Jamie, meet Dylan. Dylan, meet Jamie

Chapter Twelve

"Hi Jamie!" I heard Meredith say. She smiled and waved at me.

"Oh, hey Meredith. What's up?" I asked her.

"Not much," she shrugged.

"It's a cool place," I said, looking around the attic.

"Yeah it is, except I'm not exactly allowed to be here," she confessed.

I furrowed my brow. "How come?"

"Dylan wants this to be his super-private space," she said with a shrug. I couldn't help but think if she was a victim of Dylan's twisted games or now. "I don't know what he has up his sleeve. My brother's pretty weird," she said with a shrug. I found my answer; she wasn't.

I smiled at her statement; not disagreeing nor concuring.

"Jamie, I have a question," she said as she leaned on the banister of the attic stairs. "Are you really friends with my brother because you actually like him or because you're stuck with him?" she asked me, her voice etching with curiosity. That caught me off guard. I gulped.

"What makes you say that?" I asked her.

Meredith shrugged. "A lot of people back in DC. hated Dylan, except for like one guy whom I felt was stuck with Dylan like he was forced to or something," she said with a second shrug. She looked behind her for Dylan but fortunately for the both of us, he wasn't there.

He had done this before?...I thought in surprise.

"Who was he?" I asked her.

"I don't remember exactly, but I-"

"What the hell are you doing up here?" Dylan's voice startled us both as Meredith jumped up in surprise.

"Sorry!" she said sheepishly.

"I told you this was my space,' he told her. "Do you want me barging into your room and talking to your friends?" he asked her.

"Oh God, no, thanks," she said and Dylan kicked her from behind playfully. It relaxed me knowing they shared a very normal brother/sister relationship and I was happy she wasn't part of his puppet show.

He placed a box on the floor and wiped his hands on his jeans. He went back down the stairs and locked the door behind him. Now I was scared.

"What time is it?" Jamie asked me with crossed arms.

I gulped and looked at my watch. "Four fourty."

"And what time did I tell you to come here?" he said,

"Four," I told him, my voice evidently shaky.

"You don't take me seriously, do you? You don't think I can hurt you," he said as he encircled me. Beads of sweat formed on my forehead and I didn't know whether I should reply or shut up. I went for the latter.

"Let's see; you came late despite the fact I told you to come at four countless of times today. You pushed me at your father's campaign office, you thought I was too stupid and tried to trick me into believing your brother's room was yours, you talked back to me several times, and your attitude is pissing me off so much. What can I do to discipline you, Jamie?" he said. He tapped his finger against his lips.

"You know I really wish I shouldn't do this, but I have to show you how much power I have over you and I have to discipline you for your foolish behavior," he continued. I remained still, trying to look impassive so he would not sense how scared I actually was. This wasn't funny anymore. He wasn't predictable anymore and for that I was scared.

He walked to the box he had recently brought in and spilled the contents onto the floor. Different tools sprawled across the attic floor, and I drifted my eyes away. I didn't want to see what they were.