The first few days after that were rough. I was in a terrible mood, and avoided them both at all costs. I was angry and miserable, craving an escape I knew I couldn’t have. During my explorations of new hiding places, I discovered the stash of canned fruit.

I had made toilet wine before–hooch, to the posh–as a dare when I was a teenager. We heard rumors it would make you go blind, and being the stupid kids we were, we wanted to see how true it was.

It was a simple enough process. So I collected bits and pieces, creating my distillery in the basement. First you made your must, a mixture of pulped up fruit or whatever else you could find. Luckily, Felix had plenty of canned fruit. He also had lots of the other important ingredient, yeast. Put the two of those together in some glass jars where the yeast can ferment the fruit, and wham bam thank you ma’am, you have hooch. Just don’t ask me to explain the science behind it. I didn’t realize I had to add sugar to make it more palatable, but I didn’t care much at first. All I knew was it got me drunk.

My setup had served me well for nearly two decades. But my high was about to come to a complete stop, because my stash of fruit was nearly gone. I counted the jars of preserves, knowing I had barely enough for another week, maybe two if I stretched it. And this time, I had more than just my high to lose. Would Savannah still love me if I wasn’t the easy-going, loveable dude she had come to know me as?

We hadn’t said I love you yet, but who were we kidding? It was only a matter of time. But she loved the me she thought I was. Happy. Unbothered. Easy. Just like everyone else had before the house. They never loved the real me. The unlucky Theo. They only wanted a piece of the lucky Theo, the one who passed out hooch before home room, and never turned down a dare.

I counted my jars again, praying for another one to miraculously appear. A ridiculous idea, really. Curses were the only thing that happened out of thin air. Blessings you had to work for.