Chapter 5 - After the Balloons
The balloons kept bumping the ceiling every time the front door opened. That was the sound the rest of the party made. A soft rubber squeak, then cold air, then someone saying sorry like it was their fault.
I stayed by the wall where he’d left me. My dress stuck to the back of my legs. The rug squished under my shoes where the frosting had soaked in. Mom’s friend from church had put a paper towel over the worst of it, but the blue had already bled through.
He didn’t look at me for a while. He stood by the door in his black suit and shook hands and said thanks for coming, thanks for coming, like he was practicing it. His white shirt had a smear of orange on the cuff. He kept pulling at it.
She stayed close to him. Her dark green dress didn’t have anything on it. She stood a half-step behind his shoulder with her hand light on his back, and when people glanced at me, she gave them a sad smile.
Mrs. Keller stopped with her purse strap up on her shoulder. “You want help cleaning up, honey?”
“We’ve got it,” he said fast. “Thank you.”
I wanted to say something. My throat was raw from crying. I just breathed in and out through my nose and watched their shoes go past the smashed cake.
When the last car pulled out of the driveway, he locked the deadbolt. The click was loud. The streamers moved a little from the heater vent.
He turned around. For a second nobody moved.
“Go to your room,” he said.
I didn’t move. “But—”
“Now.” His voice wasn’t shouting anymore. That was worse. It was flat. “You ruined the party. Go to your room and think about what you did.”
She touched his arm. “Hey. Easy.”
He didn’t shake her off. He kept his eyes on me. “Give me the phone.”
My stomach dropped. I’d been holding it so tight the purple case was warm. “It’s mine.”
“It’s got that video on it,” he said. “I’m keeping it safe. Hand it over.”
I looked at the front window. The balloons reflected in the glass. I thought if I kept it, I could show Mom when she got home from her shift, I could prove I wasn’t lying.
“Please,” I whispered. “Don’t—”
He held out his hand and waited. His fingers were shaking a little. I put the phone in his palm because he was my brother and that’s what you do, even when you don’t want to.
He slid it into his suit pants pocket. Not his jacket. His pants, where it wouldn’t fall out. I watched the shape of it press against the black fabric.
“Upstairs,” he said, nodding toward the hallway.
I walked past them. The hallway wood was cold through my thin socks — I’d lost one shoe somewhere by the rug and didn’t realize until then. The framed flag on the living room wall caught my eye as I turned. The glass had a smudge on it.
Behind me I heard her voice go soft. “Come here.” Fabric moved. I figured she was hugging him. “You did the right thing. That was so stressful for you.”
I stopped at the bottom step. I wasn’t supposed to listen, but my feet wouldn’t go up.
“You okay?” she asked him.
“No,” he said. “God.” He breathed out hard. “Everyone saw that.”
“I know. I’m so sorry. She’s just — she’s ten. She doesn’t get how that looked.”
There was a pause. I heard him walk a few steps. Ice in a cup? He must have grabbed the soda from the kitchen counter.
She said, quieter, “Can I ask you something? Just to make this easier on both of us.”
“What.”
“That video. It’s freaking people out. It’s freaking me out, honestly, the way she’s talking about it. If you delete it, we can just — start over. Tell everyone it was a misunderstanding. I can talk to her tomorrow.”
My hand gripped the stair rail. Don’t, I thought. Don’t.
He didn’t answer right away. A balloon popped somewhere in the living room, a sharp snap that made me jump.
“No,” he said.
“No?”
“I’m not deleting it,” he said. “I need to think. I’m keeping it.”
“You don’t trust me?” Her voice went up at the end, thin.
“It’s not about that,” he said. “I just — I’m not deleting anything tonight.”
I heard her shoes shift on the wood floor. “Okay. Okay, I get it. I’m just trying to help.”
“Go wash up or something,” he said, tired. “I need a minute.”
I ran up the stairs before he turned around. I didn’t even feel the steps. I got to my room and shut the door soft, not slammed, because I didn’t want another reason to be in trouble.
May you like
Downstairs, the heater clicked on. The house was too quiet without the music and the talking. I sat on the edge of my bed in my white dress with frosting still on the hem and listened to the floor creak as he walked back and forth in the living room.
The phone was in his pocket. Not deleted. That had to mean something.
