Read Brutal Precious (Lovely Vicious #3) for Free Online Page A

that good old independence bug. Delta loves me – I’m a gold flier. They’ll let me change the date for nothing.”
    Dad lets out a frustrated sigh, his red face going with it. “Aren’t you – aren’t you happy here? This was supposed to be your summer vacation, with me. I haven’t seen you in two years, Isis. Two years.”
    “I’m having loads of fun here,” I lie vigorously. “And I’m gonna miss you.” Another lie. I don’t even know you. “I’m just, you know. Like Kelly said. I’m ready to go!”
    Dad eyes me over his glasses, and after what feels like eternity, sighs. Kelly smiles. I’ve won. As I pack my bags, I realize there’s really nothing for me here except borrowed BMWs, and a family that was never really mine.   And it took me seventeen years to figure that out.
    ‘You really are slow, aren’t you?’
    The voice echoes, so clear I’d swear Jack was standing nearby. But there’s no one there. A lopsided picture of Kelly and Dad stares at me through the open doorway. There are no pictures of me anywhere in the house, not even as a kid.
    I’m surrounded by people here, but I’m completely alone.
    I snap my suitcase shut and sit on it.
    I cry a little at the airport two days later. Dad doesn’t cry at all. This tells me everything I need to know about everything I never wanted to know. The airplane takes off and I helpfully throw peanuts at the bald guy in front of me who won’t stop farting. The stewardess thanks me with her eyes but then he gets up and goes to the bathroom and leaves the door open and we perish. For two hours.
    Mom is waiting for me at baggage claim. I smell like man-farts but she hugs me anyway and that’s how I know I’m not alone anymore.
     
    ***
     
    Packing for college is like packing for war. You’re not coming back. You don’t know what’s out there. There’s a chance you may die (exams) and/or suffer life-changing injuries (hangovers, STDs). And if you do come back, you’re lucky. But the enemy territory is just begging to be explored, and I’ve gotten all the training I need from basic (high school). I’ll be okay.
    I can’t fit Ms. Muffin into my suitcase.
    I’m not going to be okay.
    Mom hears my wails of distress and comes like a tired hound to the slaughter.
    “What’s wrong?” She asks.
    “Everything is over forever!” I throw myself into my pillows. Mom waits patiently for a translation. I throw my finger towards Ms. Muffin, half-hanging out of the bursting suitcase.
    “Isis, she’s a doll,” Mom sighs. “You’re going to college. Maybe it’s time to get rid of her.”
    I sit bolt upright, my eyes as big as saucers and my mouth as big as a flying saucer. Mom corrects herself.
    “Okay, okay. Ms. Muffin stays. But keep in mind; first impressions are everything, and the only people Ms. Muffin will impress are six-year-olds.”
    “Precisely, madre. I don’t want to be friends with people who aren’t six. At heart. Only at heart. Because it’s also fun to legally drive.”
    Mom shakes her head, laughing a little, and goes back downstairs to her pancakes.
    I sneak into her bathroom with all the grace of an anime ninja and check her pill stock. She’s full up – antidepressants, mostly. It worries me because they make people kill themselves. But it also doesn’t worry me, because they stop people from killing themselves. It’s the shittiest fifty-fifty gamble in the world, but it’s all we have. It’s all that’ll keep Mom safe while I’m gone.
    “What are you doing, Isis?”
    I immediately slam the mirror shut. “Checking for rats! And mold. Both of which kill people. Did you know rats can leap over ten feet horizontally? And they always aim for the jugular.”
    Mom tenses, her lips pursing like she’s going to chastise me, but then she moves in, enveloping me in her arms. Arms that are a little thicker than they used to be.
    “I’ll be alright, sweetie,” She murmurs into my fading purple-streaked hair. “It’s