The Tattooed Devil Wears Chucks

A Luxberg Night

Gabby.

"Five minutes, or I'm leaving without you! You can walk, for all I care!" I scream up the stairs to the second floor of our family home—a sound as common as the creaky steps it carries over.

"I'm coming!" Sydney yells right back at the top of her lungs, winning this round of tonight's scream-off.

Brat.

My foot begins impatiently tapping on the tan linoleum floor of the kitchen, and I snap the purple rubber band on my wrist. The tiny tingle on my skin makes Syd's voice a little more tolerable. I hate when I'm forced to take her to a friend's house. Everything in town is within walking distance. When I was thirteen, I had to walk.

I snap the rubber band again.

"Calm down." Mom huffs as she walks by with a basket filled with laundry. The air fills with the scent of Downey and Bounce dryer sheets. "It's not like you need to be anywhere right this instant."

"She's taking forever! I'm supposed to hang out with Morgan and Cole in ten minutes!" I glance up at the clock again, seeing I'm running later than I thought—eight minutes.

"To do what?" She lifts a brow to me as she folds towels, neatly forming a pile on the countertop.

I can't exactly tell my mother that the town drunk is meeting me at the gas station in eight minutes to buy my booze for the night. Time to lie on the fly.

I shrug and cross my arms across my chest. "Studying."

I'm terrible at lying, but perhaps I can get away with this by offering some humor. It couldn't hurt. We both know there's no way in hell that I'm opening a textbook tonight. Now a novel, that type of book would be a different story.

"You know I don't believe that for a second, right?" She continues folding. "I send the report cards. I know your test scores before you do."

"Believe what you wish, dear mother. I study damn hard for those Cs."

I watch as she presses her lips together, shaking her head in an attempt not to laugh. She knows me better than that. All I ever do is read. I don't believe I've ever actually studied before, except for my driver's exam. She won't complain though, because my grades are way better than Felix's were when he was still in high school.

"Call if you need a designated driver, please. Even if you only have one drink."

I stare down at my mud-stained chucks and smile. My mom isn't stupid. She knows exactly where I am going. The town drunk, the one supplying our spirits tonight, is her brother Tim. She knows, as well as I do, dad will not be patrolling town tonight, and we can get away with a little fun while he's out on the county highways.

"Okay?" she demands her answer, her tired blue eyes lifting to mine.

"Yes, ma'am." I nod.

"Thank you."

"SYD!"

My mother jumps—startled by my second outburst—and clutches her chest with a roll of her eyes. You would think she would be accustomed to our screaming matches by now. She's only had to deal with them since my sister could speak.

"Alright! Jeez, Gabby! Calm down!" The annoyed voice of my sister comes from above me.

Sydney rushes down the stairs and grabs her purse, becoming the third and final Brooks blonde to enter the kitchen. She moves past me with haste, clearly not wanting me to see something as she ducks her head. It's hard to miss, though—I take one look at her barely hidden face and burst into a fit of laughter. Her cheeks are bright pink with lavender eye shadow and a heavy-winged eyeliner.