The Bullies Who Loved Me Read online

  “But you were.” She looks around, standing up. “We should leave.”

  I don’t move, don’t think I can. I’m pretty much revealing to the world who my brother really was.

  “I can’t go home,” I find myself saying. “I can’t tell my sister. It’ll crush her.”

  She’s back at my side, slowly moving her hand to my shoulder, then dropping it like she’s not sure if she should touch me.

  I’m surprised she’s even considering it. I was an ass to her.

  “But I have to,” I continue. “Phoebe needs to hear it from me.” Grabbing onto the wall for support, I heave my body up. It feels like I’ve got stones on my back.

  “Let me walk you home,” I say.

  “That’s okay. You should talk to your sister.”

  I look around. Crap. I forgot about work. I’m so messed up I’m not thinking clearly. Phoebe is at the library and won’t come home until later. I have some time before I shatter her world forever.

  Daphne and I part ways, she to her house and me to the bus stop. The last thing I want to do right now is work, but someone needs to keep us afloat.

  The hours pass in a blur. I think I help customers, maybe I stock shelves, I have no idea. But I find myself getting off the bus and entering my house.

  Dad, as usual, is at the TV. Chances are he’ll hear about Blake if he watches the news within the next few days. He doesn’t usually, so I’m hoping he won’t find out, at least not for a little while.

  Half an hour later while I’m working on dinner, Phoebe comes home from the library. “Hi.” She plops down on the chair, chucking her backpack on the floor. “School sucked.”

  “Did you get into another fight?” I ask as I make us sandwiches. I’m too distracted and messed up to make anything else. Besides, the fridge is empty. Dad’s going to be pissed, but I’ll take whatever he throws at me. I’m feeling shitty enough and it can’t get any worse.

  “No, no fights,” my sister says. “But I wanted to. I held back because you told me to.”

  “Good.”

  She peers into the living room, where the old man is slumped in his seat, TV’s volume to the max. “What happened this morning? Did he hurt you?”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Eric.”

  “Here’s your sandwich.”

  She twists her mouth. “I don’t want a damn sandwich. I’m worried something’s going to happen to you. You’re at work all the time and you do so much here. What if you die? I’ll be stuck with him.” Tears pool in her eyes before gushing down her cheeks.

  I’m at her side, taking her hands. “I’m not going anywhere, Phoebs. Don’t worry. You’ll be stuck with me even when you’re, like, fifty.”

  She swipes at her eyes. “You’re always protecting me, but who’s going to protect you?”

  I hand her a tissue. “I can take care of myself, little sis. I’m strong. And I don’t want you worrying about me. Have fun with your friends.”

  She doesn’t say anything as she wipes her eyes and nose. I reach for two sandwiches and hand her one. My stomach is in knots. How am I going to tell her the truth when she’s like this?

  But I have no choice. News might spread by tomorrow, and I don’t need her hearing it from kids at her school.

  “Hey, Phoebe?”

  She swallows. “Yeah.”

  “I need to talk to you about something.”

  She nods, waiting.

  I avert my gaze, then take a huge chunk of bread and peanut butter. She’s been through a lot, more than most kids her age, and I know she’s strong enough to handle it. I don’t think she has another choice.

  I’m about to tell her, when Dad calls from his room. “Where’s my food?”

  Phoebe’s eyes widen. “You can’t give him sandwiches.”

  “Yeah, well I forgot to go shopping,” I mutter, grabbing a plate and stalking to the living room.

  I place the plate down on the table, along with a bottle of beer I find floating around. He reaches for the food without even glancing at it and brings it to his mouth.

  “What is this shit?” he demands. “Peanut butter and jelly?”

  I turn to go, but he grabs me by the back of my shirt. “Answer me, boy.”

  I pull free. “It’s all we have for now. Eat it and…” I grit my teeth before I can finish that sentence. I don’t want him hitting me in front of my little sister. “I’ll make something better tomorrow.”

  He flings the plate across the wall, and it shatters to the floor. “Order me a pizza pie and clean that up. And you fucking kids can’t have any pizza.”

  He continues to mutter as I return to the kitchen. I made enough this week to afford a pie for the bastard, but our money is really tight. I’m still paying for those snow globes I broke.

  “Eric, let me get a job. Let me do something. I’m not just a stupid kid. I can help.”

  “We talked about this,” I say as I call the nearest pizza place. “Want a slice, Phoebe? Dad doesn’t have to know.”

  Her face lights up a little, but then a cloud hovers above again. “No, you should keep your money. This sandwich is fine.”

  At least she gets free lunch at school and I know she’s eating a proper meal. “Go to your room. I’ll be there soon so we can talk.”

  She doesn’t move, eyes latched on mine.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Let me help. I can work at the school library. They’re looking for an assistant.”

  “No. Be a kid.”

  “But—”

  I give her a look, something Blake called “the big brother look.” He used it on me and I use it on her. She knows she won’t win this argument.

  “Did you order me that pizza, little shit?” Dad calls.

  “Go to your room, Phoebs.”

  She crosses her arms before stomping up there. But then she remembers Dad doesn’t like to be interrupted from his shows and she eases her steps.

  I wait for the pizza to come, then hand it to my dad like he’s a damn king. I wish I would have ordered a slice for my sister, but she wouldn’t have accepted it. And besides, we kind of do need the money.

  When he’s all satisfied and won’t yell again, I climb the stairs to Phoebe’s room. She’s on her stomach, earbuds in her ears as she watches something on her phone. Blake got that for her on her twelfth birthday.

  I have no idea how I’m going to do this. But I have to.

  She drags the earbuds out when she notices me standing in the doorway. She rolls onto her back. “Was he pissed?”

  “He’s fine now.” I step into her room and look around. She’s changed it, made it look more like a pre-teenager than a little girl. Her stuffed animals that used to line the shelf are gone. Blake and I used to buy a plush whenever we saw one and she gathered a huge collection. But it’s all gone now. Must be too painful for her.

  She really has grown up these last few months.

  “Why are you standing there like that?” she asks, looking at me like I fell from Mars or the moon.

  I move deeper into her room, shut the door behind me, and lean against the wall. “It’s just crazy how much you’ve grown.”

  She gives me that same face, except now I have two heads. “Okay? You’re being super weird.” She drops down on the bed, eyes on the ceiling. “You better not be thinking about killing yourself.” Her tone is sarcastic, but I know she’s anything but that.

  I lower myself onto the edge of her bed, like I remember Mom doing when I was really little. And Dad did it, too, before he turned crazy. “I told you I’m not going anywhere. I’ll never leave you.”

  She rolls onto an elbow. “Then why are you being weird?”

  I busy myself with staring at her bedspread. What happened to the mermaids? It’s gray and dull now. Maybe that’s how she feels on the inside. When I’m not having fun with my friends or sister, I feel the same.

  It’s easy to forget my problems when I’m at school, but then it all comes crashing d
own.

  “Eric, what’s up?”

  I pull my eyes away from the bedspread, to her. “I need to tell you something.”

  “You said that already.”

  I nod, focusing on her bedspread again. She sits up sharply, eyes wide. “Are you sick?”

  I place my hands on her shoulders. “No. I’m trying to figure out the right way to tell you, but maybe there’s no right way.”

  I saved a copy of the video on my phone and laptop, but I don’t think showing it to her is a good idea. She’s mature for her age, but she’s still a kid. I don’t want her to see how torn up my brother was minutes before he killed himself.

  “Just say it,” she says. “Am I in some sort of trouble? Are you? Tell me.”

  I examine her room some more. “You got rid of your stuffed animals.”

  She shrugs. “It’s been like that for a while. I guess you never noticed.”

  No. I’ve had lots of other things on my mind.

  “You’re stalling,” she says.

  I scrub my hand down my face, letting out a deep breath. I can hear the TV yelling from downstairs and the cars honking outside.

  “I found…” I start, then stop. “There’s something you need to know about the night Blake died. And the circumstances surrounding it.”

  She lifts a brow. “What is it?” She plays with a loose strand on her shirtsleeve. I haven’t noticed it before, but she’s dressed in dark colors, not her usual bright and cheery ones. Not that I blame her. I’m not cheery anymore, either.

  “I found something a few days ago,” I continue. “In Blake’s room.”

  She watches me for a little bit. “We haven’t gone into his room in four months.”

  “I know. I found pictures that Dad ruined with his bottle throwing and I wanted to put them in his room.”

  “So you went snooping in there? He’s dead, Eric. You can’t look through his things. I wouldn’t want anyone looking at my stuff.”

  “I know that. I didn’t do it on purpose. I put the photos away and leaned on the wall. One of his posters fell. There was a safe hidden in his wall. It was unlocked.”

  She lifts both brows. “So you snooped?”

  “I had to know what he was keeping in the safe, Phoebe.”

  “What did you find? Money? Was he planning on running away or something?” Her face changes. “Or is he really alive?”

  The hope in her voice stabs me all over. I also wish he was secretly alive.

  “Is he?” she urges.

  I slowly shake my head. “There was a video, on a flash drive.”

  “A video? About what?”

  I release a heavy breath. “Phoebe, he admitted to killing that girl at the party.”

  She stares at me, mouth and eyes wide, the color draining from her face. “No. No!”

  I reach to pull her into my arms, but she shoves at my chest, kicking me off the bed. I fall to the floor like a dead log.

  “You’re lying! Why would you lie about something like that? Blake didn’t kill that girl. Jackson did.”

  I sit up. “I’m not lying.”

  “Shut up!”

  “Phoebe.”

  “Shut up. Get out of my room. I don’t want to talk to you!”

  “Phoebe.”

  Tears splash down her cheeks as she snatches her pillow and hurls it across the room. It crashes into her art project she made last year—a model of the Globe Theater. The entire thing smashes to the ground.

  She spent days working on that. Dad, Blake, and I helped her. It wasn’t just her project but the entire family’s. And now she’s on the floor, punching it and tearing it apart.

  I jump to my feet and try to grab her arms, but she elbows me in the stomach. She’s stronger than I thought and I falter back. I’m back at her side, pulling at her arms.

  “Phoebe, stop. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

  “I don’t care. Get the hell out of my room.”

  I try to hold her close, but she keeps whacking her hands into me. “He’ll hear you,” I say.

  “I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care!”

  She continues to punch and kick me, but she’s getting tired and it’s not long before she collapses on my chest.

  “You’re lying,” she says in a weak voice, soaking my shirt with her tears.

  I rub the back of her head, biting my lip. I knew she wouldn’t take the news well, but I didn’t think it would turn out like this.

  “I wish I were,” I tell her, my voice just as low.

  She continues to sniff, muttering over and over that it can’t be true. Other than that and Dad yelling at the TV, the house is silent.

  After a little while, Phoebe lifts her head. “Can I see it?”

  “What?”

  “The video.”

  “No.”

  “Eric.”

  I stare into her eyes. “No way in hell. And besides, the cops have it.”

  “Why?”

  “I handed it to them to help get Jackson out of jail. It’s not right for him to be there when he did nothing wrong.”

  She’s quiet as she thinks it over. “So…now everyone will know the truth. That our older brother was a killer.”

  I slowly nod, not looking her way. I don’t want to see the pain on her face. I saw it enough after Blake died.

  She crosses her arms over her chest, sniffing as more tears enter her eyes. “I know you saved a copy. I want to see the video.”

  “I said no.”

  She glares at me, the tears dripping down her cheeks. “I’m not a little kid. Stop treating me like one. It was his…” She swipes at her eyes. “It was the last few moments of his life. I want to see it.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t want you to feel worse than you already do.”

  “I’m not going to stop bugging you about it until you let me see it. Besides, what if it gets out? The whole world will see it and not me?”

  I rub my face. “It won’t get out.”

  She gives me a face. “Just let me see it. I already hate Dad. And maybe Blake a little because he left us. Do you want me to hate you, too?”

  “As long as it protects you, you can hate me as much as you want.”

  She glares at me. I glare back. We must be doing this for about a minute before she leaps over me like an acrobat and jets down the hall.

  I rush after her, lunging at her, but she’s already made it to my room and snatches my phone off the bed.

  She doesn’t have a chance to unlock it before I tackle her to the floor, pulling the phone from her fingers. I’ve got her legs trapped beneath me, but I’m careful not to hurt her.

  “I hate you!” she cries as she thrashes around. “Why’s it okay for you to see it and not me? We’re a team, remember? Isn’t that what you said after he died and Dad turned crazy?”

  I continue holding her in place as she tries to kick me. “Why do you want to see it so badly? I already told you what’s on it.”

  “And I told you I want to see his last few minutes alive.” She narrows her eyes. “Are you hiding something else? Is that why you won’t let me see it?”

  “No.”

  “I don’t believe you!” She stops kicking. “What’s the big deal? He was my brother, too.”

  I sit back. She’s right. Who am I to deny her seeing Blake alive one last time? Yes, watching the video is hard, but what gives me the right to hide it from her?

  If the video somehow gets out, people might manipulate it, make it seem like he was a monster. She needs to know how torn up he was about what he did.

  “Fine.” I get up, holding out my hand. “You can watch it.”

  She stares up at me. “Really?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know what the right thing is. You’re not a little kid. You had to grow up quickly. You should see him alive one last time.”

  She lets me pull her up, then we sit down on my bed. I hand her my phone, wrapping my arm around her and pulling her close.

&nbs
p; She waits a bit before clicking on the video. As soon as his face appears on the screen, Phoebe intakes a sharp breath at how messed up he looks. I squeeze her arm.

  After she’s done, she watches it another time. Then another. I stay by her side through it all, never leaving her alone. As hard as it is watching it so many times, I want to be there for her.

  When she’s done, she lifts her head, wiping her cheeks. “He really did it.”

  “Yeah.”

  Quiet.

  “Is that why you wanted to see the video?” I ask. “To make sure I was telling the truth?”

  She doesn’t say anything for a little while. Then, “You really gave it to the cops? Everyone will know he’s a murderer.”

  “I had to. Jackson confessed to a crime he didn’t commit. It’s not fair.”

  “I know. He could have come forth after Blake died. Why’s he keeping quiet?”

  “Because he has no proof. No one would believe him.” Just like they didn’t believe Daphne. My heart still clenches whenever I think about what I did to her. I hate who I was, and I never want to be that person again. Which is why I was so determined to get the truth out there and help Jackson. I don’t want anyone else to suffer because of me.

  I lightly poke my sister’s shoulder with mine. “Are you okay? Talk to me.”

  She lets out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know. Everything is so messed up. I never knew he partied so much. Or that he drank so much. And the way he treated that girl. Eric, did we even know him?”

  It’s true. I was closer to him than she was and I never knew just how hard he partied. And he kept something so big from me. Not to mention he never once took Daphne’s side. He stood there while she tried to fight for the truth and didn’t think of confessing. Because of that, I made her life a living hell. And of course an innocent guy was sent to jail.

  All because he lied.

  But at the same time, how would I handle my older brother going to prison? How would Phoebe handle it? Dad? Would he turn out this way, anyway?

  I hold her tightly as we sit in silence, each of us buried in our thoughts.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Daphne

  The minute Eric enters school, my eyes immediately meet his. He looks like he didn’t get any sleep last night.