Snowed: Book 1 in the Bloodline of Yule Trilogy

Chapter 4

My eyes open the next morning to the sight of Mr. Spotty sitting on the shelf above my window. Mr. Spotty's grounded because I used his catapult arm to throw rocks at Charles. I didn't mean to hurt him. He was hiding in the bushes with his friends smoking pot. I just wanted to startle them, not take a hunk of flesh out of my brother's forehead.

Although, I'm kinda glad I did.

The other two robots aren't grounded, just temporarily decommissioned as I work on a new, far more sophisticated robot. Her name is Les Femmes Nikitas, and she flies. There are actually three of her but they fly together. She could seriously wreck the house—even the garage—so I only test her outside.

Still feeling like crap, I slip out of bed and check my phone. No texts from Keiko, just the BFJs. It's quieted down a bit, though. I go online. Keiko has unfriended me everywhere. I slouch over the keyboard, wishing I were dead.

I claim the bathroom before the boys can. As I brush my teeth, I glower at my ridiculous hair in the mirror. My dad is black. My mom is a ginger. My hair is doomed. By the time I'm out of the shower, Charles is banging on the bathroom door.

"Innaminute!" I yell.

Charles continues to assault the door. Mom chimes in. "What's going on in there?"

"Just doing my fracking hair!"

Mom yells, "Some women would kill for your hair! Ask Alex Kingston! You look just like her."

"Alex Kingston," I yell back, "is perfect in every way and is married to The Doctor." I punish the rebellious strands with more conditioner, tie them back, and apply mascara.

My dad shouts from the master bathroom, "River Song is not married to The Doctor, honey. That was in a timeline that no longer exists."

"River Song is totally married to The Doctor!" I burst out of the bathroom. "Love is—"

Aidan stands there, toothbrush in hand.

"—forever."

His eyes are a milky blue color, like that neon fluid you find inside glow sticks. Otherworldly. Alien. Beautiful. I fall into them for a moment.

I then realize my bathrobe is open. I clutch the collar closed and feel embarrassment burning up to my earlobes.

"I'm so sorry," he says. "Your mother said to wait here."

"It's okay," I sputter. Did he already shower? He smells good. I can't even look at him, I'm so mortified that I might have flashed him. "I'm done."

"Thank you," he mutters. As if paralyzed, he doesn't move until I try to step past.

Dad drives us to school. He insists. I'd rather risk the bus than be seen with my loser brother and Aidan, who looks dweeby in one of Dad's shirts and old gray ski jacket. He grips the straps of a sagging backpack Mom dug up from the garage. Before I can get out of the car, Dad taps his cheek and grins.

"Forgetting something?"

I lean over and give him a kiss. To my surprise, he gets out with us.

"I want you guys to help Aidan today, okay? Make sure he gets on the right bus and everything."

"Sure." How in the world can I help anyone today when I can't help myself? At least it's Friday. Just have to make it through one more day. Sometimes the weekend can reboot and correct social disk errors.

"Great. Catch you guys later." Dad waves to us as he walks Aidan to the school office. If only he hadn't gotten that job transfer a year ago, we'd still be in Woodland Hills. At my old school near Los Angeles. There were kids like me—multiracial, hella smart. No bullies.