Graceless (Grace Notes #2)

Lane examined her. You would pick them as sisters from a mile away, but there were differences. Cassidy was pale where Savannah was golden, her hair was lighter and longer and their mouths were different shapes. Their eyes though…

Lane suddenly realized the girl was giving them the same assessing stare, only with an edge of confusion. They waited. You could learn a lot about a person by the way they behaved about now, and Lane was curious.

“Are you a boy or a girl?” she blurted, as she took in Lane’s increasingly firm – but only 5’6” – frame, their short dark swooping haircut, their strong jaw but soft, smooth skin, the board shorts and fitted t-shirt. Lane shrugged. There were definitely much better ways to go about it, but it was blunt and to the point.

“Neither,” they said simply. “My pronouns are they/them.”

The girl gave them a glare before rolling her eyes.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Lane stared at her flatly.

“Cool, well, you’re an asshole, so I won’t say it’s nice to meet you. Are there any more burgers left or did you hoover them all?”

“Are you allowed to call your boss’s sister an asshole?” the girl asked. Lane couldn’t tell if she was actually curious or attempting to be threatening. In response, they wandered through the kitchen and popped their head through to the living room, where Savannah and Brynn were sitting side by side on the couch, looking faintly shell-shocked.

“Hey Savannah,” Lane said, loud enough to be heard in the next room. “You know your sister is here and she’s kind of a dick, right?”

Savannah looked up.

“Is she being rude to you? Because I literally just told her she can only stay here if she keeps a lid on the attitude,” she called, clearly aiming for the dining room.

“Yeah, I think she’s still working on that.”

“Cassidy, cut the crap.” Savannah’s voice was crisp and fierce. Lane was pretty sure they’d die if Savannah ever used that tone on them.

Brynn raised her eyebrows at them, checking in. Lane shrugged. They’d dealt with a lot worse.

Back in the dining room, Cassidy’s back was stiff as Lane helped themself to a burger. They could hear Tucker chatting away to Annabelle in the next room and Lane was about to go join him when the girl spoke up.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice flat. Lane looked at her. They weren’t sure if she was sincere or just trying not to get kicked out. They were pretty sure it was the latter, but as they looked at Cassidy, they noticed other things: the slight rip in the neck of her dress, the weariness and wariness of her eyes, the thinness of her wrists.

“Whatever.” Lane shrugged. They sat down opposite her, still curious to finally get to suss out a member of Savannah’s long estranged family. “So what brings you here?” Lane asked. Cassidy hesitated, the remains of her burger halfway to her mouth. Lane gave her a longer look and hazarded a guess. “Trouble at home?”

“You could say that.”

“Huh. That sucks, I’m sorry.” Lane couldn’t help but empathize with that one. “You’ll be okay though, you know. Savannah will look out for you.”

“You’re on the bandwagon too, huh?” Cassidy took another bite and chewed.

“What?”

“Savannah the princess, Savannah the great, Savannah the saint.”

“Whoa. Why the hate?”

“It’s not hate.” Cassidy licked her fingers as the burger disappeared. “I just see her for who she really is, unlike everyone that’s always fawning around her. Including you, apparently.”

“Wow, you’ve really got everything all figured out, don’t you?” Lane took a swig of sweet tea. Cassidy might be pretty, but she was in no way fun to be around. They stood up. “Well, enjoy eating Savannah’s food and having Savannah’s safe roof over your head. You’ve got sauce in your hair, by the way.”

Cassidy flushed in annoyance.

“Who is that?” Tucker appeared beside them, staring. Unlike Cassidy, he looked nothing like his mother, except in certain gestures or expressions, like when he smiled. His dark straight hair was long and shaggy, his limbs thin and gangly. People who didn’t know always assumed that Brynn was his biological parent. Cassidy’s face actually softened as she looked down at the curious child.

“That,” Lane told him, “is your aunt. But she’s in a real mood, so you can meet her when she’s had a moment to reflect.” They grabbed Tucker’s hand and whisked him away.

Cassidy soaked in the big white bathtub in the ensuite of the guest room Annabelle had led her to. She ducked her head under the water, letting the road dirt and grime of her bad day soak away. It was only now, with a door closed between her and the world, that she finally let the tears fall.