Page 70 of Boys Who Hunt
If she wasn’t already fragile enough, I would’ve thrown her halfway across the room.
“We’re here now, aren’t we?” I say, folding my arms.
Mom stares at me, incensed. “True, but that doesn’t excuse—”
“Who wants to make the biggest fucking pyre in the yard this world has ever seen?” Dylan, my mom’s other boyfriend, yells as he walks into the kitchen through the back door in the kitchen, wearing only flip-flops and a pair of Havana shorts, oblivious to her rage.
Mom merely stands there, flabbergasted he’d even try to upend her.
“Me!” Aspen quickly yells, bolting to the door.
Right as she passes Dylan, he pats her on the back. “That’s my girl.”
“Really, Dylan? Fucking really?” My mom’s eyebrows begin to twitch.
“What?” Dylan shrugs. “I bought all this wood. It would be a shame if we didn’t use it.”
“Dylan…” Penelope grits, seething.
“Me too,” Mavis swiftly says, rushing to the back door.
“And me,” Xavier replies.
“I’m in too,” I say, definitely feeling the heat.
I didn’t just get my temper from my dad, who’s already out in the yard gathering the logs.
Melody tags along. “Don’t forget about me!”
“Not you too,” Alistair groans. “Oh fuck. This is not going to end well.”
Mom begins to scream and picks up a piece of her own sludge pie with her bare hands. Dad immediately drops everything and runs towards the back door, shoving Dylan aside. “What happened?”
Too late because Mom just threw her own food … right at his face.
She pauses and blinks, her face growing white. The rest of us are frozen in the backyard, staring through the back door at the horror that just unfolded. My dad’s face turns redder by the second—not from embarrassment but from rage.
Fuck.
“Penelope …” Felix growls as he wipes the sludge off his stone-cold face.
She seems absolutely mortified. I’d be, too, if I’d thrown lukewarm food at my dad’s face. He will literally kill people over that shit.
All of us kids get up close to peer inside and see what’s about to go down.
“Get out. A bomb’s gonna explode, and as much as I love a good blowout, you do not want to be caught in the crossfire of this one,” Dylan says, shooing us away with a grin on his face.
Felix’s lips curl up. “Motherf—”
Alistair puts his hands against his mouth. “FOOD FIGHT!”
He picks up a handful of the pie and throws it at Dylan’s face, which hits him right in the teeth. Dylan splutters and coughs, and everyone bursts out into laughter.
“Okay, that’s it.” Dylan, and practically everyone else, storms at the table to grab a handful of food, throwing it around at whoever is in their vicinity. And after five throws, even my mom pitches in, chucking bits and pieces at whoever gets in her way.
“Here! Have a fucking taste of my pie!” she yells, laughing out loud just like the rest of us. “Doesn’t it fucking taste good?!”
I manage to dodge most hits, trying to empty the pan before they all come after me.