Free Pretty Dark Nothing by Heather L. Reid Page A

to pick Josh up from school?”
    James Collier groaned and turned over on the couch. An empty bottle fell from his hand. “Turn the light out and leave me alone.” He pulled a pillow over his eyes. “And close the damn window. You know your mother hates the cold.”
    Aaron covered his father with a blanket and picked the bottle off the floor.
    “Guess that means I’m making dinner. Want some coffee?”
    His father groaned.
    “I’ll take that as a yes.”
    The small, bright kitchen was a drastic contrast to the stuffy, dust-filled living room. He opened the blue, retro refrigerator (retro being a euphemism for ancient), and rummaged through out-of-date milk, moldy cheese, and some leftovers that now looked like moss-covered wood.
    “Hey, Superman.” Josh, thin and lanky, appeared at the top of the stairs, his long, curly black hair hanging loose around his shoulders. He slid down the wobbling oak banister, sticking his landing with a thud. He raised his hands above his head, bowing and blowing kisses to an imaginary audience.
    “Five point five from the Russian judge,” Aaron said.
    “Oh, come on, I earned at least a six. Way better than your lame attempt this morning.”
    “How’d you hear about that?” Aaron placed the last filter in the coffee maker, adding two scoops of grounds from the canister on the counter.
    “You mean the Superman incident? That’s what Xander’s sister’s calling it. She witnessed every heroic moment. You’ll be getting a call from the commissioner any minute; I hear there’s a cat stuck in a tree over on Elm Street.” Josh swung one of the mismatched dining chairs around, sitting with his arms folded over the back.
    “Very funny.” Aaron put the lid back on the canister.
    “You’ll need to make it stronger than that. I found another empty bottle in the trash.”
    “Today’s their anniversary.” Aaron added another half-scoop and left it to brew.
    “I forgot. So?”
    “So, it’s been hard on him, raising us alone.”
    “Oh, come on. It’s been over three years. I’ve gotten over it. Why can’t he? What’s for dinner, anyway?”
    Aaron looked at him. “Have you?”
    “Have I what?”
    “Gotten over it?”
    Josh hung his head, hair falling over his eyes. “I’m thinking pizza.”
    Aaron watched his little brother. There was no denying they were related. Both resembled their mother: same green eyes, same full lips, long dark eyelashes, even the one dimple on their left cheek. Ruth had the same dimple too, but she had copper hair, not black like the boys. Ruth.
    The image of Ruth’s shining eyes disappearing into murky darkness was the only memory of that night he never had to fight to recall. That one stayed with him, etched forever in his mind. Aaron clapped his brother on the shoulder. “I miss them too, you know. But Dad’s still here. And me, I’m here.”
    “Like you were right after they died?” Josh kicked the empty chair next to him so hard it spun in a half circle before crashing sideways to the linoleum. “You ran out on us. You tried to follow them. I wish you would’ve succeeded.”
    “Keep it down! Your sister’s sleeping,” his dad called from the living room.
    “Man, eighth grade is hard enough without a drunk for a father and a psycho for a brother,” Josh mumbled.
    Aaron clenched his fists, counting to ten as rage swept over him. “Say what you want about me, but like it or not, he’s the only father we’ve got.”
    “Whatever. Can you take me over to Xander’s?”
    It amazed Aaron that Josh could go from cynical to casual as quickly as Hyde turning back into Jekyll.
    “Ask Dad.”
    “Like he’ll even notice I’m gone.”
    “Yes, I will.” James Collier pulled himself up over the edge of the couch and pointed a rough finger at them. “Nobody leaves the house tonight. We’ve got some celebrating to do.”
    Aaron poured the coffee into a mug and walked over to the couch. “Drink this. It’s strong, just the way you like