Prepaid
Copyright© 2021 by Matt2670
Chapter 1
Wednesday, December 9, 2020
Cameron came through the front door at 3:07 p.m., readjusted her backpack, and then pushed the door closed behind her.
“That you, Stuff?”
Cameron muttered an obscenity and twisted the lock button vertical with her thumb and glanced at the alarm keypad. Sean hadn’t activated it when he got home, and she wouldn’t with him there.
“Stop calling me Stuff!” she yelled hotly. “You know I hate that!” She eyed Sean enter the dining room with a sandwich in one hand, and a pair of Diet Cokes in the other. She prepared to have one chucked at her, and still bobbled it clumsily after it hit her in the chest and bounced off. “Ow!” she complained loudly. She watched Sean watch her rub her right boob.
“I hate you some times!” she hissed.
“Of course, you do. What’s not to hate.” Sean was her 2-year older brother. “Any tales from 9th grade you want to share today?”
Cameron glowered at him. She was a Sophomore, not a Freshman, but Sean always called her a 9th-grader, even in front of her friends. She wanted to rub her right boob more where the can had whacked it, but wouldn’t give Sean the pleasure. She tapped the lid to hopefully settle the contents, and then pried up the ring with her fingernail. It popped threateningly, but didn’t overflow.
“We discussed loathsome older brothers and how they should all be exiled to Somalia.” Cameron had a vague idea where Somalia was.
Sean grinned condescendingly. Popping his Diet Coke, he took a sip and said: “Much as I’d like to discuss the intrigues of familial discord today—” He waved the sandwich at her. “—I got a question for you.”
Cameron immediately tightened. This had to do with the incident two weeks ago, she just knew it. “No!” she said, heading for the stairs.
“You haven’t heard the question yet,” he objected.
“Stop being an asshole, Sean.”
“It’s $500 this time.”
Cameron stumbled and almost fell. She grew red-faced at Sean’s answering snicker. Being pigeon-toed made her prone to tripping up as she walked. So did being a hopeless klutz.
She placed the Diet Coke can on the end table next to the couch and grasped the strap of her backpack with both hands and shifted it on her shoulder. “What?”
“$500 is a lot of dough, Cam.”
Her scowl intensified and so did her already-furious blush. “I told you no more,” she growled, heading for the stairs again. “Don’t ever bring it up to me again.”
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