*whistles nervously* ... hi guys! Sorry it took so long for me to update— between getting ready for college and writing literally anything but this, it dragged on for a while. Definitely going to try to make it a shorter wait than a month and a half next time.

The first thing Claudia notices as she kicks her boots off is the sweet, sweet heat, and she breathes a deep sigh of relief. Means someone finally came home and paid the—

Oh Jesus Christ why on the couch—

"Knock much?" Dallas pulls his shirt back on over his head and covers Cass's bare chest with his arm, their bodies entangled, and a sharp stab of... something goes through her. Jealousy and fear and anger all mixed up. "Before you just barge in here?"

"I live here," Claudia snaps. "So that's what you've been doing? You've been with— shit! Shit shit shit!"

One careless step forward, and a shard of broken beer bottle sinks into her foot; she shrieks as a dark stream of blood flows out and the pain shoots up her leg. "Why the hell didn't you sweep it up?" Dallas shouts above the din, rushing over to her. "How long's it been there?"

"Quit yelling at her— she's hurt, for fuck's sake," Cass says, replacing her dress, and to her immense shock, Dallas's mouth falls shut. "Especially when it was you and your dad throwing around those bottles in the first place."

"Sit still." He leads Claudia over to the couch, his face white; she screws her eyes tightly shut, fighting tears. "Shit, Cass, maybe you should go. There's—"

"Girls see a lot more blood than boys," she says coolly. "Even with the amount you all get your heads split open. I think I'll be fine. Honey, let me at it."

Reluctantly, Claudia extends her foot; Cass removes her crimson sock and prods it with careful fingers. "Where do you keep the tweezers?" she asks Dallas.

"The what?"

"Never mind," she sighs. "Give me your switch, then. There's a big shard still stuck in there."

"We don't got the money for a doctor," Dallas says, his brow furrowed. "I mean. I don't got the money. Maybe Norm might."

"You'd think all of you could pawn that second TV, then," Cass mutters under her breath, then snatches the switchblade from Dallas's hand and flips it open. "You really need not fidget, okay? I ain't any kind of nurse. I don't want to slice this thing open even worse."

She grits her teeth so hard she can practically hear the enamel crack, as Cass digs out the shard and presses a tissue up against the wound. "You'll be okay," she says, her voice a touch too maternal for Claudia's liking. "I don't think you'll need stitches or anything, but stay off the foot for a while. And next time your dad and your brother start havin' tantrums, stay outta the wreck."

"I'mma go find a bandage," Dallas announces, 'tantrum' obviously cutting his pride deep.

"Are you pregnant?" Claudia blurts out once he leaves the room, a question she definitely shouldn't ask but has to.

"No," Cass says, letting out a short laugh. "What makes you ask that? Can't be the size of my stomach— I got nothing to eat lately."

"I ain't a little kid, so you and Dally can quit treating me like one," Claudia says. "Dally's been over at your place a lot. Having sex with you. He says you're in trouble, and I know what 'getting into trouble' means."

"You know a lot about making babies, for a girl your age."

Claudia shrugs— it's funny, she tells herself, for a prostitute to judge her knowledge of sex, but she feels deflated and vulgar all the same. "I did too, when I was eleven," Cass continues. "Be careful, honey. I got my first pimp when I was thirteen."

Just then Dallas comes back in. "Goddammit, we ain't got no bandages, but I ripped up one of Norm's shirts— one he hasn't puked on yet." He brandishes the scraps and clumsily ties a knot around Claudia's foot. "Hope this thing is clean— shit, it's Norm's. 'Course it ain't clean."

"I should probably go," Cass says, nervously glancing at the door. "When's he getting back?"

"When he runs out of cash for booze, I guess— ain't like he ever leaves a note." Dallas shrugs. "You don't have to leave, shit. He's still got a whole afternoon to get drunk."

"Pay attention to your sister," she chides, then leans in for a long, wet kiss— Claudia grimaces and turns her head away. "I think she misses you."

"Dad's gonna kill you, if he sees you brought her back here," Claudia says once Cass is gone, leaving the smell of cheap perfume in her wake. She burrows deeper into the couch cushions. "Good thing it was me and not him."

"I don't give a fuck if he does." Dallas balls his fists up and smirks. "Let 'im at me. Wouldn't have minded a real fight before he ran outta here like a little bitch."

"Liar," she insists, his bravado grating on her nerves even more than usual. "You're scared of him, too."

"Shut up," he says, a perennial refrain when he's run out of arguments, but he can't meet her eyes when he says it. "Where the hell have you been, anyway?"

"School." She punches him in the arm, solidly hard, though she doubts he felt more than a tickle. "Like you're one to talk. Shacking up with your girlfriend for a week."

"None of your business where I go, kid. Beats living with Norm."

"It's my business when I had to go camp at my friend Sarah's house after the heat went out," she says, unable to keep the whine from her voice. Her foot feels like it's pulsing with its own painful heartbeat. "You can't just leave me here."

"Man, you know where I got left when I was your age? In a prison cell. But I guess you're right— I ain't a little girl." He gives her a look that's an equal cross between condescension and pity.

"I hate you."

"Don't be a shithead," he says, ruffling her hair to soften the words. "I thought Norm would be back by now, okay? I mean, not that he's a great babysitter either. How 'bout next time I take you to Cass's and give you some earplugs?"

"I really hate you."

"Hey, I lifted you something." He bounds over to the fridge and pulls out a plastic container and a reasonably clean spoon. "Look. Pudding. You like pudding, right?"

"I'm not five years old," she says, determined not to let her resolve crack, even if it's chocolate. Apart from that pudding, all they have in the house is a can of beans and a half-eaten sandwich. She's hungry, goddammit.

"Shut up an' eat it," he says, plopping the container down on the coffee table. "Don't say I never do anything to look out for my poor injured sister." He flicks on the TV, showing some staticky news about the new government in Cuba. "Listen, Claud, we're gonna have it good once I work my way up in this new outfit— I promise. So quit giving me static."

He's been making that promise since she was nine and he shoplifted Barbies for her, but he's her brother, and if she can't trust him, she can't trust anyone. So she doesn't ask about Cass, or how Jack knows him, or where their dad is, because she doesn't want to risk him walking out again. She shuts up and eats her pudding.