"Wivy! Wivy! Wook at the cwab!"

I casually flipped a page of my comic book, and with a frustrated sigh, blew a strand of hair away from my eyes before it could become a nuisance, not looking up. "It's Liv. Liv," I said, dragging out each letter sound and enunciating carefully. "Take your finger outta your mouth and say my name properly, Jesus..."

"Olivia May Reynolds!" scolded my mother from the front passenger seat, turning to reprimand me as my half-brother, the product of her second marriage, gawked at me with gradually watering eyes. "Don't use the Lord's name as a curse, especially not in front o' Devon! Apologize right now." Then, like the dedicated and caring parent she was, she turned back around with a derisive head shake, narrowly missing the dirty look I shot her way as she continued her conversation with my step-father.

I'd curse using whatever Goddamn word I wanted, screw my mother.

"What's wrong with crabs?"

My scowl softened at Devon's wide brown eyes and I put my comic aside to hastily brush away a few tears that had escaped. "Ah, Dev, I'm sorry, that was harsh. Ain't nothin' wrong with cwa— I mean, crabs. Where'd you see a crab so far from the ocean?"

"In the sky!" he said with a sniff, immediately putting his thumb back in its usual position in his mouth. "A cwab in the cwouds!"

I smiled slightly. "You saw a cloud shaped like a crab?"

He nodded excitedly, already forgetting my outburst.

"Well," I leaned over as best I could with my seatbelt trying to pull me back and pointed out his window, "what d'you think o' that one, Kid? Kinda looks like a duck, huh?"

The cloud didn't really look like a duck, but he pounded his tiny fists against the glass with delight anyway, enthralled with the fluffy cotton balls peppering the bright blue sky.

Fields of corn passed by as we drove along the one-lane highway, heading to 'the shindig of the summer' as my mother had cheerfully chirped a half-hour before. I hadn't even been given a warning before being shoved in the back of the truck with a three-year-old for a responsibility. I wasn't to let him out of my sight under any circumstances and I had to entertain him for the duration of the get-together, which sucked balls in my opinion. Normally, I would voice my irritation aloud, but I wasn't in the mood for another lecture on my attitude and how much I was disappointing God; two was enough for one day.

Just as the thought that we must be nearing the Texas-Mexico border crossed my mind, the asphalt changed to dirt beneath my step-father's beloved Chevy as we turned onto a side road, dust kicking up in our wake. The beginning of the property was coming into sight and our first view of the farm was of its miniature horses in a wide pen to our left, fields stretching around the main house towards a thick forest several hundred yards away.

Devon squealed at the "baby horsies", kicking his stubby legs against my mother's seat with excitement.

"Devon, you stop that," she said disdainfully. "You need to be on your best behaviour in front of Daddy and Mommy's friends, you hear?"

I rolled my eyes while he bobbed his head, thumb still lodged firmly in his mouth. He's three, Ma, what do you expect? A discussion on Shakespeare? Or maybe politics? Hell, I could barely hold a discussion with adults and I was thirteen, what was a three-year-old supposed to do?

Cars and beat-up pickups had already started to line the road but there were still some parking spots left on the front lawn. We pulled into the entranceway of the property, passing between two stone pillars topped with creepy-looking gargoyles. I shivered at their grotesque faces, forked tongues lolling from their open maws, and imagined their eyes burning with hellfire as they shook the dust from their leathery wings, living creatures encased in stone.

"Olivia, are you listenin' to me?"

I shook out of my nightmarish daydream as we reversed into a makeshift parking spot, rumbling to a halt beneath some overhanging trees. Next to us, a woman hopped out of a dusty jeep with a six-pack of Corona, slapping her nearby friend on the back and ruffling his hair before they both swaggered up the lawn. I watched curiously. Maybe later I could sneak a beer while my mother was off making a fool of herself.

"Olivia May!"

"Uh-huh, watch Dev, I heard you the first time, for Christ's sake."

My step-father wisely left the truck as my mother's eyes blazed, her hand on the handle of the door. I had pushed her buttons good and hard and he knew it. "Can the attitude, missy, or I'll smack it outta you myself, may the good Lord forgive me. And quit swearin', I didn't raise no heathen."

I avoided her glare, mentally scoffing. She would never hit me and she knew it, but threatened the possibility of a good walloping every now and then to try to keep me in line.

"That's what I thought." Seeming to take my break in eye contact as submission, she got out of the truck, slamming the door behind her and leaving me to deal with my brother.

I blew out a breath, refraining from muttering some of my favourite choice words in front of Devon; he didn't need another bad example to look to with a spineless fool for a father and a loud-mouthed bitch for a mother.

After untwisting the several straps that kept my brother from bouncing around the car, I lifted Devon up by his waist and put him on the ground, shaking a string of drool off my hands.

Three-year-olds are gross.

"Livy!" He had taken his thumb out of his mouth to point toward a fenced enclosure beside the barn where the yapping of dogs could be heard within a wooden hut. I put a hand on his shoulder before he could run off. "Puppies! I wanna see the puppies!"

"Hang on, Kid, gimme a second." I gave a lingering look to my comic book, discarded on the seat, and deftly tucked it into the waistband of my shorts, pulling the hem of my shirt down to cover it. My mother had said on the drive out of town that she would take my books away if she caught me slacking off with watching Devon, but what she didn't know wouldn't get me in trouble.

Suddenly, the metal of the cross necklace around my throat caught a ray of the blazing August sun, casting a glare on the seat of the car and I paused, turning the hot iron over in my hands. A feeling of helplessness bubbled to the surface, brought on by my mother, and I started to undo the chain, burning with defiant anger. I would show her that she couldn't control me.

A few seconds later, I stopped fiddling with the necklace, wanting to scream but sighing instead. I couldn't take it off; I would feel naked without its familiar weight. So I stuffed the clunky cross beneath my shirt, quietly steaming that my mother had ingrained this symbol in my life.

Devon watched me curiously, not understanding my struggle; he only saw it as a pretty chain he got to wear. I paused, thinking, and then undid the clasp on his own cross necklace, roughly stuffing it in the side door of the car. It was too late for me, but he wasn't even old enough to tie his shoes, why should he have religion forced down his throat?

Besides, there was no God. If there was, he would've sent my mother down to Hell long ago for cheating on my daddy and breaking his heart.

I slung Devon over my back like a knapsack, to which he squealed happily, and hurried to catch up to our mother, who was already mingling with the family who owned the farm, the Murrays. My step-father had described them to my brother and I on the thirty minute ride out of our town of Shedden in an effort to pique my interest about the gathering. It hadn't at all, but I easily recognized the father, a tall, bespectacled man named Paul, who was greeting newcomers, and his comely wife, Chana, who was directing those with food to the open garage of the main house where several tables were set out, and those without further onto the property. An army of lawn chairs created an audience for a makeshift stage where two men were currently talking, guitars hanging from straps around their necks, while another lightly tapped out a beat on a drum set, the microphone in the centre of the stage currently unoccupied. Several yards away, the thick forest swayed in the summer breeze behind the sitting area.

"Hey there, kiddos!"

Oh, Lordy... Paul had put his hands on his knees as I approached, bending to speak with me 'on my level'. I bit my tongue, like my mother would have wanted. Devon gurgled with his hand at his mouth.

"Welcome to the place, Olivia, Devon. We're gonna have a real good time today!" His wide smile dropped a little, becoming more serious. "Now, I know y'all are smart kids, but I'm gonna have to go over a few rules, so listen closely." First, he pointed toward the barn to the left and the house to the right, explaining where the bathrooms were and that we were not to touch any tools that we might find. As for the animal pens, the farm had a dozen or so miniature horses, a couple pigs, a chicken, and a goat, all of which were to be treated with respect. "This is their home after all. How would you feel if someone came into your house and started poking at you?"

I decided that I would probably not stand for anything of the sort, and resigned not to bother the animals.

"I hear from your mother that you like dogs." This was addressed to Devon, and he nodded, clapping his hands together. Paul smiled. "Now, I know you might want to touch the dogs, but they're rescue dogs. They weren't always in such a nice home and they may not take kindly to your poking and prodding. It's even possible that they might take a nip at you. We don' want anyone to lose a finger, so you can't touch the dogs, alright?"

Devon nodded seriously and I plastered a knowing smile on my face, but inwardly I groaned; he would want to touch the dogs anyway, and I wouldn't be able to hide a missing finger. Well... at least not for long.

"One more thing, then I'll let you scamper off, but I need you to listen 'cause this one's important." Paul put his hands on my shoulders and I raised an eyebrow at the intensity of his stare. "You see the forest over there?"

Yeah, Paul, the huge one in front of me with all the trees, I see it.

"You can't go in there."

"Why?"

My mother's tongue clucked at my brazenness but Paul simply chuckled. "It's alright, Taylor, she's jus' curious. Last night, two of the pigs were attacked and dragged out of their pens by what we're thinkin' was a coyote, an' one of the dogs was killed the night before that, maybe by a wolf. We think they're still out there, and while coyotes an' wolves don' usually go after people, we're keeping the young'uns out of the woods for now until we can kill 'em, make sense?"

I nodded wide-eyed. I was sorry to hear about the animals, but a coyote or a wolf? Christ! Now this party was getting interesting.

"You don' have to worry as long as you stay away from the forest. Now you kids go have fun." Paul clapped me on the shoulder and turned away as more people approached, small children running between the legs of adults carrying chairs and coolers, kids my age dragging their feet sullenly behind their parents.

My mother shot me one last look, warning me to keep in line, and went to go set up a chair beside a couple of other women, my step-father trailing behind her like a puppy on a leash. I stuck my tongue out at her retreating back, and hiked Devon up as he slipped down my back. "Well, Kid, let's go look at the horses."

He simply giggled and played with my hair, quite content with that verdict.