Page 10 of See You in Your Dreams

He shrugs, trying for a hesitant smile. “I kinda got distracted. But it’s the thought that counts, right?”

Sighing, I scrub a hand over my eyes. “Just promise me you won’t do anything like this again. Mom trusts you to be on your own this year, but if you can’t act responsibly, I’ll have to stay here to babysit you.”

The thought of being stuck here every day after school more than I already am, of giving up my vet internship before it even really begins, makes me want to puke. But protecting my hyperactive brother—even if it’s from himself—comes first.

Patrick sets his jaw. “I was only trying to help.”

He looks so forlorn, I can’t help but give him a weary grin. “I know you were, Pat. And I appreciate the thought—really. But how about you leave the cooking to me for now, okay?”

“Okay,” he says, bowing his head dejectedly.

I ruffle his hair, earning an indignant squawk. “If you want to help, how about we clean this mess up? Then, I can show you how to cook…um…”

I glance uncertainly at the burnt dish, and he grimaces. “It was supposed to be chicken parmesan with spaghetti and marinara.”

Good God, that had once been chicken? How long did he overcook it?

“Right.” I clear my throat, disguising my laugh as a cough when Patrick glares at me. “Chicken parmesan it is.”

True to his word, Patrick throws himself enthusiastically into cleaning up the kitchen, and while he’s not much better at cleaning than he is cooking, at least it’s harder for him to burn the house down while doing it.

It doesn’t take him long to recover from his mishap. Soon enough, he’s back to his usual chatty self, filling me in on the latest in his first week of seventh grade, from his favorite class (Social Studies) to how his first soccer practice of the year went (his coach says he’s got potential so long as he stays focused—a perpetual challenge for him).

When we’re done, he convinces me after a suitable amount of groveling to take a break for someSuper Smash Bros.on our beat-up GameCube. We’d gotten it secondhand at a flea market along with a few games, and though it’s horribly outdated, it was also a hell of a lot cheaper than a new game console would’ve been.

Having only a handful of games to choose from also means that both me and Patrick are experts by now, as well as fairly evenly matched. I lose myself in our impromptu competition more than I should, and all too soon, the door from the garage slams shut.

Shit, Tommy’s home. What time is it?

I ignore Patrick’s cries of victory as he KOs me off the edge of the screen and check my phone, wincing when I see it’s almost nine. I’d meant to have dinner ready an hour ago.

I scramble off the couch and head for the kitchen, but I’m too late. By the time I get there, Tommy’s already scowling beside the stove. He’s four years my senior, and though we sharethe same sandy hair, hazel eyes, and delicate cheekbones, his bulging muscles put my scrawny frame to shame.

“Hey, Tommy,” I say, my stomach churning. “I was just about to get started on—”

“What the hell happened in here?” His eyes flick over the counter and stove. My heart sinks when I spy a few spots Patrick and I had missed. Of course, even if we hadn’t missed anything the pile of dishes in the sink would be a dead giveaway.

“Just a minor cooking mishap,” I say.

He shrugs off his dirt-stained coat onto the back of a chair. “I thought queers were supposed to be good in the kitchen.”

I bite back my annoyance at the bits of gravel that fall onto the recently cleaned tile, trying not to let his words bother me.

“It wasn’t me. Patrick got it into his head to cook dinner tonight.”

I realize it was the wrong thing to say the instant I see Tommy’s face darken. “And youlethim? For fuck’s sake, Dylan, he’stwelve!”

“I didn’tlethim do anything! He did it on his own while I was at work.”

My own temper rises despite my best efforts to hold it back. Yelling at Tommy never helps—all getting angry will do is escalate the situation.

Sure enough, my older brother looks ready to punch someone. “Work—right. You mean that place you go so you can play at being a vet?”

“I’m notplayingat anything! My internship is a great opportunity to learn from Dr. Jenkins.”

Tommy snorts derisively. “More like a great opportunity to waste your time. If you’re going to abandon Patrick, you could at least do something that’ll help this family instead of being selfish. But hey, your own shit’s more important, right? Whocares what happens to the rest of us so long as perfect little Dylan gets to live his perfect gay life. God, no wonder Dad left us.”

Shaking his head, Tommy shoves past me and slams the door to the bathroom behind him. A few seconds later, I hear the shower kick on. Still, I don’t move from the middle of the kitchen, my chest tightening as a sense of numbness creeps over me.