Scar Patterson

“Get your fat ass off my bed!” I nearly yelled at the top of my lungs as soon as I stepped into my bedroom to find my sister sitting at the edge of my bed. This surely wasn’t the first time she had done something of this nature, even when I had clear ‘Keep Out’ signs posted on my door for her and our mother to follow. “You honestly can’t just keep invading my privacy like this!”

My little sister, Amy, merely shrugged her shoulders in complete nonchalance and fell back onto my mattress with a bright pink paper clutched tightly in her hands, causing the bed to dip. “What privacy? We all know you jerk off. It’s not a big deal.”

“And Mom just made my bed, and you’re … you’re messing it up!”

She removed her gaze from the paper and rolled her eyes. “Teaches you not to make your own bed,” she commented with a disapproving click of her tongue.

Returning the eye roll, I stood my ground. “Well, you know what? I like the way Mom does it. She does it with love.”

“How old are you, again? Seventeen?”

“Hah, funny,” I retorted with a bitter tone.

Silence settled between us; Amy still hadn’t moved, and it didn’t look like she was planning to, either. Her attention shifted to raising a single red licorice to her lips and avidly studying the neon paper in her hands.

I kept a trained eye on her as my gaze narrowed on the pack of Twizzlers lying in her lap. “Why don't you go for a walk, or something? The more you sit here and eat like a damn pig, the fatter you get,” I barked at her. Although it might have sounded insensitive, it was the ugly truth. Amy was fifty pounds heavier than normal girls her age, and I took every opportunity to point it out if it meant she would stop going through my stuff and embarrassing me in public. Despite the fact that I was two years older than her, Amy thought that we were suddenly obligated to be “best friends” just because we now attended the same high school. 

She sat up abruptly in my bed and curled her full lips into a slight pout. “You didn't have to say that, Scar,” she mumbled under her breath.

My patience was quickly running thin. “Why are you still here!”

Amy shook her head in disbelief as she heaved herself off the bed and trudged to the exit with her big brown curls bouncing with each monstrous step. She slammed the door shut, letting the door frame rattle.

“Damn freshman,” I muttered to myself before I retrieved my phone from my back pocket to resume the conversation I was having before Amy decided to piss me off. “Sorry about that, man. Amy was at it, again.”

The obnoxiously loud laugh of my best friend, Trey, echoed through my ears. “Nah, dude, you gotta stop making those jokes about your sister. Obesity is like a real issue.”

I plopped down on the edge of my bed and took a long sip of my beer. “She's my sister. It's my job to make fun of her. Pretty sure if you had one, you’d make of her, too.”

“Guess it’s good that I don’t, right? Besides, Amy is like my little sister, too.” Another loud cackle. “Anyway, dude, did you get Coach's text about the team trip?”

I absentmindedly picked at my nails as I recalled the information regarding our end of the year trip to Myrtle Beach. “Yeah, I mean, it sounds cool, but we gotta find a way to pay for the trip ourselves. I barely got money for gas.”

Trey let out a low, teasing chuckle. “That's because you spend all your money on Francesca!” he pointed out. “She gives a whole new meaning to shop 'til you drop.”

I couldn't help but laugh as I stretched myself out on the bed. “Keeping Francesca happy also means keeping my dick happy, so you can kindly take your rude remarks somewhere else.”

“All right, all right,” Trey gave in, still chuckling as he did so. “So how are we gonna raise that money? Couldn't we do one of those car wash things?”

“We?” I questioned. “Dude, your family is fucking rich. Just ask them for a couple thousand dollars. I’m sure it’d be no problem.”

I heard a long sigh on the other end. “You know my folks don’t believe in that. They want me to earn my money, not inherit it.”

“But at the end of the day,” I inserted, “your parents are going to pay for all four years of your college tuition, while I have to find a way to get this scholarship.”

“Come on, you know it’s practically yours,” he mused. “I know it. Coach knows it. The team knows it. You’re the best linebacker in the state and Notre Dame will be more than lucky to have you play for them.”

I felt my heart swell with emotion. Trey was always good with words and making someone feel better, which was one of the reasons why he was my best friend; that, and he made a mean grilled cheese sandwich.

I cleared my throat to change the subject. “Okay, but how are we gonna pay for the trip, then? We don’t have a job, and my monthly allowance is only enough for car repairs.”

A moment of silence passed by before he responded with, “Dunno. I got nothin’.”

Sighing in frustration, I let my eyes wander the room and paused when they caught sight of the neon colored flyer that Amy must have left on my bed. I balled my hands into fists with just the thought of my sister invading my privacy, but my muscles softened when I remembered what the flyer was advertising.

“Hey, this week is Carnival Week, isn't it?” I asked him.

He was hesitant. “Yes?”

I raked a hand through my honey brown hair as a smile crept onto my face. “And there'll be lots of carnival games and shit there, correct?”

“Yeah?”

“And there’ll be plenty of girls from school there, too, right?”

There was a brief moment of silence. “Where you goin' with this, bro?”

My lips curled into a full-on grin. “We're going to host a kissing booth, Trey. Just imagine a line of cute little babes waiting to make out with me. Tell me where we’ll get another chance like this.”

“You mean I'm going to have a line of cute little babes waiting to make out with me because you have a girlfriend,” he felt the need to comment. 

I rolled my eyes. “It's an open-relationship, Trey. Besides, it's for a good cause, isn't it?”

“Whatever, man, but you can't be the only one gettin' to do the kissing.”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course not. We can have a rotating schedule, or something. Just text the team and tell them to meet up at my place. We have tons of planning to do.”

Even though I couldn't see him, I knew he was smiling. “Already on it.”