Chapter Sixty-Two

“And this is the arts and crafts class,” the Biron girl said with a big showman’s wave, as if it was something to be proud of. Crochet certainly seemed excited for all of ten seconds before she saw all the shit plastered to the walls.

“Who did all that?” Cheshire asked as she pointed to a water painted picture of what might have been a unicorn, maybe, if she squinted.

The Biron girl shifted. “One of your future classmates?” she asked. The girl had less confidence than even someone like Alice did in her pinkie. It was pathetic. “We practice all sorts of fun things here. Like, making clay... stuff, and painting.”

“Well, tell whoever painted all of those that they’re shit at painting,” Cheshire said.

“Hey!” Biron said. “Some of them tried really hard.”

“They should try harder to do something else cause they’re really shit at art. Look at that one.” She pointed to one image of... a hill? “Looks like poop.”

“Well, art is a mandatory class, so you’ll have to participate too,” the annoying twit said.

Cheshire had had enough. She looked at her other sisters, saw that Alice was day-dreaming, Remedy was yawning, Tattletail was doing that thing where she smiled weirdly and Crochet... Crochet was the only one actually interested in the whole school thing, which was good for her, but Cheshire had walked in with no shits to give and had since fallen into the negative.

She gave negative shits. “I’m off.”

“What?” Biron squeaked.

The little goody-two-shoes was probably worried that Cheshire doing her own thing would make her look bad. Good. If Cheshire couldn’t have nice things nor could anyone else.

She moved to a wall that had a window overlooking the fields behind the school. There were a bunch of tracks with a fence around them and a soccer field off to the side. Since she gave negative shits she just phased right through the window, and when Biron screamed something on the other side and banged against it she showed the twit her two favourite fingers.

She was free.

Free to... whatever. She wasn’t sure. Go home? But then Big Sis would find her and she’d be mad. In fact, she’d be mad either way.

Cheshire growled under her breath and stomped off towards a little building to the side of the school. Someone had left the door open and she could see all sorts of sports equipment stuffed into wooden racks and stuff.

She took a stick with a sort of net on the end, then looked around the room. Then she went to town, screaming and yelling as she hit every rack she could reach, and kicked over large metal baskets filled with balls and she even smacked--by accident--the dangling light on the ceiling and made it swing all over the place.

The net on her stick broke with a crack when she smacked some cones off a shelf, but that just gave her something sharp and pointy to stab into a stack of bright blue mats. She flung skip ropes across the room like confetti, and she screamed as she flung some weights into the walls until one of them broke through the drywall and stayed lodged in.

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When she finally calmed down and wiped her cheeks, her stick was broken, her hands hurt and the room looked like how she felt.

Something creaked behind her and Cheshire spun around, ready to take out her feelings on whomever had bothered her.

Big Sis looked around the room, then locked eyes with her. Then she looked to the ground. “I’m sorry,” she said.

Cheshire wasn’t sure what to do. “S’not your fault,” she muttered at last.

Big Sis stepped into the room and reached up to stop the light from swinging so much. “Isn’t it?” she asked.

Cheshire wrapped her arms around her chest. “Not your fault that I’m a shit sister. It’s okay if you like the others better.”

Big Sis closed the door a little, then moved past Cheshire and sat on the mats after blowing some of the stuffing away. Sitting so low to the ground made Big Sis look small, especially as she hugged her knees close. “Do you want to talk about it? I promise I’ll listen. I’m not very good at being a big sister, but I can do that much.”

Cheshire sniffed. She didn’t want to talk, she wanted to... to do... something. She slumped down and sat on the floor next to a deflated soccer ball and a pile of tipped over cones. “I’m not like the others. I’m not as... as cool and I don’t know as much and sometimes I think that there’s always one sister that’s better at stuff than I am. And... and I guess that’s okay. It’s okay that you love them more than you love me.”

Cheshire wiped the dust out of her eyes again.

“And, and you know that, yeah? Cause it’s always... hugs and shit for the others, and all I get is watched a lot because I might do somethin’ stupid because I’m stupid, aren’t I?”

Big Sis hugged her.

Cheshire hadn’t noticed her moving, too busy blinking at the floor. She sat stiffly in the hug until Big Sis shook, and then she shook again and made a noise and Cheshire realized that Big Sis was crying.

“D-don’t cry,” Cheshire said. It sounded a little blubbery, weak. “Only babies cry.”

The hug tightened and it hurt. “I’m so sorry.”

“You’re bein’ a dumbass,” Cheshire said. Still, she sank into the hug a little.

“Yeah, yeah, I have been,” Big Sis said. She snorted and it sounded disgusting, but she didn’t let go of the hug. “I’m... I’m going to fix this, okay? I... we’ll figure something out? Maybe we’ll just hang out together sometimes, and we can go running or, or whatever you want. I could do one thing with each sister every day, maybe. But, but this, this can’t happen, I can’t lose a sister like this. And I’m sorry.”

Cheshire considered it. It didn’t address her problem, not really. She was still the worst sister. But... but maybe if Big Sis went that far it meant that it didn’t matter that much?

She returned the hug.

“What do we do ‘bout the room?”

“Fuck it,” Big Sis said.

Cheshire giggled, and if it sounded a little wet, Big Sis didn’t mind.