I rolled out of bed with a wince on Saturday morning, moving slowly to avoid aggravating my poor legs. Coach had really done a number on us yesterday. Cons of having a game-free weekend; he was free to beat us up as much as he wanted during practice that week.
Finn and I were supposed to be picking up our parents from the airport at two this afternoon, so I had several hours to kill. I grabbed a granola bar for breakfast and decided to knock out some homework. We'd only been back in school for a week and teachers had somehow already decided it was okay to pile on the assignments.
Around noon, I wandered into our luxurious kitchen, the one area of the house where our parents had spared no expense. The marble countertops were always perfectly polished and gleaming, the refrigerators and cabinets were always well-stocked, and every cooking utensil known to mankind hung from organized racks around the spacious area.
I gathered ingredients for lunch. Finn and I had both learned to cook at a young age, thanks to our parents' culinary interests, so they'd begun leaving us at home from a young age, never worried about us starving when they traveled to expand their business. Of course, as we grew older, there were other concerns with leaving the two of us in the house alone, but we tried our best to make sure they never found out about those adventures.
As I began boiling water to make fettuccine, I heard the front door open and slam shut. Finn stumbled into the kitchen raggedly, Kieran close behind. Both boys looked worse for wear. Finn's shirt was both wrinkled and inside out, and a large hickey stood out in dark contrast against the pale skin of his neck. Kieran seemed more put-together—at least, all of his clothes were oriented correctly—but the furrow of his eyebrows suggested that he was in more pain than he let on.
"Morning, boys!" I chirped. "Or should I say, afternoon?"
Finn groaned. "Can you not be so goddamn chipper right now?" He slumped into a stool at the island, burying his face in his arms.
I laughed. "Would lunch make you feel better?"
He perked up. "That would be amazing."
"Then make it yourself," I said sweetly, turning to check on my alfredo sauce. "This is for me."
"Fuck you," he muttered. "I didn't even call you for a ride last night."
Kieran snorted. "Yeah, 'cause you were too busy getting a ride from—"
"I changed my mind! Shut up about last night and whatever mess you got up to and I'll make you both lunch. Sound good?" I did not want to hear those details. Ever.
The boys nodded. I got to work, preparing a couple extra ingredients and tripling the size of the portions I had planned on making. Less than half an hour later, I set three plates of steaming fettuccine alfredo down on the counter: two with chicken, for the boys, and one with spinach and mushrooms for myself.
Finn practically lunged for the food, stuffing his face immediately. "You're the best sister ever," he mumbled through a mouthful of pasta.
Kieran nodded, taking a smaller bite. "Thanks, Abby."
I sat down across from them, savoring the rich flavors as I ate. "Don't expect this to become a common occurrence. So, who all was at this party?"
"I thought you didn't want to hear about it?" Finn asked.
"I don't want to hear about who you screwed last night. I was just wondering who was there."
"I mean, most of the team was there," my brother said. "Cairo, Ashton, Luke, Maddox, Henry, and some of Cairo's school friends." He sighed wistfully. "Like Eden."
Kieran sat bolt upright. "Eden was the girl you hooked up with?"
Finn blinked. "Yeah...?"
"Dude, she's Marissa's best friend!"
He paled. Well, as much as a redhead can pale, since we were both pretty pasty to begin with. "Oh shit."
I almost gagged. "You've got to be kidding me. Eden Sayed? Of all people?" I knew her from soccer as a vicious demon who liked to play dirty when the referee wasn't looking. She was the second person on my shit list. The first spot belonged to her best friend Marissa Willingham, also known as Kieran's ex, though the two of them had been my enemies long before Marissa and Kieran dated. The fettuccine suddenly churned uncomfortably in my stomach. "How did you not know who she was? Or recognize her name? You don't exactly run into people named Eden on every street."
"I was drunk! And I had other things on my mind than where I knew her from," he whined. "Besides, she acted like she didn't know me either."
Kieran scoffed. "Dios, Finn, you're so easy. And gullible. What'd she do, bat her eyelashes and feed you some cheesy line about what a great soccer player you are?"
Finn ducked his head, stuffing some more pasta in his mouth and mumbling something unintelligibly, which I took to be a yes.
"I thought you knew better than to get involved with the friends of your friend's ex," I said. "Isn't that breaking one of the sacred rules of bro code or something?"
Kieran heaved a dramatic sigh. "How could you betray me like this?" His dark eyes glittered in amusement as we needled Finn.
My brother groaned. "I hate you both. I get it, I fucked up, literally. How did this even come up? I thought the whole point was to avoid talking about last night." He narrowed his eyes at me. "Why did you ask me about who was at the party? Was there someone specific you wanted to know about?"
My jaw dropped as the two boys stared at me expectantly. "No! I was just wondering! That's it, I swear." Neither of them looked convinced, but I glanced at the clock and found my way out. "And anyway, that's not important right now. We have to go grab Mom and Dad from the airport!"
I shooed Kieran out the front door before the two of them could interrogate me further. Finn had begun doing the dishes upon my return, which was nice of him, and likely his way of showing his true gratitude. I also knew that our parents would be furious if they returned home to find anything in the kitchen not spotless, so there was a big chance that he was only doing this out of self-preservation. But I preferred to think it was for the first reason.
I wiped down the countertop as Finn put the last plate in the dishwasher. "Thank you for doing the dishes, brother dear, but make sure you take some Advil before we go. I don't want you yakking in my car on the drive to the airport." Grabbing my car keys, I slid my feet into my beat-up running shoes and headed for the garage, where my beloved red Jeep, Charlotte, awaited. It had taken me three summers of saving to get this car. Finn had done a lot of risky things while grounded, but even he knew that taking my car keys without my permission was tantamount to an instant death sentence worse than any punishment our parents could come up with.
"I love you, Charlie," I sighed as I patted my steering wheel. Finn gave me a sideways look as he pulled a sweatshirt over his inside out t-shirt.
"You're so weird," he muttered. "How are we related?"
I started the car. "I ask myself the same thing every day."
About an hour later, just before 2PM, I pulled up to the Southwest terminal at Kansas City International. "You know, I've always been confused why the abbreviation for this airport is officially MCI. KCI makes way more sense." I hated this airport. The roads curved around in confusing patterns, and the inside of the airport was so boring—there was hardly anywhere to sit, much less eat, as restaurants were few and far between. I pitied the poor travelers who got stuck with layovers here.
Finn shrugged. "Whatever. You wait here, or drive around, or whatever. I'll get Mom and Dad." We'd worked out a system to avoid paying for parking; whoever drove here would just continue to circle around slowly until our parents had gotten their luggage and were ready to head home.
"Don't let them see that giant ass hickey on your neck!" I teased.
He yanked the hood of his sweatshirt up and flipped me off as he stepped out of the car, scandalizing a mother who was standing with two young children near the vehicle behind us. I waved an apology to her as I drove off. She just glared at the back of my car. Whatever. Those kids had to learn how to properly use their middle fingers eventually.
On my second pass around the terminal, I spotted the familiar figures of my parents. Linda McMahon's bright blonde hair gleamed in the sunlight, and Steve McMahon's fiery red hair that Finn and I had both inherited stood out brightly against the dull concrete that lined the outside of the airport. Finn stood slightly behind them, hands in his pockets and hood still pulled up over his head to cover his neck.
My father waved eagerly as he spotted my car. I pulled up to the curb and stepped out to help them with their luggage, when I was enveloped in a large hug. "Hi, Abby! We've missed you kids."
"Dad, you've been gone for a week," I said, laughing as I pulled away. "What are you going to do when Finn and I are off at college next year?" I grabbed my mom's suitcase and she smiled gratefully.
"Oh, don't remind me. Sure it's not too late for homeschool?" He pulled open the door to the trunk as I set the brightly patterned suitcase down inside. "Finn, come help your sister with the luggage! And take that hood off your head, it's almost ninety degrees outside."
I smiled evilly at him. "Yeah, Finn, why are you wearing a hoodie in this weather?"
He gritted his teeth but plastered a smile on his face, taking my dad's bags as he left the gray hood planted firmly on his head. "That's none of your business."
Once the car was loaded up, my parents settled in the backseat, leaving Finn and I up front. As I drove down the highway, they asked what we'd been up to while we were gone, with Finn lying straight through his teeth and glaring at me as I tried to hold in my laughter, which somehow escaped the notice of both of our parents. We, in turn, asked how California had been, which started my mom on a whole tirade about how entitled some people felt just because they were rich and used to getting their way.
I pulled into the garage as she finished ranting about some upstart celebrity who had asked to be seated on opening night of their brand spankin' new restaurant. "—and he had the nerve to say, 'Do you know who I am?' and I was like, 'No, but what I do know is that you're not taking the place of someone who's had a reservation for months, no matter how famous you say you are or how much money you have!'"
Finn snickered. "Yeah, you tell him, Mom."
My dad pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "It was amazing. I wish I'd taken a video of the kid's face, but I also didn't want to deal with fifteen different lawsuits."
"Sounds like he deserved it," I said. "Who was the kid?"
Mom shrugged. "Some new pop star. Nick something?"
"Never heard of him." I hopped out of the car and opened the trunk, letting Finn and my dad take care of unloading the suitcases. "Anyway, good to have you back, but I've got a lot of homework to finish. See you guys later!"
————
Finn turned to grab his mom's suitcase as Abby darted upstairs. He was sweating under the thick fabric of his hoodie, but he didn't dare risk taking the hood off in his parents' presence.
His dad clapped him on the shoulder. "When's your first game of the season?"
"Next week," he grunted, lifting the purple floral bag out of the car. "Saturday morning."
"How's the team looking this year?"
Finn gave him a strange look. "Good, I guess? You already know everyone on the team, it's the same as last year."
"Glad to hear it," his dad said, picking up the last suitcase. "Well, your mom and I will be there, but since we don't want to drive you to practice this week or make Abby take you, we're letting you drive yourself around."
He started to grin, but his mom cut his celebration short. "You're still grounded, and we expect you to go nowhere other than school, practice, and home, okay?"
"Fine," he mumbled. "Can I have the keys back?"
His dad nodded and pulled a keyring out of one of his pockets. Finn felt his spirits lift slightly as the familiar weight settled in his hand, and he glanced at the car parked next to the red Jeep, his trusty Honda Accord that their parents had given him as a hand-me-down when they upgraded. He'd gotten the sedan because Abby had insisted that she wanted a Jeep, but hey, he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Finn breathed a sigh of relief when all the bags were inside the air conditioning of their house. "I'll be in my room if you need me," he called, eagerly yanking the sweatshirt off as he bounded up the stairs to his room.
He glanced at the mirror in his bathroom and winced. Of course, Abby hadn't bothered to tell him that his shirt was inside out this whole time. He quickly fixed the issue and peered at his reflection again, taking in the discoloration of the giant hickey that stood in dark contrast to his pale skin. How was he going to hide this from his parents?
Well, he did have a sister who owned copious amounts of makeup. Finn walked across the hall and knocked on Abby's door, which had a KEEP OUT sign with several exclamation marks taped to it.
"What do you want?" she called through the door.
He opened it and walked in, ignoring the sign. "I need to borrow some makeup. Foundation, or concealer, or whatever the fuck it's called."
Abby scoffed, still typing away on her computer without turning around. "What, for that monstrosity on your neck? Is Eden a fucking vampire or something?"
He grinned as he thought about last night. "She definitely knows how to use her mouth."
She gave him a disgusted look. "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that."
"So, can I borrow your makeup or not?" he asked again.
His sister groaned in annoyance but got up and began rummaging through her vanity, peering at its contents through her reading glasses. "Fine, but only the drugstore stuff. Makeup isn't cheap, you know." She straightened and tossed him a tube of near-white liquid. "There you go. Now get out and let me get back to work!"
He shut the door behind her as she sat back down at her desk and resumed her furious typing pace. Shaking his head as he returned to his own room, he glanced at the little tube in mild confusion. He had no idea how to use this. He considered looking up a tutorial on YouTube but tamped down the temptation. It really couldn't have been that difficult of a task, right?
Finn unscrewed the lid and pulled out the brush-looking tool attached to it. He tilted his head back and swiped it experimentally across the blemish on his neck, flinching slightly as the cold liquid touched his skin. He examined the white line critically in the mirror and deemed it satisfactory to continue.
As he brought the brush up to his skin to cover the rest of the area, Abby burst into his room. She marched up to him and snatched the tool out of his hand.
"Hey!" he protested.
"You're hopeless," she sighed, patting the skin around his smeared makeup with a finger. "I realized that letting you do this on your own was probably a terrible idea. You would've gotten busted the second you got downstairs. What would you do without me?"
"I thought I was doing fine," he muttered sulkily. "I was just about to use it to cover the rest."
"Which is exactly the problem. That's not how concealer works." Abby stepped back a moment later. "Well, the hickey's covered, but so are your freckles, so... just don't let Mom and Dad look too closely at your neck." She capped her makeup tube and took it back as she left his room.
"Thank you!" he called after her. She grunted in acknowledgment as she disappeared behind the KEEP OUT sign.
He exhaled slowly as he sat down at his desk and stared at the pile of homework he had yet to touch. He'd only chosen to take a couple of AP classes, and yet the homework from his teachers for the first week of school was staggering. On top of that, their soccer team practiced four nights a week, so he really needed to get started on these assignments if he didn't want to start off the school year behind.
Two and a half hours later, he was just finishing up an essay for AP government when his mother's voice drifted upstairs. "Dinner's ready!"
He shut his laptop immediately, thankful for the distraction from debating whether or not the electoral college should be abolished. Abby came out of her room at the same time he did, and the two of them jostled each other as they rushed down the stairs.
The mouthwatering aroma of Papa John's pizza greeted them as they entered the kitchen. Three large boxes were stacked on the counter. Their parents were sitting at the dining room table, paper plates and slices of pizza already in hand.
Finn opened the top box of pizza and immediately pushed it away in disgust. "Hawaiian? No thanks."
Abby grabbed a plate and a slice from the box he'd just discarded. "Don't hate just because your taste buds aren't sophisticated enough for the glory that is Hawaiian pizza."
He just shook his head as he looked in the next box, which thankfully contained pepperoni, a much more acceptable pizza topping. After loading his plate with food, the two of them joined their parents at the oval table, careful not to get any grease on the pristine white tablecloth.
"No home cooking tonight?" Abby asked through a mouthful of food.
Their dad shook his head. "We've been cooking all week. This is a nice break."
"Well, I'm not complaining," Finn said as he polished off his first slice. He wiped his fingers with a napkin and scratched his neck absentmindedly. "How's that AP government essay coming, Abby?"
"I finished it yesterday," she said. "Trying to stay on top of my schoolwork this year."
Their mom beamed at her. "I'm so proud of you. Both of you," she amended, as Finn mock-frowned. "Right, Steve?"
"Sure," Steve said slowly. Finn glanced at him, only to find his dad looking at him strangely. "Finn, what's that on your neck?"
He froze mid-bite. Fuck. Swallowing the half-chewed pizza, he cast around desperately for ideas. "Uh, what are you talking about?"
Beside him, Abby was trying very hard to keep an indifferent air about her, but he could practically hear the panic alarms blaring in her head.
Linda McMahon leaned in toward her son. "Is that a bruise? Is that concealer?" Realization washed over her face at the same time their dad started talking.
"Finnegan Jack McMahon," he began slowly. "Where did you get that hickey?"