My house was smaller than it should have been. Too small for three people, but it was mine, and it was home, and I’d lived in it my entire life. Oh yeah, I was born and raised right here in Eugene. Julie thought that was crazy, like how do you even do that? Drive past the same stop signs for your entire existence and not go batshit crazy with boredom? Little does my dear friend know, I actually passed batshit crazy nineteen stop signs ago.

We always left the front door open so I quickly went inside…

“Mom, I’m home!” I called.

Claire Dobs was a musician, an artist like me. She mostly worked from home, tucked away at the back of the house in her studio/office. That’s when she wasn’t out doing shows or recording downtown.

She yelled back, “Feed your brother!”

I rolled my eyes, flinging my backpack onto our green sofa that was older than me.

Feed my brother. Yeah, when don’t I?

“Yo, Charlie!” I screamed, and the door to his room opened with a click.

He ran out, all blonde messy hair and flushed cheeks.

My brother was the only relatively athletic one in the family, and ever since turning eight last month it had become his mission to make the soccer team. He did push ups for hours everyday. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that it was just second grade soccer. They’d take anyone. I mean, sometimes I admired his commitment to it, but at other times, like now, I hated him because it meant I needed to cook macaroni for a small army given his increased appetite.

He slid onto one of the stools at the counter and started spinning…

“You got home late.” He noticed.

I shrugged and pulled a pot out of the cupboard.

“Spent some time in the library after school,”

Charlie nodded. “Homework time?”

I smiled. “Grab my backpack, it’s over there,” I pointed.

Another skill of my little brother’s was math. He was way above his age level, which was really helpful since I still had a hard time telling the difference between a seven and an eight. All I knew was that seven ate nine.

Charlie came back to the counter and placed my homework in front of him. I poured water into the pot and turned the stove on. My brother peered closer at the homework, rolling his sleeves up.

“Algebra or calculus?” He asked.

I frowned, staring at our choice of noodles…

“Elbow or rigatoni?”

Charlie giggled his cute laugh.

We’d been doing this little routine a lot lately. He’d help me with my homework and quiz me while I cooked. It was a vast improvement to a few years ago. Our brother/sister relationship wasn’t so great before I hit high school. It took me a building full of crappy adolescent teenagers, to realise just how much my little brother actually freaking rocked.

“Thanks,” he said, with a mouthful of elbow.

I put my finished homework away and ruffled his hair with a smile, before running off to my room. I sighed when I closed the door. Safe!

That word echoed in my head as if said by an umpire in a baseball game. The crowd cheered…

I didn’t sink into my bed like I wanted to. Like I usually did. Instead, I grabbed my sketchbook and flipped to a new page. But… something was missing.

Taking my phone out, I stared my ‘angry songs’ playlist. Turning it way the fuck up, I started sketching madly to Panic! At the Disco.

I sighed. Art helped. Making something helped, but the anger was still there.

I quickly grabbed my oil pastels. The picture I’d been working on was a really bad caricature of me stabbing Theo to death with a rolled up spike of paper. His cheated test…

The oil pastels made the scene really come to life… yes, bleed bitch! I pretended that the red crayon I was using was actually a knife or something, making the blood appear as I stabbed the paper over and over.

I dared not even call these thoughts “intrusive” because they weren’t technically wrong. I seriously wanted to stab this guy. I mean, he basically stole from me!

Then, as the song changed to a Black Veil Brides song, a slower angry song, my anger faded with the tempo.

Well what was that today at lunch? Theo had saved me! That other creep, trying to touch me, yeesh!

But then Theo was there, like a shining knight. If he wasn’t who he was, if Theo wasn’t the cheater and the thief that he was, I’d thank him.

For a few minutes, I changed the playlist. Classical music. What can I say? I’m a girl of many genres. I let the pastels stop coloring in the blood red of death and instead turned the page, grabbing the black pastel, way overused, and beginning a sketch of him as if he were a prince…

Hair flowing in the wind. Eyes, calm but powerful. It kind of resembled him, I decided.

I was way too proud of the drawing to tear it out or draw over it, but as the anger came back I changed the music again.

I flipped the page and sketched one more scene…

Theo sitting on a jewel encrusted throne, holding his chin up in evil pride. A king’s crown on his head, tilted slightly to the left… he looked like a rich overlord. Which, I guess he was. He looked like he’d cheat on that test a thousand times if it meant he got what he wanted.

I started daydreaming again, doodling a mustache on him and a unibrow. Defacing my own artwork as I tried to get my anger out.

The music calmed me a bit. It felt like Brendon was yelling just for me, what a sweetheart…

Eventually I closed the book and stared down at my hands. They were totally covered in color. I had the strange urge to touch my hair, so I did, rubbing the colors on my hands into the dark strands of my dyed black hair.

I must look crazy now. I sure felt crazy.

Frowning, I collapsed back in bed with a defeated sigh.

I needed that scholarship, more than anything. And Theo took it. And goddamn him I was going to take it back.