"Prolly seven, right? Or eight?"

He'd just asked me for a date. Idiot.

"Eight-thirty. Don't be late, idiot," I smiled. Idiot. Adorable fucking idiot.

I rode away, chuckling to myself, knowing he'd just made a face and punched air. Adorable fucking idiot.

*

After I dropped him off at his place down the street from mine after classes, I realized he'd been awful quiet. I frowned, trying to convince myself to turn around and check on him. Whatever, I'd check on him tonight. Eight-thirty; right.

I pulled up in the driveway of our mom's house and I noticed my brother's bike was parked funny. Mom's car wasn’t there, and even weirder, the front door'd been left open. I yanked my keys and strode over. I looked through the window, and saw my brother sitting on the couch with a beer. He didn't drink much, so I could figure something was wrong.

I poked my head through the door. "Mike?"

His buzzcut head turned, and I was surprised to see he'd been crying. Mike crying? I- didn't even know he could.

I cocked my head, and nonverbally asked if I should come back later.

He just said, "I punched Drace, and then someone called him his dead name and I punched them, and now pretty much nobody's talking to me."

"Damn, uh-"

"I know, I know. I'm a fucking idiot. But fuck. They called him Kylie. Fuck, dude."

"Who-o… the fuck calls Drace *Kylie* anymore. Who was this? And uh-" I sat down and leaned in. "What in the fuck made you punch-"

"*He* told me my dad was a rapist."

"Oh. I see." I leaned back.

There was a pause as he took a sip of the light beer can. "I just lashed out. I mean you know I don't do that." He wiped his mouth with the back of his massive hand, attached to his, his own words, "purely cosmetic muscles."

It was true. He was actaully completely harmless; everyone knew it and he could take shit from the guys like a champ, nothing but a grumble: everybody knows he won't hit you. I know nerds at work who killed more flies than him, and I used to rip the legs off daddy long legs when I was five. Didn't we all do that?

This was apparently different. But nobody, *nobody* had made that connection before.

"He meant it, apparently. He didn't like, say it publicly or anything. He DM'd it on Discord, and I just didn’t think. I just rode over to where he was eating at In-n-Out and socked him. Skipped class, I just wasn't thinking at all…"

To his credit, he didn't hide his tears.

I decided to make his ass a proper cocktail before the date. But crap. How the hell would I go on a date with this guy? My brother'd just literally punched him. Questionable tactics. What to do? For now, cocktails.

I brought him a fruity little thing from mom's stash which she never touched unless her boss was here. He sniffed it and apparently liked it.

I let the silence grow a second, and then said, over the top of my own glass, "fuck."

"Fuck."

We laughed like 10 year olds again. It was around six-ish. I had time to figure this out.

"So you didn't hit him hard, though. Like… how hard around?"

He scoffed. "Barely touched him. I mean you know. I don't do that shit."

"No, you don't. The other guy?"

"I think he took it personal. But no, no, didn't really hit him at all. But I did hit him harder, I guess."

"Nice. The idiot. Who's he think he is? And you did it because of the deadname, I guess."

"Well yeah," he said. "I think I was still crazy."

"You been uh," I swirled my glass.

"No!" He looked shocked. "He literally called my dad a fuckin'-" He sipped, and didn't finish. He'd said it enough, I guess.

"Yeah I mean… God damn."

"That's enough, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah it is."

*

I rode my motorcycle a bit to clear my head after the buzz was off. I was a heavyweight. Mike'd decided to take a nap at home, and I needed to think. Fu-uck. What the hell? Where'd that text come from? What the hell? A rapist? Where?

I admitted to myself that I didn’t actually know the man. He'd married my mom when we were both adults and he went to prison shortly after, and she divorced him. It'd always seemed a simple, efficient thing. Basic mistake. Getting a brother was pretty cool at 20, when he was like 23 or so. He payed rent, payed his bills and a bit of the PG&E, and was an emotionally mature idiot sweetheart of a guy to everyone, and always had been. Hated his dad, didn't really talk about him, and pretty much nobody did. He was just one of the family. Basic; efficient, easy to explain.

I mean, I guess when I thought about it, as I parted the lane on the highway on the way back, did it- *matter* his dad was some creep? I mean Mike wasn't. His dad was somewhere far the hell away, nobody cared about him. Mike didn't need to even prove himself. He was just Mike.

What did Drace know? What did he know that nobody else did? I merged lanes. I was going to the date. Fuck it.

*

I showed up. Casual dress, basic chit chat situation, Taco Bell, eight-thirty. He wasn't there. Well, I mean, figures. How the hell'd he go about it?

Well idiot, how'd *you* go about it, then? I looked around the parking lot on my bike a little more nervously. If he *was* here, what would *you* say? I saw someone else, though.

"Hey! I know you!"

Crap, crap, it was Suzie. Crap. Get me outta here…

"Yo, you wanna get a taco? My date stood me up."

"Su-ure. Love to." I got off my bike grudgingly. I could use a taco. But Suzie wasn't any kind of date I wanted, to be perfectly basic. I had to be five leagues over her head, and possibly as much as five inches. Fuck *me…*

We got tacos and she got a large drink. I always hated when people did that. How the hell was I gonna get my baja blast in a water cup when you play by the rules? I did anyway, of course. It just made it awkward.

But not for Suzie, dammit. She barely noticed. She banged on about something she'd seen on TikTok (god were people still on that cesspool) and of course it was the most white-girl thing you ever heard of. Literally Legally Blonde but in some unholy way whiter. We sat down, and I dug in, bracing for further impact.

She pulled the plug immediately. "Okay, your brother hit Drace *and* Allan. I know why. But I don't think you know everything and I think you should."

My mouth was full of lettuce and taco shell and I heard my earring jangle as my ears flushed. "Ye-" I swallowed. "Yeah?"

She hadn't even unwrapped a taco.

"Drace's uncle knew Mike's dad a long time ago. Sorry if this is fast, um…"

"Go on," I said, more kindly than I'd spoken before.

She smiled sheepishly. Retriever. "Well, they were friends before, but it got kind of ugly when Drace's uncle started dating his dad's old girlfriend."

"Oh, damn."

She paused.

"Oh, uh *sorry,* uh, go on."

"Well

…