Coffee and Cigarettes

I sighed aloud as Bob stormed towards me, his eyes filled with fury. I glanced at Libby who gave me a look that read, Don't worry, you can handle it. My eyes returned to my approaching brother. The guys backed up a bit and veered to the side, not really wanting to take part in the growing conflict. Not that I blame them.

"Hey, Bob." I said casually, placing my hands in my pockets. "What's up?"

"Stop trying to be cute, Morgan," Bob said in a dangerously low voice. "What's your problem? Blair told me about how you were being so rude to her. She's your older sister, and whether you like it or not, you have to treat her with at least a little bit of respect!"

"And you have to stop kissing her ass," I muttered under my breath.

Bob's eyes narrowed and he stared me down. "What did you just say?" he questioned.

"Nothing," I replied in a surprisingly chirpy voice. "Now, if you want to get me into trouble with Mom and Dad, then you can go home and tattle on me. I'm not coming back until seven. Toodles," I said, waving him off.

I don't think I should've done that, because he didn't look very happy after I'd done it. He wasn't happy to begin with, but he looked even madder. "Don't you dare even attempt to patronize me, Morgan. I'm your older brother and you have to treat me with respect too. You need to learn your goddamn place."

"I have learned my 'goddamn' place, Bob. It's annoying the shit out of you and Blair." I said with a smirk. He rolled his eyes and furrowed his brow.

"You're coming home with me right now."

"Make me," I retorted.

Before I knew what was happening, his large hand grabbed my small wrist and twisted it as he tugged and practically dragged me for about five feet before the pain started shooting all the way up my arm.

"Bob, you're hurting me!" I practically screamed.

"You hurt Blair," he said calmly, not letting go. Libby ran up to us and tried to shove Bob over.

"What's your problem, Bob?" she raved. "You're hurting her! Let go, she'll go with you if you don't break her fucking wrist!"

I hadn't realized it, but Bob had continued to twist my wrist around and tears sprung up in my eyes. Not just because it hurt a hell of a lot, but because I never thought that my own brother would do something like this to me. It's just that when he's mad, he can get a bit...rambunctious.

Realizing what he was doing, Bob finally let go. I ripped my wrist out of his grasp and cradled it with my other hand. It was all red and already starting to swell. I glared at him through the mist of tears in my eyes and whispered, "I hate you."

Libby put her arms around my shoulder and we wandered back to the guys, leaving Bob standing there, his eyes downcast. I knew that he was sorry for what he did and that he didn't mean to be so rough...he would never purposely hurt me. I know he wouldn't.

Like I said, he was just mad. I guess I understand.

"I have to go to the doctor's," I muttered, staring at my now completely swollen wrist. "I have a feeling that he twisted it."

"Okay, I'll take you," Libby said, patting my back comfortingly. "It's not too far from here, we can walk."

"I'll come with you," Frank chimed in.

"So will we," Mikey added, gesturing to the rest of the boys. None of them seemed to be too intent on wanting to go to the hospital, but it was nice of them to come along anyway.

The hospital was twenty minutes away by foot, so we started to walk.

"Do you need me to carry you?" Frank asked politely.

"I can manage," I said with a small smile. "I didn't break my foot. It's just my wrist."

He shrugged. "Can't help but be a gentleman."

I laughed, probably blushing a little bit. "Thanks anyway."

We finally made it to the hospital, a few of the guys were still panting from the walk. A few meaning...Matt. We got to the front desk and the receptionist said, "How may I help you?"

"Something happened and her wrist is kind of messed up," Gerard replied. "We just need a doctor to take a quick look at it and maybe wrap it up."

The receptionist nodded. She caught the attention of a passing nurse and she led me to a small room with that bed-like thing that you sit on in order for the doctor to see what's wrong with you.

"So, your wrist is pretty swollen," she said, more to herself than to me. "I think it might just be twisted. I'll wrap it up in a bandage for you and you should be fine in a week or so. I don't suggest straining it or putting too much pressure on it for a while, though."

I nodded. "Thanks, nurse."

She wrapped up my wrist and sent me off. I was reunited with my friends in less than fifteen minutes.

"Let's go," Libby said. "Do you want to stay at my house to get away from the B Squad again, or...?"

I shook my head sadly. "No, I have to go home. It wouldn't be fair to my parents. I'll just avoid Bob and Blair at all costs." I turned to the guys. "Sorry for kind of ruining your day. Maybe the next time we hang out, my siblings won't try to murder me."

Ray chuckled. "Don't worry about it, kid."

"Yeah," Mikey said with a smile. "It's not your fault. Just swing my the coffee shop soon and we can make some other plans."

"Definitely," Libby and I said in unison. We said our goodbyes and left.

Libby walked me all the way to my house and gave me a huge hug. "Bye," she said, letting me go. "Good luck."

"Yeah, bye," I replied quietly, turning to my front door. I took in a deep breath, turned the knob, and slowly entered my front foyer.

"Hi, honey," my mom called to me when she noticed that I was home. Clearly, neither Blair nor Bob told her what happened. Fine with me. "Are you hungry? We're making spaghetti for dinner."

"Can I eat it in my room?" I asked politely. "I kind of want to be alone today."

"Uh, I guess that's alright," she shrugged. "I'll bring it to your room. Change into your pajamas or something, you'll ruin your street clothes."

Nodding, I went upstairs to my room. I had to pass my brother's room in order to get there, and he was waiting at the door for me.

"Listen, Morgan...I'm really sorry...you know that I would never hurt you on purpose..." he started.

"Save it," I growled. "I don't care."

I pushed past him and went to my room. I closed and locked the door behind me, changing into my pajamas and lying face down on my bed.

I think I ended up falling asleep, because I was awakened by my mother knocking on my door saying, "Morgan, honey, I have your spaghetti!"