The Iron King. Julie Kagawa

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me, inherited Mom’s big blue eyes. He’s the type of kid old ladies stop to coo at, and total strangers smile and wave at him from across the street. Mom and Luke dote on their baby, but it doesn’t seem to spoil him, thank goodness.

      â€œWhere’s Mom?” I asked as I entered the kitchen. Opening the cabinet doors, I scoured the boxes of cereal for the one I liked, wondering if Mom remembered to pick it up. Of course she hadn’t. Nothing but fiber squares and disgusting marshmallow cereals for Ethan. Was it so hard to remember Cheerios?

      Luke ignored me and sipped his coffee. Ethan chewed his Pop-Tart and sneezed on his father’s arm. I slammed the cabinet doors with a satisfying bang.

      â€œWhere’s Mom?” I asked, a bit louder this time. Luke jerked his head up and finally looked at me. His lazy brown eyes, like those of a cow, registered mild surprise.

      â€œOh, hello, Meg,” he said calmly. “I didn’t hear you come in. What did you say?”

      I sighed and repeated my question for the third time.

      â€œShe had a meeting with some of the ladies at church,” Luke murmured, turning back to his paper. “She won’t be back for a few hours, so you’ll have to take the bus.”

      I always took the bus. I just wanted to remind Mom that she was supposed to take me to get a learner’s permit this weekend. With Luke, it was hopeless. I could tell him something fourteen different times, and he’d forget it the moment I left the room. It wasn’t that Luke was mean or malicious, or even stupid. He adored Ethan, and Mom seemed truly happy with him. But, every time I spoke to my step dad, he would look at me with genuine surprise, as if he’d forgotten I lived here, too.

      I grabbed a bagel from the top of the fridge and chewed it sullenly, keeping an eye on the clock. Beau, our German shepherd, wandered in and put his big head on my knee. I scratched him behind the ears and he groaned. At least the dog appreciated me.

      Luke stood, gently placing Ethan back in his seat. “All right, big guy,” he said, kissing the top of Ethan’s head. “Dad has to fix the bathroom sink, so you sit there and be good. When I’m done, we’ll go feed the pigs, okay?”

      â€œâ€˜Kay,” Ethan chirped, swinging his chubby legs. “Floppy wants to see if Ms. Daisy had her babies yet.”

      Luke’s smile was so disgustingly proud, I felt nauseous.

      â€œHey, Luke,” I said as he turned to go, “bet you can’t guess what tomorrow is.”

      â€œMmm?” He didn’t even turn around. “I don’t know, Meg. If you have plans for tomorrow, talk to your mother.” He snapped his fingers, and Beau immediately left me to follow him. Their footsteps faded up the stairs, and I was alone with my half brother.

      Ethan kicked his feet, regarding me in that solemn way of his. “I know,” he announced softly, putting his Pop-Tart on the table. “Tomorrow’s your birthday, isn’t it? Floppy told me, and I remembered.”

      â€œYeah,” I muttered, turning and lobbing the bagel into the trash can. It hit the wall with a thump and dropped inside, leaving a greasy smear on the paint. I smirked and decided to leave it.

      â€œFloppy says to tell you happy early birthday.”

      â€œTell Floppy thanks.” I ruffled Ethan’s hair as I left the kitchen, my mood completely soured. I knew it. Mom and Luke would completely forget my birthday tomorrow. I wouldn’t get a card, or a cake, or even a “happy birthday” from anyone. Except my kid brother’s stupid stuffed rabbit. How pathetic was that?

      Back in my room, I grabbed books, homework, gym clothes, and the iPod I’d spent a year saving for, despite Luke’s disdain of those “useless, brain-numbing gadgets.” In true hick fashion, my stepfather dislikes and distrusts anything that could make life easier. Cell phones? No way, we’ve got a perfectly good landline. Video games? They’re the devil’s tools, turning kids into delinquents and serial killers. I’ve begged Mom over and over to buy me a laptop for school, but Luke insists that if his ancient, clunky PC is good enough for him, it’s good enough for the family. Never mind that dial-up takes flipping forever. I mean, who uses dial-up anymore?

      I checked my watch and swore. The bus would arrive shortly, and I had a good ten-minute walk to the main road. Looking out the window, I saw the sky was gray and heavy with rain, so I grabbed a jacket, as well. And, not for the first time, I wished we lived closer to town.

      I swear, when I get a license and a car, I am never coming back to this place.

      â€œMeggie?” Ethan hovered in the doorway, clutching his rabbit under his chin. His blue eyes regarded me somberly. “Can I go with you today?”

      â€œWhat?” Shrugging into my jacket, I gazed around for my backpack. “No, Ethan. I’m going to school now. Big-kids school, no rug rats allowed.”

      I turned away, only to feel two small arms wrap around my leg. Putting my hand against the wall to avoid falling, I glared down at my half brother. Ethan clung to me doggedly, his face tilted up to mine, his jaw set. “Please?” he begged. “I’ll be good, I promise. Take me with you? Just for today?”

      With a sigh, I bent down and picked him up.

      â€œWhat’s up, squirt?” I asked, brushing his hair out of his eyes. Mom would need to cut it soon; it was starting to look like a bird’s nest. “You’re awfully clingy this morning. What’s going on?”

      â€œScared,” Ethan muttered, burying his face in my neck.

      â€œYou’re scared?”

      He shook his head. “Floppy’s scared.”

      â€œWhat’s Floppy scared of?”

      â€œThe man in the closet.”

      I felt a small chill slide up my back. Sometimes, Ethan was so quiet and serious, it was hard to remember he was only four. He still had childish fears of monsters under his bed and bogeymen in his closet. In Ethan’s world, stuffed animals spoke to him, invisible men waved to him from the bushes, and scary creatures tapped long nails against his bedroom window. He rarely went to Mom or Luke with stories of monsters and bogeymen; from the time he was old enough to walk, he always came to me.

      I sighed, knowing he wanted me to go upstairs and check, to reassure him that nothing lurked in his closet or under his bed. I kept a flashlight on his dresser for that very reason.

      Outside, lightning flickered, and thunder rumbled in the distance. I winced. My walk to the bus was not going to be pleasant.

      Dammit, I don’t have time for this.

      Ethan pulled back and looked at me, eyes pleading. I sighed again. “Fine,” I muttered, putting him down. “Let’s go check for monsters.”

      He followed me silently up the stairs, watching anxiously as I grabbed the flashlight and got down on my knees, shining it under the bed.

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