juvie if the judge decides not to extend out my trial date.

Less than two months away from eighteen, my brain supplied.

Feeling faint I turned, leaning against the dresser as Thomas swiped a protein bar from his pocket.

"Don't sweat it, man," he said. "This is your first conviction. Judge will let you off. Probably a little service work, home detention if you mouth off. At least this will give you some street cred when you head back to school now that the suspensions over."

I didn't need street credit.

That was something I actively tried to avoid. Being Thomas Minders' brother was bad enough. My brother was basically school royalty. I could never live up to that, I didn't try to. But I definitely didn't need to be known as his delinquent brother. I could kiss college goodbye if it came to that.

Fuck.

"Not my first conviction, Thomas," I said, casting my brother a dark look. He had the decency to look away, picking at the skin on the side of his thumb.

As I ran my fingers through my hair and down my face April forced a smile, squeezing my free hand.

"It'll go great," she promised, "Just be your usual, annoyingly charming self and things will blow over."

"Dad's going to kill me regardless of what I get."

"Let me worry about D-man," Thomas piped in, getting up and clapping my shoulder roughly.

I thought back to three weeks ago.

The look on Dad's face when he picked me up from the station.

The way he didn't say a word to me, just made me promise to go straight to my room, to ignore Mom as she followed me up the stairs.

Mom crying.

Asking why in the world I would do something as stupid, reckless, as break into a teacher's house.

Thomas shook me a couple times, bringing me back to the present, before walking out the door.

"You'd think with college and assignments the guy wouldn't be home so often," April muttered under her breath.

I offered her a weak smile, nudging her arm. She'd dressed up for once. Her was hair done, laying flat across her back in straightened locks. The dress she wore was an old one, from back when she wanted to fit in with Frances Dobermin and her Mean Girls obsessed cronies. It was also during the period when she thought meals could be skipped as regularly as classes, but no one in the family talked about that.

A lot like how in a year from now, when this whole incident blows over, nobody would dare to bring it up.

"You should go. Didn't you say you had a study date at twelve? It's nearly eleven-thirty."

"Dude, don't be dense. I rain checked it. I'm coming to support you," she scoffed, punching my arm hard enough I winced, rubbing the spot.

I matched her eyes ready to argue but there was a set hardness that stopped me. Releasing a sigh I pulled her into a quick hug, murmuring thanks in her hair before pushing away from the dresser.

"Jeremy texted he'll meet us at the courthouse. Something about a hold-up with balloons. I didn't bother to ask, he's your friend so I'm sure it's something moronic," April piped as we made our way downstairs.

I faltered on my step, nearly tumbling down.

"Clark's coming?"

Rolling her eyes widely, April nodded. "Yeah, you really think he'd bail on you? No faith in your best friend Beau."

I grit my teeth. The asshole who ran out on me and left my ass in a burning house. Yeah, I had a lot of faith in that guy.

"Also I know Dad has your phone on lockdown but my god let the guy know you're still alive, I swear Jeremy has called me like ninety times since you got arrested." She rolled her eyes, turning towards the kitchen. I let her go ahead, keeping my gaze low when I made out Dad's form at the kitchen table.

Mom was instantly on her feet, pressing her hands to my cheeks, smoothing out my shirt, promising everything was going to be okay. I could tell without looking she'd been crying and god that made me feel like shit. I hated to disappoint Mom.

"You polish your shoes?" Dad said, his gruff tone startling me. I expected stoney silence from him so my answer comes out tight and stuttered.

"Ye-Yeah, twice. Last night and this- this morning," I forced out.

He nodded tersely, getting up. He had tidied his beard, dressed in the same suits he wore to work every morning and slicked his hair back in a way I'd never seen before. Even Mom looked dressed for church.

Mom scolded April as she made a grab for her worn sneakers, redirecting my sister's hand to the pair of heeled boots she never wore. Frowning as she tugged them on I pet her shoulder, bending to tie my own laces.

Getting into the car took longer than necessary. Dad refused to let me sit up front, leaving Thomas and April to fight over it as Dad warmed the engine. Mom sat to my side, gripping my hand like a life-line, and I couldn't bring myself to pull away even when my hand grew disgustingly sweaty.

April managed to secure the front seat so Thomas barrelled in next to me in a gaggle of toned limbs and floppy hair. It seemed to be a family trend, growing our hair out over the winter, but Thomas was the only one to make it look effortless.

Dad took the shortest route to the courthouse, parking in the lot off to the side. I got out first, walking with Mom and April at my sides as Thomas explained text-to-park to a flustered Dad.

Immediately a neon green car caught my eyes and I staggered back as Clark bolted from it, tackling me in a meaty hug, murmuring low a slur of apologies and promises to owe me one. I attempted to shove him back but he clung tighter before relenting.

"You've got this man."

By the set of my eyes, he could tell the only reason I wasn't going off on him was because my Mom was present.

"Mrs. M," he greeted, "Beautiful as always."

Like the traitor she was, Mom blushed, physically waving away the compliment.

He wasn't totally lying though, Mom was beautiful. It was something Dad was smart enough to remind her of every day, something that ensured their marriage to last as long as it had.

Now that I thought about it, the only real fight they had were in dealing with our fuck-ups, Thomas excluded of course.

The guy was a saint in their eyes.

Hell, he was a saint in everyone's eyes.

"Jeremy," she greeted, twice as warmly.

I almost called her out on it before I remembered nobody but me knew of Clarks betrayal.

Part of me wanted to confess right then and there, drag him down with me. Prove that it wasn't my fault I got sucked into this mess.

But Clark was already eighteen, I couldn't do that to the guy.

"We need to head inside," I cut off April's greeting, turning swiftly up the stairs to the courthouse. Judging by the pleading huff of my name, Clark was following.

Coming into view he gripped my arm, pulling me to a stop.

"Give us a second?" he said in response to the worried look on my Mom's face.

"One," she ordered, finger raised before she continued on with April in stride.

"I'm not ratting you out," I told him the moment the doors swung behind them.

I fought down the hurt I felt as relief flooded Clark's face.

Pushing it away he offered me a puppy dog look, pulling me into another tight hug.

"I really am sorry man," he promised, gripping harder when I refused to hug back. "You'll be fine though. Baxter's not a hardass. He believes in reform. I doubt he'll push for sentencing."

"Gee, that inspires a lot of hope," I muttered, though hoped what I heard the night I was arrested was right and that he does push for the Judge to go light on me.

Clark squeezed my middle tight, forcing out a genuine laugh.

"Asshole."

"I love you, man," he said, lowly.

It was right against my ear, so I could feel his lips brush against my skin softly with every word. My neck broke into goosebumps and I deflated a little in his hold.

"I love you too," I said back, soft enough that if he wanted to pretend it didn't happen he could.

Clark didn't though, he just pulled back and pushed my hair back from where it fell over my eyes.

"Come, let's get this over with. I have a Nissan filled with balloons waiting for us," he chirped, moving a step back.

I rolled my eyes. "Dude–"

"Come on! This warrants a celebration. My test was postponed three weeks while he comes up with new questions and my friend's avoiding jail time? Tell me you won't want cake after this, and little fun with helium?"

I gave him a fond look, internally scolding myself for folding so quickly to Clark.

"Whatever," I said, adding. "You're buying though."

"I will buy you as much cake as you want dude. Hell, I'll even spring for pie down on Diana's if that's more your poison. Mitchell doesn't have work so he's our driver for the day," he smirked, bumping my shoulder.

"I want to hear about the party by the way. No phone has been hell, but judging by the spring in your step I'm guessing you made progress with Jessica."

Clark had the decency to look uncomfortable, kicking the edge of his shoe against the step. 

"I didn't end up going. I ran straight home after I moved the car. I panicked man, I know, and I'm so sorry and swear I'll make it up to you for as long as I have to. Just... don't hate me," he pleaded and, fuck, a part of me breaks.

"We're good dude. Even if I do get Juvie, I promise I won't bounce back all your letters."

Clark threw his head back in a hard laugh, punching my arm.

"Fuck off. I'm not pulling any of that gay shit. I can barely write a book report, don't expect a sonnet from me," he added with a wry grin, shoulder checking me before running past and up the steps.

I shook my head, slowly making my way to the doors, surprised when Thomas and Dad came up beside me.

"Chin up, son," Dad said, resting a hand on my shoulder as we stopped at the door.

I nodded back.

Thomas matched my nod. "You got this man, we're all here with you. No matter what."

I could do this.

I glanced at Clark's figure, growing smaller behind the glass doors.

He waited as he joined what I assumed to be Mom and April and gathered myself before pushing the door open.

I could make it through this.