I'm Keeping the Kitten

“Vrach hochet, chtoby vy delatʹprobnyĭ pusk i posmotretʹ, kak vy bez nih.” My heart beat leapt up to a higher pace.

“YA ne dumayu, chto ya gotov k etomu.” The very mention sent tingling sensations into my stomach that soon became painful like thousands of pinpricks shooting into my abdomen.

Her voice was soothing in response to my anxious, trembling one. “Vot pochemu eto vsego lishʹispytanie , chtoby posmotretʹ, gotovy li Vy ili net.”

“No ya uzhe polozhitelʹnyĭ , ya ne , tak v chem zhe delo?” I protested.

“Nika , ne slozhnaya. Kak ya uzhe skazal , eto vsego lishʹispytanie , nichto ne obyazatelʹno na postoyannoĭ osnove . Otklyuchitʹ v techenie neskolʹkih dnyeĭ i posmotrim, kak vy sebya chuvstvuete.”

“Prekrasno.”

We exchanged goodbyes and hung up, me biting my lip trying not to hate my doctor. I pulled the bottle of Centrax out of my bag and wrapped it in so much duct tape it was impossible to tell what it was. Then, I shoved the bottle deep beneath my mattress and went to hide the scissors. On my way down to the kitchen, I caught sight of Gallagher and my replacement Faraday.

“Nikolai!” He called when I came back out with four pairs of scissors. “Firstly, what the hell are you doing?”

“Hiding these.”

“Why?”

So I can’t rip that bottle open and overdose “Um . . . no reason, really.” I knew he didn’t believe me, but he didn’t press it.

“Secondly, I’m having a party tonight and Dad is making me invite you. If you don’t come—”

“ Vy budete v vostorge, ya znayu..” I muttered to myself, barely audible, missing the last bit of Gallagher’s words as I darted up the stairs, though not in enough time to miss Faraday making a snide remark about me. My door slammed shut and I pressed my back to it, looking up at my ceiling and the glow-in-the-dark stars and planets Gallagher had gotten for me and the aurora borealis we’d painted on the wall. I closed my eyes and looked at the scissors in my hands, groaning and going back out of my room, leaving them in Gallagher’s bedroom without note or explanation. Let Faraday think me bizarre.

The familiar mews of Canny-poo and Pooka filled my ears as the kittens bounded up to me, rubbing their furry heads against my pasty, skinny ankles. This was them reminding me I had medication to take, but how could I explain to them that Mommy I couldn’t? There was no way, so I led them back to my room to act like I was doing what they were telling me to.

Instead, I got ready for the party, pulling on my favorite SHINee tank-top and a pair of jeans that Mahi had cut at the knee and dubbed “cut-offs” and looked painted on to my skin. With the utmost care, I arranged my hair so that it fell down straight as a board but with life and volume to it, the newly added russet-color glinting in the light. For the final touches I added a silk, ivory ribbon, tying it in a neat bow and hanging a silver heart around my neck, brushing a bit of eyeliner across my upper-lid and deeming myself acceptable.

If I had to be around Gallagher’s friends—and Gallagher himself—I figured I might as well put on a smile and look close to my best. Normally I would invite Tyki or Mahi, but after learning everything Tyki did, I was a bit upset with him, even knowing it was for my sake. His heart was in the right place, but I couldn’t say I was completely innocent in the matter though he continued to insist I was doing what was right, even though no one else would believe I had done what I did for the best, with only the best intentions, trying my best to spare our hearts from the inevitable hurt. And as far as Mahi went, I didn’t want to make my brother angry by inviting either of the twins, so I figured I would survive one night without my crutches and try to at least be amiable. Most people had a difficult time understanding me through the language barrier and my accent so holding conversation was hard, but if I was at least friendly that should be enough. Then Gallagher couldn’t be mad that I’d made a bad impression (I had never mingled at a party, so though it wouldn’t be my first, it might as well have been).

Trying not to second-guess myself when I heard the music start up, I went downstairs immediately and moved onto the beach, trying not to gravitate toward my favorite palm tree to hide under, though that would be more or less impossible considering someone was standing beneath it.

For the first half of the party, I lurked around the edges of the group, smiling whenever someone looked at me and saying hello when someone said hello to me. The group was different from the one I was used to seeing around my brother, mostly filled with flamboyant, laughing male models. Despite the change, it seemed he was no less popular and the group hadn’t shrunk though faces had changed. I really hoped that wasn’t Tyki’s doing.

I nursed a glass of soda so I had something to keep my hands occupied and I didn’t fidget too much, focusing on the cold radiating from it every time my thoughts or eyes even mildly moved to Gallagher and Faraday, who were practically attached at the hip or lips the entire time, I knew I had no right to be jealous. Every time my brother’s boyfriend . . . person, looked at me, his face screwed into a glower and by the time it was ten I had retreated to the exact place I had been so determined not to go.

Only to find the same person there.

He was tall, his hair a deep mahogany held back in a short ponytail that just barely caught all the strands, though some still fell and curved around his pierced ears. A sleeve of tattoos was visible on his bare arm, though the dimness made it difficult to tell exactly what the images were. He was tanned but in the way Gallagher was and not the way Tyki was and his pale gray eyes stood out, staring down at me with amusement in their depths. He smiled and revealed a mouth full of braces with bright blue bands that seemed wholly out of place in his otherwise strong, square-jawed face. I couldn’t help but smile back and introduce myself.

“So you’re Nikolai, I’d been wondering. It’s great to finally meet you. I’m Turner.”

“Nice to meet you, Turner.”

“And you.” It was easy enough striking up a conversation with Turner. Despite his gruff exterior he was actually rather easygoing and silly, the type of guy that would do anything to make you laugh. I could already tell we would get along famously. He did spot-on impressions of celebrities and people we knew alike, even daring to do ones of Gallagher and Mahi that made me lean on the tree for support from giggling too hard. He made me laugh until I cried and had to bury my face in my hands to keep the tears of mirth from ruining the bit of makeup I’d worn.

At some point I felt eyes on us and saw none other than my half-brother shooting daggers at us, though I couldn’t understand why. His eyes were mostly fixed on Turner and I wondered if they knew each other and had some sort of unfavorable history, which I eventually got up the nerve to ask. Turner merely laughed and flung an arm around my shoulders, holding me close to his warm body.

“Nah, we actually get along pretty well generally. He’s probably just mad because he thinks I’m trying to pick you up on the rebound.”

“What?”

“My girlfriend and I just broke up so he probably thinks I’m trying to get with you now. Don’t worry, I’m not. No offense to you, though I think my brother would fall in love with you on the spot. Antagonizing him is just too hilarious to pass up.” I shrugged and nodded, not really sure what he was talking about but deciding I would probably be more confused if I asked him to explain. For the duration of our conversation, Turner kept his arm casually around my shoulders and tickled me randomly, saying I looked “downright adorable” when I squirmed, which made me blush. I talked about Timcanpy and Pooka ad nauseum and dance and we shared favorite works of literature and video games.

We would be wonderful friends, I could already tell.