The Guest by Cathryn Grant

Author:Cathryn Grant [Grant, Cathryn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Inkubator Books
Published: 2020-05-30T16:00:00+00:00

20

Brandon pulled the cue stick back, bending his elbow in the form that Ace had taught him. The stick shot forward, glancing off the top of the white ball. The ball rolled six inches and stopped.

“Shit.”

“Brandon!” Seth’s voice was too loud, sending a shock down my spine.

I gave Seth a look that should have carried a warning, but even though he was looking at me, he didn’t react. We’d discussed many times that Brandon responded to firm guidance, but not to shouting or sarcasm. Now that he was a teenager, it was even more important to show respect to him, to not let disagreements turn into shouting matches. Yet those were not the tactics Seth preferred when he deemed Brandon’s behavior defiant.

“No worries,” Ace said. “You can take the shot again.”

“This is a game, not a classroom.” Seth’s voice was still too loud, and I felt myself cringe.

“Yup. And we aren’t betting, so offering another shot to a kid who’s fourteen, when we’re well past thirty, seems fair. It’s like a golf handicap.”

Seth glowered.

It was charitable of Ace to say we were well over thirty, since Seth had just celebrated his fortieth birthday.

“I don’t want another shot.” Brandon dropped his pool cue on the table. “I’m done.”

“Don’t be a sore loser,” Seth said.

“I’m not a sore loser ’cuz we’re not losing. We’re tied with you and Mom.”

“If you’re quitting, put the cue back where it belongs.”

Brandon’s expression had the look of despair. If I didn’t know better—that he would never cry in front of anyone—I would have thought the tears were ready to start flowing.

I picked up Brandon’s cue and turned away from the table.

“Don’t do that,” Seth said. “If he’s not playing, he needs to put the cue away, not throw a temper tantrum.”

I walked around the table to where Brandon was standing, his hands shoved in his back pockets. He looked past me, directing his attention to Seth. “It’s not a tantrum. In case you haven’t noticed, the police are hassling me about killing someone. But I guess you don’t get what it feels like to be wrongfully accused.”

“No one accused you of anything,” Seth said.

“They’re thinking it.”

“It’s not possible to know what another person is thinking, so try again,” Seth said.

“You did what you needed to,” Ace said. “You didn’t give them any room to twist your words or get you to say something that wasn’t one hundred percent true, so you’ll be fine.”

“They just…I don’t think they’re gonna put up with me not answering their questions.”

“They have to,” Ace said. “It’s in the Constitution.”

“It’s not fair they think I might have killed her. Jasmine was a bitch to lots of kids.”

“If you didn’t do it,” Seth said, “there’s nothing to worry about.” He leaned over the table, lined up his shot, and the cue bolted through the arch of his fingers, hitting the ball just below the center. The ball rolled across the table, hitting two striped balls. Neither one made it to a pocket.

His lips

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