The Open Door Chapter 2

I just get back to our apartment when my mom twists my ear, hard.

“Sarah! Where the hell were you? Taking out the trash or trying to get hit by a car? You’re so damn lazy!”

Her eyes are full of disgust.

“What are you standing there for?” She shoves me. “Go make dinner! Your brother is a growing boy. If he’s hungry, I’ll skin you alive!”

On the sofa, my dad, Mike, is smoking, his feet up on the table.

He blows a cloud of smoke in my face as I pass. “Told you, girls don't need college. Wastes time. My buddy Leo’s daughter dropped out, works in a factory, sends him three grand a month! Just got her engaged. Twenty grand, cash. That’s a good daughter.”

I don’t listen. I go to the kitchen.

On the cutting board is a mountain of bright red habanero peppers.

My brother loves spicy food.

I’m violently allergic. If the juice touches my skin, I break out in welts.

But in this house, there has never, not once, been a meal I could eat without pain.

I tried to protest, once.

My mom just laughed. “Allergic? You’re just dramatic. Good. Maybe you’ll stop eating. You’re fat as a pig.”

I look down at my arms.

My wrist bones stick out. I’m five-foot-one and ninety pounds.

I think about what I just saw.

Mark is a gym teacher. He’s all muscle. My brother… he’s a twig.

His first time... he’s probably in a lot of pain.

He’s probably torn.

A terrible, wonderful idea starts to grow in my mind. I can't stop the smile from spreading across my face.

You like it spicy, do you, Kevin?

Then sister is going to cook you a meal you will never, ever forget.

I turn on the tap, pull on a pair of rubber gloves, and grab a handful of peppers three times bigger than usual.

The air in the kitchen is already starting to burn.