Celeste
When I arrived at home, Jack was none the wiser. I prepared dinner for us—Jack’s favorite, steak and mashed potatoes. I kept quiet as I cleaned the kitchen until it sparkled, and brought Jack an ice cold glass of beer while he sat in the living room.
“You’re trying to butter me up, aren’t you?” he asked. “You’re not going to that dance, Celeste. It’s for your own good; trust me. Trust your brother.”
“I trust you,” I lied, forcing a fake smile. “And I’m not trying to butter you up. I’m just… Apologizing.”
Jack narrowed his eyes at me, but took the glass of beer nonetheless and muttered some words of thanks. I retreated to my room, pacing back and forth and chewing on my nails as I waited for the perfect chance. I had to wait until he was relaxed and drunk for this to
