Brilliant by Rachel Vail Page B

to? What if things went well with Mason, I was thinking (ha, ha, ha, ha, weird thought even to imagine a future with Mason) and we wanted to hang out or, like, mess around after school? Grandma’s living room? With the doilies? Yeah, right. Or the room Uncle David’s old trophies still decorated, that I’d be sharing with both my sisters? Oh, now that’s romantic.
    And what about family time, just our little family? We were just not going to have that anymore?
    But I didn’t say those things. I was mature and loving; I was Zen; I was just what they wanted and expected me to be. My humanity was being tested, and I did not enjoythe implication that I was doing poorly even for a moment on that fricking test.
    I did my best to ignore the dagger I could feel stabbing me through the right eye, after I checked my rearview mirror and saw it wasn’t there.
    By the time we got home, Allison and Mom were screaming at each other. I rolled my eyes at Allison and mumbled that she should just wear something else. “Who cares? Why does it have to be the shredded miniskirt when it’s going to annoy the hell out of Grandma?”
    Why did she always have to antagonize people?
    She flopped into my room, onto my bed, to complain, and I could have killed her. “Allison!” I yelled. “Get out! Okay? I told you to get out and leave me alone! Why do you have to…”
    “To what?”
    “You know exactly.”
    “What? Wear clothes I like? Is that such a horrible crime, Quinn? Just because I don’t dress like a middle-aged housewife?”
    “I don’t think wearing khaki shorts and a white T-shirt and flats is necessarily housewifey!”
    “Well, then you’re an idiot!” she yelled. “You are the most annoying person ever.”
    “Then get out!” I yelled back. “And leave my Sharpie!”
    “It’s mine!” She stomped out of my room with mySharpie in her hand and slammed my door shut on her way out.
    Whatever, I told myself. I had no right to yell at her for stealing a Sharpie after what I did. I would have to spend my whole life making it up to her.
    I considered, for the thousandth time, coming clean and admitting to her what had happened. It was just wrong to carry around a lie as I was doing. On the other hand, telling her would only hurt her. She was finally feeling good about herself, after years of definitely not. She had tried to do a modeling thing, which didn’t work out. She did get a callback, but since she refuses to talk about what happened when she went for her appointment, it’s obvious she was rejected pretty terribly. That kind of thing would have sent her into a pit of despair not long ago, but she has sort of come into herself lately, or anyway, that’s what I heard Dad saying to Mom the other night, proudly. So the last thing I needed to do was smash her bud of self-esteem. I have been her protector since she was born. Even if it is me I am protecting her from, I would never want to hurt her.
    First choice would be to erase what happened with Tyler, of course.
    Since that wasn’t an option, I’d just have to not unburden myself at her expense. I was in control of that, at least, and it was the least I could do for her.
    I just wished she’d make it easier to be nice to her. Andstop saying the word Tyler to me. It’s going to be such fun sharing a room with her, I thought, and with Phoebe, too, who, okay, is sweet, but right then I hated her anyway.
    I hated everybody right then. Including me.
    I flopped down on my bed and checked my phone.
    Nothing, no messages at all, including nothing from Oliver. Still. Which, fine.
    I opened my computer.
    No emails from him or from Mason, either, which was also fine. Didn’t expect any, since I hadn’t even given them my email address.
    None from Tyler, either. Thank goodness. The internet is such a time sink anyway. I shut my computer and vowed again not to think about that. I changed into some jean shorts, a black T-shirt, and my old high-top Chuck Taylors. And some lip