Savage Pride

22

Zeno, Age 14 Luisa and Nevio, Age 11 “Why do you guys always have to play Halo?” I groan, flopping onto the sofa in the game room at Hardwick. The boys got a new Xbox 360 for Christmas and have been glued to it ever since. Some of the games advertised on TV look fun, but I don’t like any of the games the boys have— mostly shooter games and race cars. Blech. “Because it’s awesome,” Nevio says without taking his eyes from the screen. “Why don’t you go play with Grace if you don’t like Halo?” “She went to Connecticut for Easter to visit her aunt. The whole family went.” “And Gia?” “She asked Mom to show her how to use the sewing machine.” No idea why. I’d rather do a million other things before I’d ask to learn how to sew. So dumb. “Hey!” Nevio cries. “Why’d you pause it?” We both look at Zeno, who stands and tosses his controller on the couch. “How about I go find the old Game Boy for you, Isa? I think we still have the Mario Cart game with it. Would that work?” I grin so wide my cheeks ache. “Yeah, that works.” Z is the best. If I had a brother, I’d want him to be exactly like Zeno. He gives me a knowing smirk and jogs out of the room. For the next several minutes, I deal with Nevio moaning about his game being interrupted. I throw a pillow at him, which instigates a pillow fight. We shriek and chase each other around the room with sofa pillows clasped in our hands. I get a particularly savage strike in and laugh hysterically as Zeno returns in the corner of my vision. When I look at where he stands frozen in the doorway, my grin melts from my face. “What’s wrong?” I ask, ignoring Nevio’s return strike to my gut. “You need to go home.” Zeno’s body is rigid, and his angry glare makes me feel six inches tall. “But the Game Boy? I thought we were all hanging out.” My voice is barely a whisper because I don’t understand what I’ve done to be sent home. “Now, Luisa!” he yells, pointing at the door beside him. Zeno is scaring me. I glance beside me at Nevio, who looks confused as well. There’s an apology in his eyes, but he doesn’t argue with his brother. All I can do is tuck my chin and slink from the room, hoping his bad mood passes quickly. I want to cry as I walk through the spring grass on the way home, but I don’t. Instead, I veer from the worn path and walk down to the lake. I need to be alone. I spend at least an hour skipping rocks along the smooth surface of the water, wondering what I did to upset Zeno. Whenever I think of how he glared at me, my chest feels hollow, and I want to curl into a ball. Midmorning the next day, I walk to Hardwick and slip in through the kitchen door like I always do, making sure to tell Cecelia good morning. I’m equal parts nervous and hopeful about seeing Zeno. Even when Nevio makes Z really mad, it only ever lasts a day. I have convinced myself that whatever got into him will have passed, and we’ll all hang out today like usual. I find the boys together in the main family room, watching TV. “Hey, guys. Can I watch with you?” My gaze darts warily back and forth between them. Nevio turns to smile at me briefly. “Sure. The Scorpion King is on.” Zeno doesn’t tell me to leave or acknowledge my presence at all, for that matter, so I find a spot on the large sectional away from him and turn to the screen. Not even five minutes later, Z pushes off the sofa and storms from the room. “He still upset?” I ask Nevio. “Yeah, he’s been extra quiet. No idea why, but I wouldn’t worry about it. He can be moody like that.” I wish it were that easy. I can tell in my gut that Z is upset with me, and I want to fix it. Zeno’s anger feels so much worse than when Gia or Grace get mad at me. Maybe because he’s older and cooler. I don’t know. I just want to make it better. We continue watching the movie for almost an hour before I can’t stand it any longer. I have to go find Z and apologize. Nevio doesn’t take his eyes from the movie as I slip from the room. The house is quiet, especially once I’m upstairs away from the sounds of the TV. The silent hallways at Hardwick are always a little creepy, but I’m more scared of Zeno staying mad at me than anything. When I get to his room, the door is shut. I knock softly, not wanting to bother him but knowing I have to do something so that we can be friends again. “What?” Z barks from inside. “It’s Isa. Can I come in?” I stand in the huge hallway while a nearby grandfather clock ticks away the seconds. Could Z be so mad that he’d never talk to me again? I wait long enough until I begin to give up and am about to leave when the door creaks open. Zeno stands tall above me. Taller than I remember him being, though I see him all the time. His anger makes him look enormous and a little scary. “This isn’t going to work anymore, Luisa. I’m not interested in hanging out with the housekeeper’s daughter. Plus, you’re a kid, and I’m a teenager. That’s the way it is, so you need to get over it.” His voice reminds me of a dog’s warning growl. There’s no hint of teasing on his face or in his words. Zeno is telling me he’s done being my friend. I blink back tears and push past the ache in my chest. “But … what about this summer—bike rides, and hide-and-seek, and climbing trees, and…” “That’s not my problem. Maybe Nevio will play with you.” Zero emotion. In fact, the more upset I become, the angrier he gets. Too angry for me to argue with him. He’s cutting me from his life the way Daddy trims weeds from our garden, and I can’t do anything about it. I turn and walk toward the stairs, speeding my stride with each step I take. By the time I make it outside, sadness leaks from my eyes in heavy droplets. I walk home, each step heavier than the last. It takes me a full half hour to make the short walk. By the time I reach our front door, I want to crawl under my bed and cry for days.