My Brother Is Ashley Purdy

“Hey, Alex.”

I mumble a “hey” as I stash my bag and board in the back seat. It’s a small brown Toyota, yet there always seems to be enough space. I climb in the front seat and pull my knees to my chin and cover my face. The adrenaline is wearing off and suddenly I feel drained.

“You okay?”

I grunt and pinch my thighs to stop myself from shaking. It’s not working.

“Umm, Alex?”

“Gn.”

“…Alex.”

“Will you just drive?” I snap, looking up at last. At first I thought she was looking at me, but her eyes don’t meet mine. She’s looking behind me.

“…Is that Ashley P-Purdy?”

I groan.

He’s like right next to the car, tapping on the window. I roll the window down one inch and look up at him expectantly. “What do you want?”

Lonnie is gawping at us. Yes, she’s also a fan.

“To talk. Look, Alexandra – ”

“Alex. My name is Alex.”

“Alex—”

“What?”

He sighs, pushing his long hair out of his eyes.

I open the door abruptly and he stumbles back, taken by surprise.

“Well? What do you want? A fucking family reunion? I don’t know what to say to you. I honestly don’t understand what you expected to find.”

“Where are you planning on going?”

“None of your business.”

“I came down here to ask if you wanted to come back to California with me, seeing as you’re… uh…”

I narrow my eyes. He’s kidding, right?

Lonnie’s face is practically glued to the window by this point.

“Sure!” Load://> Sarcasm. “I’ll just take my shit and move down to LA with a stranger. Will I have too sleep on your black leather couch? And stay by myself when you have band practices? Hide in a room when you bring girls home and have alcohol parties? I mean, it does sound like a lot of fun.”

He opens his mouth to interrupt but I get there first.

“Don’t. You know that’s the truth. You’re 24. It’s completely normal, but you can’t actually believe you can take a minor in just like that.”

“What the fuck is going on?”

Dammit, Lonnie.

I glare at her but I’m surprised to see she looks mad. She looks briefly at me and sighs quietly. Ooh, she’s doing the thing where she sticks up for me. Cool.

“Did you come alone?” she asks.

Good question, actually.

“No, uh… Andy’s waiting for me. Over there,” he waves across the street. As if on cue, a car flashes us.

“Andy Biersack is here?”

“Lonnie, shut up.”

Ashely takes my hand and although he’s gentle, I snarl and push him away in the nearest car.

“I don’t know if you can’t tell by now, but touch me and I’ll castrate you. Lonnie.”

“But shouldn’t – ”

“No. Now, please.”

“Alex – ”

“Bye, Purdy.”

Lonnie hisses something and runs in the car. I slam the door behind me and close my eyes as the car starts moving.

It’s nice and quiet for about 10 seconds. Then, “Care to explain?!”

No, not really.

Well, it’s just one person. And she’s not the type to spread the word.

“He’s my brother.”

Another 10 seconds of silence.

I winch when she starts screaming.

“Lonnie, please shut the fuck up. Listen, just drive to a motel.”

“What?”

“I’m exhausted and angry and I need time to think where I’m gonna go and what I’m gonna do. All I want right now is a bed and 7 cheeseburgers and a Monster and horror movies and a strong drink but I can’t because I’m fucking underage.”

“But how do you know him, Alex?”

I sigh.

“I don’t, okay? He just showed up in my apartment. Look, I know you’re going back to California tomorrow, and I know that you haven’t started packing. So please, shut the fuck up and just drive so you can go back.”

I close my eyes and ignore her rambling. After a while, I think I fall asleep. ..

__________________
“Alex.”

I groan. I was having such a good dream. I think I was drunk.

“Alex!”

“What, dammit?” I snap, opening my eyes and squinting because of the strong light.

“We’re here. What would you like?”

I blink a few times before understanding. We’re at a McDonalds drive through.

“A large coke.” Just the smell of oil makes me nauseous.

She makes the corner.

“Hi, what can I get you today?”

“Uh, yeah. Can I have a happy meal with plain burger, two double cheeseburgers, a big mac – hold the mayo – Dr. Pepper and coke – oh, and coke for the happy meal as well, sorry. And, uh, a McFlurry?

“Sure, caramel, chocolate, oreos or M&Ms?”

“All four.”

“That will cost extra, ma’am.”

“That’s fine.”

“Okay, so a happy meal with coke, two double cheeseburgers, a big mac with no onions, a large coke and Dr. Pepper, and a McFlurry with all four topics. Fries are included.”

“Sorry, yes to onions on the big mac, just no mayo.”

“Oh, sorry. Okay. Would you like to supersize anything?”

I’m breathing deep and hard, trying to control the rising anxiety attack. What the hell have I done? I think Lonnie looks at me because she’s quiet for a second.

“Yeah, the ice cream.”

“Anything else?”

“Extra ketchup.”

I think I’m in shock. My mind is numb and I’m not sure in which reality I’m currently in.

“Lonnie—”

“Shush.”

Why is she doing this? I frown, trying to get my foggy brain to function. Is it because I accidently saved her life? I can vaguely remember. We were skyping and she got mad at something I said (and what I said was right and she knew it) so she threatened to kill herself or something. And she didn’t believe me when I told her that I dialed 911. The look of complete shock on her face when those people in white burst in her room was hilarious.

“Where are we going?”

“Shut up.”

I groan and close my eyes.

“Fuck, missed it.”

The car makes a sharp U-turn, making me hang on to dear life, and the sixteen bags filled with food with I had been trusted to protect. I narrow my eyes when I see where she’s heading to.

“Lonnie—”

“Alex,” she grins.

“Don’t be an idiot.”

“Don’t be a worry pussy.”

“Worry pussy?”

“Just shut the fuck up.”

She’s parking in front of a liquor store. Did I mention that we’re both 16?

“Here. Happy early birthday.”

She throws an envelope at me and I groan, knowing. Crazy son-of-a-bitch.

Just out of curiosity, I peek inside at the card.

The words Venice Moore and 26 Dec 1992 stand out and I close my eyes, exasperated. She used one of my old Facebook pictures but edited the filter out.

I should start yelling. Tell her she’s crazy. Tell her she’s even crazier if she thought I’d actually use it. Tell her she wasted her money. Throw the card out the window.

But right now, I honestly don’t give a fuck what happens.

Something else makes me narrow my eyes.

“The 26th? Seriously?”

“I thought that it’ll be easier to remember it that way, since it’s right after Christmas.”

“Oh, so you based the date solely on the holiday, and not on Biersack’s birthday?”

She grins and stops the car.

“Round it up, bitch.”

___________________
I slouch back in my seat. Lonnie does the same and exhales loudly. Maybe it's because of my inability to give a fuck, but I don't feel the need to do the same. The guy behind the counter was too busy staring at Lonnie's rack to notice my bare face and hello kitty shirt. For fuck's sake, I've been told multiple times that I look older, but tonight (maybe because of the stress and shit) I barely look over 13.

"So while you were busy..browsing... I made an executive decision."

"Do you even know the definition if 'executive'?"

"I don't wanna argue with you. You're coming back to my place tonight."


"No."


"Yes," she snaps. "I’m not sure if you noticed, but my parents don't exactly give a shit about me. Why do you think I'm here? They kicked me out last month and I've been on my own. My brother lent me some money to survive and now you're my sister. I adopted you just now so deal with it."

They kicked her out? Holy shit. My head is swimming and now I'm hungry.

"I don't wanna discuss this now. I need food in my system. And blood and gore. And the vodka."


"Coming right up."

---

I felt like a right fool when I entered the Hilton lobby in my baggy jeans and backpack and McDonalds bags, feeling out of place surrounded by those rich assholes and bitches wearing legit gowns and looking superior to the human race.

The people behind those big desks gave me weird looks but Lonnie grabbed me by the arm and marched me to the elevators. I dashed inside the moment the doors opened, almost knocking a couple right over.

Lonnie giggled and pressed 23 on the board.

----------

I glance around. Two huge king sized beds dominate the room. One has Lonnie's clothes and other modeling crap on them. There's a massive plasma TV with a mahogany coffee table under it with a basked of fresh fruit on it. Some magazines and a menu.

There's a walk in closet opposite from the bathroom door.

Two sofa chairs in a corner with a glass table between them.

The bathroom is equipped with both a shower and a bath, two sinks, an automatic toilet, and about 100 square feet of empty space. It looks like it came out straight out of those interior designer magazines.

Everything is white and gold. The type of furniture that makes you nervous in case you mark it.

Lonnie apparently doesn't give a toss about her filth because all she does it take her sneakers off and shuffles towards the minibar. She grabs an armful of nuts and M&Ms and tequila and jumps on the bed.

I drop my bag and board in a corner, tossing the McDonald food at her. They're hers, after all.

"I... Uh, bathroom."

"Sure."

I lock myself in and lean on the door. I close my eyes and slowly sink in the marble floor.

My mother had sex when she was 18, even though she repeatedly told me she was a virgin until the age of 25, when she had me. Maybe she was raped. I am related to Ashley Purdy. I am completely on my own. I met my best friend online. She has orange hair. I just used a fake ID to buy tequila.

I get the biggest urge to giggle, so I do. I laugh hard, clenching my head.

What even is life?

What am I gonna do for money? And school? My dream was to get into NYU. Have I blown my chance? Probably. I was aiming for a full scholarship since I'm broke as fuck, and now any chance that I had is gone.

I'm not a perfect student. I have A's in art and theatre and English and history and B's in math and science and economics and shit. I guess it's a big deal since all my classes are AP, but still.

I'm overthinking again. Right now I need alcohol.

I wipe my face and go back in the main room. Lonnie's watching Bridezilla and eating the bigmac.

"Hey, you," she squints at me. "Did you cry?"

I shake my head, offended. I don't cry.

"I laughed."

"Laughed?"

"Laughed."

"Here, come eat."

"Those are yours."

"Don't annoy me. I bought food for the both of us."

I open my mouth to tell her fine, but I'm paying you back, but she beat me to it.

"If this is about money I'll throw you out that window. I have plenty of cash."

"That's not the point."

"Alex, the company pays me more than they should. I said I'd quit, see, so in order to make me stay they started paying me more. Trust me, you're covered."

"I don't like owning people."

"I don't wanna talk money with you. Yet. Okay, listen. I got $6000 on top of my monthly pay."

"Congratulations," I mutter through gritted teeth. I never had a lot of money and it pisses me off when people boast.

"Lighten up, alright? Do you want a job or not?"

"What?"

"Listen. What did you do last year when you got back into art?"

"Bought supplies?"

"Exactly! 'Cause you wanted to start properly, didn't you?"

"I suppose so. But what does--"

"We're going clothes' shopping tomorrow. And makeup. And hair. And then I'll write you a letter of recommendation and you'll get the job and we'll go back to L.A. and find a place to live."

"What about school?"

"What about school?"

"I wanna get into college, Lonnie. You should too. You can't model all your life."

She's quiet for a minute, obviously put off. She sighs. "I know. You're right."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Look, we'll figure it out later, okay?"

"Okay."

“Good. Now dump all of that,” she motions at the mountain of clothes on the other bed, “on the floor and hop in. I have Netflix ready.”

I don’t move.

She sighs and jumps up, grabbing armfuls of clothes and throwing them in the general direction of her suitcases.

“There, happy?”

“Very.”

“Now shut up, get in, here’s some food, the vodka’s on the night table, and enjoy.”
I do as I’m told.

A few hours later I’m asleep, despite having watched children being skinned alive and being burnt for religious reasons.

…

…

…

My eyes snap open. I blink a few times, feeling slight pressure under my eye lids. My contacts!

Holy shit, I slept with them on!

I frown at myself. I’m not supposed to do that. I have dailies, which means I change my contacts every day, and I shouldn’t leave them on for longer than 16 hours or something.

Oh, crud. Did I remember to pack my eye box? With my glasses and contacts and shit? I’m afraid to go look, but my eyes are burning so I have no choice.

Holy fuck, if I forgot them I am screwed. I’m blind as a bat, and I refuse to go back home.

My hand snakes in my backpack and I find my toiletries bag. I pull it out and go to the bathroom. The sudden light makes me hiss in annoyance. I go to the sink and dump everything on the counter. I sigh in relief when the pouch falls out. I take my contacts out and out my glasses out.

I’ll be dizzy for a few minutes from the change but I force myself to calculate how many contacts I have left. And they’re, what? $80 for two boxes of 30? Thank god both my eyes are equally fucked and that I don’t have different dioptrics.

I count the little plastic caps. I have around 42 left. 21 days. I need to stop at a pharmacy tomorrow and order another couple of boxes.

Meanwhile, I’m pretty sure it’s sometime around 4, maybe 5am, so I quietly exit the bathroom and try not to die as my feet get tangled in Lonnie’s damned clothes.

I sigh when my back hits the soft mattress and I will myself to relax.

…

“I came down here to ask if you wanted to come back to California with me, seeing as you’re… uh…”

…

I shake my head. Don’t be ridiculous, Alex. He doesn’t really mean it.

Yeah, okay, but you would meet Andy Biersack.

I don’t care. Keep your perfect biological corporal features away from my asexuality.

You’re not asexual.

Am too.

Are not.

Demisexual, then. I will not go to California based on a person’s looks. Are you crazy?

Hey, you’re the one having a mental argument with yourself.

Whatever. Fuck you. And FYI? Now that I’m supposedly related to Purdy has completely put me off the entire band.

You could form a band.

Whatever, be quiet, I’m exhausted.

No, no, listen. You know you always wanted to form a band, right? Well, this time, you could, you know…

The brain processes ideas faster than mental conversations, so I know what I could do before putting it into actual words.

I sit up straight in bed.

Oh my god.

I’m a genius. Again.

And it would only require about an hour of convincing Lonnie, and lying till the wits’ end. Good enough.

Oh, and, uh, talent. Yeah, you need talent for a band.

How good are my acting skills? Well, I convinced my physics teacher to let me redo that
midterm because I so totally happened to be sick and totally not bribing others to tell me the answers.

This might not sound as much, but you need to consider that my physics teacher is some kind of a 3000 years old nazi who fought in the second world war and who thinks that if you miss something, then sucks to be you. If you happened to die and didn’t turn in the homework on time, he’s fail you.

So yeah, there’s that.

I could totally pull my master plan off. But I need Lonnie. There’s no way I’m doing it by myself.

…

“Lonnie.”

She mumbles something and turns over. I look at the clock which reads 4:58AM and bite my lip.

“Lonnie!”

“Ghn, whawt?”

“How, uh, do you wanna go down to California?”

He sighs in exasperation. “That was kinda the plan, idiot. Now shut the fuck up.”

“No, what I meant was,” I try again.

She’s snoring. The little asshole fell asleep.

“Lonnie!”

“What?” she snaps.

“Wanna go down to California to live with my totally talented brother and totally hot friends who so happen to be in a band and therefore we can get our band to play? In front of actual people?”

“What?” she asks dazed. “What are you talking about?”

I turn on the lamp, making her shriek. I giggle.

“Listen, he did offer that I go live with him, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Yeah, well I could bring you, sis, down with me, right?”

“What’s this gotta do with our non-existent band, though?”

“Well, here’s the thing. We could use him to play at a Warp Tour or something. All we need is connections, right?”

“Yeah, and an actual band.”

“Yeah, we can work on that later. I thought you also wanted a band!”

“Yeah, but, I don’t know Alex. I don’t think he’ll let you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, like I saw his face when you yelled at him about bringing girls home and drinking…”

“I didn’t yell.”

“Well, yeah, but what I mean is that… Well, I dunno, but I saw his face. He looked offended as hell. Like, I think he’ll be like an overprotective brother, you know? Like, he’ll take the responsibility very seriously.”

I roll my eyes.

“But,” she musters.

“Yeah?”

“We can play that off nicely,” she grins.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. We can make out that we were both PMS’ing and that we actually don’t like bands at all or something and be super girly—”

I snort.

“…Yeah, and then we could go for it.”

Girly? She wants me to be girly. I’m a combination of a tomboy in skinny jeans. I don’t do girly.

“Alex?”

...

“Fine, whatever,” I sigh and turn off the light.

She can’t keep in her squeal. “This is gonna be so much fun!”

“How is it gonna be fun, exactly?”

“Well, we’re gonna so totally be Good Girls when in actual fact we’re bad.”

“But haven’t been caught yet?”

“Exactly!” she giggles.

She starts singing the song and I attempt to harmonize. She gasps dramatically. “Hey, that actually sounds pretty good!”

“Go to sleep, Mrs. Hemmings.”

“Yes, Miss. Alex Purdy!”

“Oh my god, don’t!” But I can’t help laughing.

Notes