Rules Of Attraction by Simone Elkeles Page A

straight for polka-dot hell. When I pass Brandon’s
    room the kid is sitting on the floor, wearing pajamas with little
    baseballs, mitts, and bats splattered all over them. The little kid is
    playing with plastic soldiers. He looks all innocent and happy. It’s easy
    for him—he hasn’t been exposed to the real world.
    The real world sucks.
    As soon as he sees me, he smiles wide. “Hey, Carlos, wanna play
    soldiers?”
    “Not tonight.”
    “Tomorrow night?” he asks, hope filling his voice.
    “I don’t know.”
    “What does that mean?”
    “It means ask me tomorrow and I might have a different answer.”
    On second thought, “Get your sister to play with you.”
    “She just did. Now it’s your turn.”
    My turn? This kid has serious delusions if he thinks that I actually
    want a turn. “Tell you what. After school tomorrow I’ll play soccer with
    you. If you can get one goal off me, I’ll play soldiers with you.”
    The kid looks confused. “I thought you didn’t play soccer.”
    “I lied.”
    “You’re not s’posed to do that.”
    “Yeah, well, when you’re a teenager you’ll be doin’ it all the time.”
    He shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”
    I chuckle. “Call me when you’re sixteen. I guarantee you’ll have a
    different opinion,” I say, then head for my room. Kiara is in the hallway.
    Her ponytail is loose, and most of her hair has managed to escape. I’ve
    never met any girl who cares less about her appearance.
    “Where you goin’ all dressed up?” I joke.
    She clears her throat, like she’s stalling. “Jogging,” she says.
    “For what?”
    “Exercise. You . . . can come.”
    “Nah.” I’ve always had the theory that people who exercise are
    white-collar stiffs, ’cause most of their day is spent sitting on their
    asses. She starts to walk away, but I call her back.
    “Kiara, wait.” She turns around. “Tell Tuck to stay out of my way.
    And about your showertime schedule . . .”
    I’m gonna let her know how it is, let her know who’s boss here. Her
    father might try and dictate rules I have no intention of keepin’, but
    nobody, especially not a gringa, dictates when I can take a shower. I
    cross my arms over my chest and tell her straight up, “I don’t do
    schedules.”
    “Well, I d-do, so get used t-to it,” she says, then turns away from
    me and heads straight for the stairs.
    I stay in my room until morning, when the Professor’s voice bellows
    through the door.
    “Carlos, if you’re not up, you’d better get a move on. We’re leaving
    in a half hour.”
    When I hear his footsteps retreat, I crawl out of bed and head to
    the bathroom. I open the door and find Brandon brushing his teeth.
    He’s getting toothpaste all over our sink and his mouth, and he looks
    like he’s got rabies.
    “Hurry up, cachorro. I gotta take a leak.”
    “I don’t know what cha-cha-cho-ro-ro means.”
    The kid isn’t fluent in Spanish, that’s for sure. “Good,” I say.
    “You’re not supposed to.”
    Brandon finishes up while I lean against the doorway. I hear Kiara’s
    door open. She walks out of her room, all dressed. Well, you can’t
    exactly call it dressed. She’s got her hair up in her signature ponytail, a
    yellow T-shirt with the word ‘ADVENTURELAND’ on it, baggy brown
    shorts, and hiking boots.
    One look at me and her eyes go all wide and her face gets all red.
    She looks away.
    “Ha, ha, ha!” Brandon laughs, pointing to my boxer briefs. I look
    down to make sure I don’t have my own perky private showing. “Kiara
    saw your underpants! Kiara saw your underpants!” he sings.
    She walks downstairs and is out of sight within seconds.
    I narrow my eyes at Brandon. “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re
    an annoyin’ little shit sometimes?”
    Brandon’s hand flies to his mouth and he sucks in a breath. “You
    said a bad word.”
    I’m internally rolling my eyes. I’m definitely gonna have to start
    speakin’ Spanish around this kid so