‘Get back to bed, girl.’ Shanice wraps her arms around me. ‘It’s Ty . . . Nathan, let him go! Let him go!’ And she aims a kick in his direction. Shanice is only seven so she’s not a great fighter. But Nathan lets go of my arm. I lie still on the carpet, crunchy with glass from the busted telly. ‘Stay where you are,’ Nathan growls. ‘If you hurt my sister, you’re dead.’ ‘Ty wouldn’t hurt no one,’ says Shanice, her eyes big and teary. ‘Ty . . . are you all right? Nathan didn’t mean it . . . he must’ve thought you were a burglar, but it’s not, it’s Ty.’ ‘Get up,’ says Nathan. I pull myself up and stagger over to the sofa. My arm feels like it’s hanging by a thread. Blood dribbles from a cut on Nathan’s forehead where Mermaid Barbie did her work. Shanice leaps on me, hugging me tight, kissing my sore face. I wish she’d stop. I am so full of hate that I don’t want to think or feel anything else. And I especially don’t want to start crying, which is a distinct possibility right now.
