Chapter 68j: Saying No
"You're the best, Nee-san!"
I respond to her obvious buttkissing in a way of my own as I allow the throttle to loosen, giving the shitty little engine in my moped reason to roar out its limited road hegemony while I lean over just a little bit to enter the curve faster than we are supposed to.
Hell, my moped itself is faster than it is supposed to be according to the law. It turns out that the legal limit will get you places, sure, but life is quick and being too slow in traffic can be more dangerous than being too fast... and 'fixing' bikes is a pretty common thing.
So obviously, my wheeled steed couldn't be without having its chains removed, either.
Behind me, I hear delighted screaming, her hands tightly wrapped around my waist as we exit the curve. I clock the speedometer just below forty miles per hour; not bad for this little thing given that it is carrying two passengers today.
"Why are we doing this, again?"
I call it out a bit louder than strictly necessary, but between the wind and the roaring between our legs I'd rather play it safe than sorry. Playing telephone when you've got bodies touching is plain awkward.
"Because!"
A sigh escapes me as I brake and turn the bike onto a side path. It is just a small road, but I really don't feel like running into a copper trying to meet the quota that pays for his daily salary. As a bonus, it is considerably more bumpy, and I can hear her voice spluttering in the same frequent cadence offered by the rough bricks of the path underneath us when she shares a bit more.
"It-t just se-eems intere-resting, driving on-one of these, beee-ing all free. I won't be-ee able to forrrr-rrr years!"
Thoughts flit through my mind as I hear that. God, I get it. I've been wanting to get out of that house myself more than once. Clara and Chris are okay people, but geez, are they ever the reformers.
For every bit of trust they extend, there's an equal amount of verification. 'Sure Jen, you can go out with your friends, just be back home in time.'
And then I find out a week later they knew exactly what pub we were hanging out in. Sometimes I wonder how many people they know to always know so much, or if they just like to shadow me for entire evenings.
They remove the proverbial safety net without complaint, but still can't help the need to coddle you with excessive attention the moment you come back home. They are definitely weird parents!
And Setty won't have it much better. She's the younger one. Cute as a button. A magnet that triggers protective instincts to an unreasonable degree, even though she's finally starting to lose that childish innocence as the early traces of adolescence start to colour her thinking.
"Careful, bump!"
I call out the bump I spotted far too late, having been lost in my thoughts and on the auto-pilot of driving for far too much. I can feel her grip me tighter, and the front shock absorbers clearly bottom out as we hit it and gain some actual air time. And then we land, and thankfully this time the shocks manage just fine, meaning I can reduce the throttle and go down to more managable speeds to prevent a repeat scare like this.
"That was so cool!"
I roll my eyes a bit inwardly. We nearly fell flat on our faces, you silly girl, stop raving about it.
Although admittedly... her grip around my waist hasn't let up. Maybe it is just her bravado speaking. She wouldn't know how close we came to accident, right?
Would she try to keep up appearances in a situation like this around Cain? As the thought wanders into my mind, I banish it with prejudice. Shut it, brain. You've got tits and he's got a prick; obviously there will be differences!
Oh. That's where I was at before I got distracted.
Tits.
Yeah. Those will matter. They already do, I've noticed. Setty's been less than subtle at voicing her thoughts about her own future in that regard. As we ride now, I once more remind myself that it is still a sign of her pre-pubescence that I can't really feel her tits pressing into my back.
Whatever the future may hold, I've got to agree with her concerns. Tits matter.
If she's a bloomer, or a bountiful bloomer at that, that protective desire of others is going to shift into a far more possessive and leering experience.
If she's not really going to develop towards the feminine ideal of fertility, then she'll be able to stay the childish cute type for far longer. But I am not sure if that is her; we can't all be good girls our entire lives, and living upto such expectations is a hell in its own right.
Either path, and her life will shift along with it. I know because my genes have firmly pidgeonholed me in the former category, after all.
It is sad that no matter how much we try to live in a society where everyone is the same, women always get ruled by their body one way or the other. I can't even imagine the delight of living as a guy: to live a life where a boner is the worst of my concerns sounds absolutely divine.
"Wha-at are you think-king of?"
I am shaken out of my thoughts by her question. I must have missed something she said for her to think I'm thinking of things.
"You."
Ow! Pinching my waist through my clothes like that is nasty!
"I spoke the truth!"
"But that r-response was so la-ame. Is that how you flirt-t with boys, sis? No wonder you are still single!"
I bring the moped grinding to a halt. She didn't just say that, did she? Wow! She must have realized that sisterly retribution is currently approaching, because her tone shifts ever so subtly together with the flattering that is now spilling out of her.
"But I like your perfume. So mature. And adult-like. It fits you! Boys will like!"
Still, I get off; we've come to a standstill already anyways. I need to stretch my legs, and this gives me a chance to glare at her... but she's just smiling back at me ever so cutely. Is there a measurement for that kind of thing? Degrees of cute? She's got it ramped up to six or so, I reckon.
"What is all this nonsense you are talking now? You know you can just be upfront with me, right?"
I place the nail of my pointing finger into my thumb in a threatening motion, and she instantly raises her hand to protect her forehead. I've seen Cassandra do it to her more than once, and I find it works as a wonderful little threat.
"Let me try your perfume.."
She's giving me those little doe-eyes with that pathetic little whine, and she went straight up to a seven with those. Ugh.
"Fine, but only if you tell me what is really going on in your mind."
She finally hops off of the bike with satisfaction pretty much radiating off, spreading her arms wide in an exaggerated pose to receive the fragrances from the little spritzer I'm taking from my pocket.
I raise an eyebrow at her, but she just grins back at me before making a motion of zipping her lips. She's not going to tell me anything until she's been drowned in sweet scents, huh?
Ugh. How can she still be a seven degrees of cute while being all hardball negotiator with me? That ought to be totally uncute!
Defeated, I finally spritz her a couple of times from a bit of distance. There's no reason to have her be a walking perfume advertisement, right?
Then finally, she opens up to spill out the little mental beans she's been cooking up.
"Okay. Do you remember what you told me about Ann that one time?"
I raise an eyebrow. It can't be good if she's talking about Ann, of all things. That girl is only a good role model when compared to Kathleen, and even that is by the virtue of the latter having stooped as low as to sexually assault men inside a haunted house!
"I don't know if I like the sound of this..."
She still smiles, shaking her head.
"It'll be fiiiine, Nee-san. I just realized that I want to do something for me. A bit more fun and mature. To feel a bit more alive, without Nii-san who might say no, or without those silly fakes calling me out for being unreasonable."
It takes my every bit of effort to not slump. ".. and then you were like, 'Jenny is my ticket to freedom', huh?" I offer her with a wry grimace. I am not sure whether I am to feel flattered or used.
But Setty just laughs. "Nah. You'll be my partner in crime!" she beams, and I find my heart contracting so firmly that I wonder if I shouldn't be fainting because of the unreasonable shock I am feeling.
"Crime..?"
She grins eagerly, her hands squeezed into fists in her excitement. "You've got keys with you, right? Let me borrow them!" Her hand innocently motions towards a nearby driveway that leads to a farm, and I can't help but feel more conflicted as I see the tractor sitting there.
Does she... Keying a tractor? God. Why this? Of all the things, she has to emulate Ann!?
At least it isn't petty theft, so I suppose I should bless myself that she's going for something even more petty and mundane to start her criminal career in the name of her adolescent freedom. But can't she just follow in my footsteps..?
Wait. What the hell am I thinking? Nope! I can't let her do that! Nor that!
"Definitely not!"
My response might be resolute, but her shamelessness is even bigger as she gives me a very affectionate hug, as if she's afraid I'll step out of her embrace.
"Pretty please, Nee-san? I won't tell. Just you and me..."
That's nearing an outright nine. God. Wasn't it just the other day that I was the one coaxing her to take that vaccination like a big girl? When did the tables turn..?
Saying no to this kind of earnest pleading from her is just so wrong. But so is vandalism!
But she'll hate me if I turn her down. As her sister, I am supposed to have her back when she's hurting or feeling weak. She's hurting, right? She's got to be. I need to be there for her.
Through thick and thin.
"Okay. BUT..!" I say, stressing my voice before her elation totally wipes away all my desire to keep a moral upper ground to lord over her, "... we don't key. We... uh... let's use some of the manure in the field over there and wipe the windows of the tractor with it. Isn't that way nastier..?"
And it is something a simple water hose will instantly fix. Fuck yes, I'm a genius! No material damages!
"But then I'll smell like poop. Literally!"
Ah, crud. My response ends up being the first thing that comes to mind. "Well, we can just go find a shovel, or maybe we can find some other way do it. Or are you too chicken to put effort into your little act of evil?"
Wait, why am I talking her into it now?
"But villains don't smell like poop!" she responds strongly in the midst of my realization, her lips contorted into that upset little brat expression that is so adorable when you aren't at the receiving end of it.
"Then maybe we're not meant to be villains, huh?"
I grin back at her, and I can see her teeter on the edge of indecision. She wants to, yet doesn't want to, even though she wants to.
Being that damn cute should be a crime!