“Um, say what?” Day called after her as she darted out of the room.
Mish reappeared with our wine, which had been topped up, and had the biggest grin on her face. “When we were eight, he pulled the head off my Barbie and threw it down the toilet. In retaliation, I hid all his BB gun bullets in the pantry. This was around the time Mum decided to put a lock on the pantry door because he kept creeping in in the middle of the night.”
“I see where this is going.” Amusement hinted at my lips.
“He stole the hammer from the shed and knocked the door down to get to them. I ended up with several bruises from all the times he shot me after that, but it wasn’t as bad as the grounding he got for breaking the door. Believe me. That boy had—and still has—a temper. As long as you can tame it, you’re fine.”
Day smiled at me.
