Tabby

To say I had let myself be kicked off to the side once again would have been a lie. Obviously, this time my wishes had been taken into consideration, and by none other than what seemed to be the leader of my brother's little group. It wasn't anything new, my brother torturing some kid, but the whole "initiation" deal definitely was. Since when did they let someone else hang out with them? Why that shrimpy little boy, and not me?

Though the exclusion bothered me a little, what really puzzled me was why Lance, or whatever his name was, decided to put the flaming kid out. He didn't seem like that type, but what did I know? I was just the little girl, the baby sister of a jack ass that thought it was amusing to put a person's life in danger by setting them on fire. I hated that I felt bad for him, because honestly, who fucking let someone do that, just so they could be treated like shit by Corey on a daily basis? Was that the prize for torture? Because I'd rather have been burned to death, than be forced to put up with my brother's shit.

"Tabitha, you were supposed to be in the house an hour ago to set the table," someone said from behind me. I turned around from my spot on the porch swing that I'd taken up again as soon as the boys had left, my eyes landing on my mother's thin form in the doorway. She looked tired, worn down, like someone had shaken her up in a jar for days without air and she'd just managed to find a way out. I never argued with my mother. She'd done far too much for me, I respected her more than anyone in the world, and she shouldn't have had to ask me twice to do something.

I nodded, watching her dim answering smile spread across her face as I stood and went around her into the house, the cool smell of the fall air outside drifting away from me. It was getting colder as this month wore on, and I was forever wishing winter would hurry up and get here. I hated not knowing if I'd be hot in the morning or cold in the evening when I got ready for school. I never complained, though.

"You have any idea where your brother might be, Tabitha?" Looking up from the silverware in my hand, I debated on whether or not to tell my mother exactly what Corey and his friends had been up to this evening. She'd ground him, no doubt. What an embarrassment that would have been, I would have killed to hear his buddy's little snide remarks.

But because of his slightly vicious wrath, I held off on the tattling. "He's out at the park again," I said, making sure my voice was bright and clear so my mother wouldn't suspect anything. She should have known where he was. He only lived and breathed skating on anything, anywhere.

"He spends too much time there."

"I know."

"You never go there, do you?" I looked up in surprise as her words registered, shaking my head in confusion. It was a known fact in this household, or even in the neighborhood, for that matter. Tabitha Brummer wasn't a tomboy. She was scared of her brother and his creepy friends. Or at least, that's what my parents believed.

"Why not? You should try something new, something besides ballet."

"I like ballet, Mom. It's my life. Besides, skateboards are dangerous anyway," I mumbled, feeling my hands tighten around the knives and spoons I was holding. I didn't mean to be tense, but I hated it when she questioned me. She did it as a test, just to see if I was thinking about quitting anytime soon. She knew I wasn't. I could never give up dancing.

"Yeah, you're right. I wish Corey would stay off of them." Mom crossed her arms as she turned away from the stove, her eyes wandering to the clock over the doorway. I knew she was wondering when he'd show up. I already knew he wouldn't. Dad didn't really care unless it was report card day, then he'd hunt him down himself.

After I'd finished setting the table, Mom sat down like usual, realizing Corey wouldn't show up. I knew he was a new druggie, and that his being high was probably what kept him from showing up, but I never said a word. Just because I never told on him, I knew I didn't hate my brother. My parents were already so disappointed in him, who was I to make it worse?

Dinner came and went, and so did my mother's smile. I knew she loved Corey just the same as she loved me, but sometimes I felt like he was a bigger burden on her shoulders than a special weight on her scale. Dad was barely ever here to give her any comfort, so the problem fell on me, and I never knew what to say to make it better. Once again, I failed at a life skill: reassurance.

When 11:00 rolled around and Corey still hadn't come home, of course my mother started to get more pissed than worried. She usually went to bed at 10, but because tonight was Friday, she had to be irrational and ask questions. I had not one idea why she couldn't just accept the fact that it was Saturday tomorrow, he had nowhere else to be anyways.

"Did he do anything different today, Tabitha?" Set a boy's shirt on fire. Nothing out of the ordinary.

"What about his school work? Does he have any tonight?" Like he'd do it if he did.

"Do you know if he gave a time he'd be home?" Mom shot all of these and more at me as the night wore on, and after the 32nd question, I threw my homework back into my bag and pulled on a jacket. I hated having to do this, but like everything else, I'd get over it. Mom always worried over everything much longer than she had to.

It was rather cold outside when my feet hit the hard asphalt in the street. The neighborhood was still brightly lit from people's windows, eerie shadows thrown across their lawns to cast different patterns and shapes in the grass. Things like this made me realize just how much the world outside intimidated me.

I'd made up my mind that I was going to go and have a little chat with my brother about the whole "staying out too late" thing, but now that I was in the dark, all alone, I was starting to rethink it. People got killed every day. Someone could kidnap me. I could be raped and cut into tiny little pieces like that one girl on that movie...

I shook the horrid thoughts out of my head as I reached the woods, pulling my hood up and taking a deep breath as I ventured through them. I should have brought a flashlight, I realized, but it was too late now. This was the quickest way to the park, to my brother, to making my mother calm down. I had to do it.

Seven minutes into the thick of the trees, I could see lights, hear loud voices and drunken laughs. I knew the place was a madhouse on Fridays, but I also knew no one ever messed with my brother and his little gang of friends, so their day to day activity was always the same. They never worried about someone taking their spot. I could tell from Lance's obvious intimidation that no one ever would.

"Oh, shit, are you fucking serious? Jake, you just ran over my soda!" I breathed a tiny sigh of relief as I recognized the small plea from the boy that had recently almost been burned to death in front of my house. I bit my lip silently as I leaned against a tree, watching in the dark.

I'd been here before to get my brother. This wasn't new. I knew where they usually hung out, I knew who snuck the weed in, I even knew which one of them had nearly torn his face off two years ago in a bike accident, for I'd witnessed it. Not that Corey knew any of this. He looked relaxed as he leaned back on a rail, his board beneath his feet and a beer in his other hand as he laughed at Jake's lame excuse. I felt a wave of shame wash over me; I was related to this piece of shit.

"God, I wish Lance had just shut his mouth so we could have handled you our way!" I wasn't quite sure what "our way" meant, but it didn't sound good. I didn't recognize the person yelling at Jake from behind, and I leaned forward a bit.

"Man, you know Lance won't do shit in front of Brummer's kid sister!" I perked up a bit at the mention of myself, but just as quickly my ego was deflated. Kid? I wasn't a kid. I gritted my teeth as I listened closely, waiting for someone else's input.

"Damn right I won't. Never know what she'll go and tell their parents. Corey might get grounded," someone yelled, howling in laughter. I recognized this voice to be Lance's, and I narrowed my eyes, fighting the urge to step out into their line of vision. I never told on Corey, they knew that.

"Aw, shutup, Lance." This came from my brother, who was now most likely on the verge of collapsing. I wanted to just leave him right then, but I couldn't. It also wasn't acceptable for me to just walk out there like I owned the place, because he sure as hell wouldn't come home with me in this state.

"What? You know it's true. How old is she, like, 15 or something? She's still a baby!"

"She's 16, moron. Have you not seen her chest, man? Baby my ass!"

"Dude, is Corey awake?" Steven jumped up and walked over to my brother, bending over and laughing when his board slipped out from under him. I couldn't bother to even snicker at his fall though, as I replayed the words over and over in my head. How could he let them say this? How could he let his friends trash talk his own sister?

I stomped out of the trees, throwing limbs out of my way as I started towards the bench Lance was sitting on. Corey's jacket was thrown across the back of it and I snatched it up, ignoring the startled cries of Lance as everyone noticed me.

"Whoa! Speak of the Devil! Where the fuck you come from?" I knelt down beside Corey, ignoring Steven's apologetic look as he helped me pull him up, balancing Corey's board under his free arm.

"Sorry about this, Tabs," he mumbled, nodding towards the guys. I said nothing.

"Dude...did she hear all of that?" Lance's attempted whisper was incredibly loud and I whipped my head around, my eyes burning as I held back unwanted tears. His met mine and the small grin he held on his face dimmed slightly, or at least I thought it did. I couldn't tell.

"Yes, I heard it, you asshole," I snapped, feeling Corey's dead weight on my shoulders as Steven helped yank his jacket on. Lance stood, a sickly smirk replacing his goofy grin as he walked over to where we were standing. I wanted to spit in his face.

"Well, you know. They're just stupid. I know how old you are," he said quietly, the sarcasm dripping like venom in his words. I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah, I bet you do, pedophile," I said, still seething, as Steven slapped Corey's face lightly in an attempt to get him to wake up long enough to walk home. I bit my lip, searching the ground for some kind of answer. This wouldn't look good to Mom.

Lance spoke up, yet again. "Hey, just go on without him. He'll stay with one of us tonight."

"Not me, I'm not cleaning up his puke again!" A blonde haired boy flicked cigarette ash towards us and I swallowed back the bile in my throat, nodding over at the bench Lance had been sitting on. I knew he'd end up with Steven, and while he'd been an ass to me earlier that day, he'd still take care of Corey.

He touched my arm. "Just go, Tabitha. I'll get him home tomorrow morning. Tell your mom he's with me, alright? Go on." I nodded without saying another word, starting up the concrete steps and towards the trees without a single glance back at the drunken pile of boys.

I was sick of cleaning up after my brother, and not just his vomit, but his life.