Brother, This April Fools’ Day Is the Last One Chapter 02

Brother, This April Fools’ Day Is the Last One Chapter 02

Oliver made a gagging noise.

“God, she’s disgusting.”

“How could Mr. Miller even look at her? She’s short, she’s ugly, and her back is covered in bacne. You should see the rest of her, it’s just as lumpy and gross. It’s revolting.”

“We’ve got the same parents, how the hell did she turn out like that.”

The oven blocked out every sound I made, but it couldn’t shut theirs out. I heard all of it.

Every word hit something I thought I’d buried, and split it right back open, raw, like it had never healed.

The pain didn’t stop at my chest. The temperature in the oven was still climbing.

The air inside pressed against my skin like a solid wall. My whole body burned.

I pounded on the glass.

I begged them with my eyes, just one look, that was all I needed.

Because if they didn’t, this would be the last April Fool’s Day of my life.

The thought broke something in me, and the tears came. Each tear fell toward the metal floor and vanished, the heat swallowing it before it could even land.

Blisters were already bubbling up on the soles of my feet.

The heat was unbearable now.

I hit the glass with everything I had, and finally…

The door gave a little. They hadn’t locked the child-safety latch.

I shoved my hand into the gap, ready to force it open.

“Aw, trying to get out already?”

Lily’s face filled the gap, and my stomach dropped.

She kicked the door shut. The edge caught my hand and I felt something crack.

I screamed and jerked my hand back inside.

Through the glass, I watched her slide the child-safety lock into place.

“Just stay in there. A broken oven isn’t going to kill you.”

She said it like she actually believed it, even though the inside of the oven was already starting to glow, even though the glass was already too hot to touch.

She stood up and turned to Oliver. “It’s fine. The oven’s broken anyway. Besides, you told me to unplug it, remember? The power’s off, nothing’s going to happen.”

She hadn’t unplugged it. She hadn’t unplugged anything.

I threw my head against the door.

It didn’t matter. Oliver was already onto something else in my room.

“What the hell is this?”

Through the glass, I could see into my room. He was holding the gift I’d left on my nightstand.

No. He couldn’t open that. But the door was sealed shut, and I couldn’t do anything.

Oliver pulled out the letter tucked inside and opened it.

He read the first line out loud, his voice flattening with disbelief. “I’ve been in love with you for so long. Even when you’re mean to me, I can’t help how I feel.”

Something in his face changed. He crossed the room in three strides and ripped the letter and the gift apart right in front of me.

“What the hell is wrong with you? We’re siblings, for god’s sake. How could you write something like this? Are you totally sick in the head?”

I couldn’t move. I could only stare.

No, it was a misunderstanding. That letter wasn’t mine. It wasn’t mine!

But he couldn’t hear me, and he never looked up.

His eyes drifted to the oven’s temperature dial. “I wish this piece of junk actually worked,” he said. “So it could get rid of someone as sick as you.”

No. Oliver, that letter wasn’t mine, it was Lily’s. She’d written it for someone else. I’d been holding onto it because I hadn’t found the right time to give it back, hadn’t figured out how to break the news that he’d rejected her.

The heat kept climbing. My skin was already going numb.

The heat pulsed, the temperature dropping for a split second, then blasting back. Each dip gave me just enough relief to feel the next wave hit even harder.

The pain was everywhere and it wouldn’t stop.

Save me. Oliver, Lily, please, I’m begging you.

This might be the last April Fool’s Day we’ll ever share.

I couldn’t cry anymore. My body was starting to lock up. Lily opened my closet and pulled out the dress I’d been saving for my birthday.

“Oh my God, I love this dress. You don’t mind if I take it, do you?”

My eyes had glazed over. I couldn’t have answered even if I’d wanted to.