by Ali Novak
“No. I don’t know, maybe.” He pulled his hand through his hair.
A long sigh hissed out of my mouth. “That’s completely unfair.”
“Trust me, I know.”
“So how long do you think they’ll be pissed?” I asked quietly.
“I don’t know, a week maybe?” he said somewhat uncertainly as he gave me a sideways glance. “I can try and talk some sense into them.”
“Thanks, Nathan,” I said, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “That would really mean a lot.”
I wanted to tell him that it was stupid that he even had to put in a word for me, but I knew it was no use. If there was anything that I’d learned about the Walter boys so far, it was that they were unpredictable. I couldn’t force my tight, neat world where everything made sense upon them. They lived by their own strange set of rules, and somehow I was going to have to learn to work within those boundaries and still strive for perfection.
***
Back in my room, I found Cole standing next to my dresser, studying the different picture frames I’d arranged on top.
“Who’s that?” he asked, staring down at my sister in the way most boys did.
Lucy was flawless. There was no other way to describe her. She could roll out of bed in the morning, her long, straight black hair looking as if she just stepped out of the salon. I never once saw her put on makeup—she didn’t need to. Her skin was always porcelain smooth, with a natural pink blush over her cheeks. But it wasn’t just Lucy’s beauty that made her so astonishing.
She was a natural when it came to modeling, and for that reason my mother loved her. Lucy always knew just the right way to move her body—a slight turn of the neck or curve of the leg—to create the most dramatic pose. Her eyes always shined as if they were flirting with the camera, and her smile was big and bold. In my mother’s eyes, Lucy was a dream, everything a fashion designer could want from a daughter.
We were only a year apart, and still I looked at her in a “you’re so big and wise” sort of way, like freshmen do seniors on the first day of high school. Maybe it was because everything she did was so natural, as if she had been born knowing something that the rest of us didn’t. Each year after my birthday, we would be the same age for exactly eleven days, and each time I would think, this is it. I’m finally going to feel as old and smart as Lucy. Somehow I would suddenly know the things she did, and then my mom would notice me too. But then Lucy’s birthday would come and she would magically skip ahead five years, fifteen going on twenty, always out of my reach.
In my heart, I knew I could never be like my sister—we were just too different. She was like our mom, carefree and personable, while I was like our dad, calculating and serious. I don’t remember when I came to the conclusion, but I realized that if I could be as successful as my dad, my mom would start to love me the way she did Lucy. After all, she fell in love with him even though they were opposites.
That was the start of my obsession with being perfect. If I was going have the kind of career that my father did, there was no room for mistakes. I started planning out my life. First, I would graduate as valedictorian of my class. Next, I would attend Princeton University, same as my father, and intern with a top New York corporation. Then I could start working at my father’s company, my rightful legacy.
I dropped my toiletries on the desk. “Lucy. She’s my sister.”
Fully expecting some inappropriate remark about how bangable she was, I was caught off guard when Cole set the frame back in its place and replied, “You look like her.”
“I—thanks.”
It was the nicest compliment that someone had paid me in a long time. Not because Cole thought I looked like my sister, who was one of the most beautiful girls I knew, but because it made me feel like I was carrying part of my sister with me.
Cole turned to face me, not even noticing how much his words had affected me, softening my aching heart, even if it was only by the slightest bit. But then again, maybe he did know. He was clearly aware of how girls acted around him all of the time, and perhaps he was good at picking up on sudden changes in people, like shallow breathing and twitching hands. Either way, he didn’t hint at it.
“Just wanted to check on you,” he said, heading toward the door. “Make sure Isaac or Lee didn’t kill you or anything.”
I nodded my head to indicated that yes, I was still breathing. “Nathan told me about your guys’ honor code or whatever he called it,” I told him, my voice low. “I didn’t know. I only wanted to clarify to your mom what happened, but Isaac just—”
“You don’t have to explain yourself, Jackie,” Cole said flatly. “If I were in your position, I would have done the same thing.”
“So you guys won’t be giving me the silent treatment, then?”
“I’m not. Nathan clearly isn’t either,” he said, heading toward my bedroom door. “You’ll be fine. Just remember the rule in the future.”
“Okay,” I said, nodding my head. “Thanks.”
“No, I should be the one thanking you.”
“For what?”
“For surprising me.”
“Surprising you?”
Cole smiled. “I fully expected I’d have to fork over those five dollars to Isaac. I’m glad you’re not as predictable as I thought.” He shut the door before I could process what he said. When he was gone, it hit me. Cole had known about the bet all along.
Chapter 6
Jackie, save me.
I scrambled up in my bed with a start and quickly reached for the lamp on my bedside table. The darkness in the room was suffocating, and I wasn’t able to suck in a deep breath of air until the yellow light met my eyes. My pajamas clung to my drenched skin, and my sister’s voice was still echoing in my ears. It was the nightmare, the same one as always. It started the same every time, with us all in the car on a peaceful day, everyone enjoying a ride together. Then an unknown force would rip me from my seat, and I would be helpless to do anything but watch as the earth swallowed up my family.
It was too early to go for a run, but my heart was hammering and I knew that I would toss and turn until sunrise. Pushing the covers back, I decided to go down to the kitchen, hoping that a glass of warm milk with honey would calm my nerves. It was something Katherine made for me when we were in New York. The nerves I had about moving to Colorado made my nightmares worse than normal, and one night I screamed us both awake.
I crept down the stairs quietly. It was even harder than during the daytime, because the lack of light made it impossible to see any of the junk on the steps. The stuff must have bred there—each time I went up or down, there was some new movie or book or game.
When my foot connected with a ball, I sucked in a deep breath as it clattered down the stairs, taking a few other items with it. I held my breath even after it came to a rest; I wanted to be positive that no one had heard the racket. Even though Cole said everything was okay, I knew that some of the boys were probably still mad at me, and I didn’t want to make anything worse by waking them up in the middle of the night.
Reaching the bottom without another incident, I made my way down the front hall where a soft, blue glow led the way. When I reached the kitchen, I heard the almost inaudible noise from the TV.
“Hello?” I whispered, moving toward the living room.
When I stepped onto the soft carpet, I saw that TV was turned on to a crime show—a detective was inspecting a bloody corpse on screen. The couch pillows were slopped onto the floor and a bag of chips was sitting open on the coffee table, but the room was empty.
My not-so-subtle descent down the stairs didn’t wake anyone, but it did warn whoever was up that I was coming. There seemed to be another insomniac in the house besides myself, and judging from his withdrawn personality, I knew exactly who he was.
***
It was the end of the school
week, and we were supposed to be finishing up our art project in class. Each group was to present the finished project on Monday, but Heather, Riley, and I were nowhere close to being done. We’d chosen to do a photography collage, but after checking out a camera to use, we didn’t make any progress. Heather and Riley were distracted, constantly asking me questions about the Walters.
“Is Isaac a boxer or briefs kind of guy?” Heather asked, pulling her bubble gum in a long string past her lips before letting it spring back inside her mouth.
“How would I know that?” I said, trying to adjust the focus on our camera. I still couldn’t figure out how to make everything look less blurry when I looked through the lens. I wanted to scream.
“You live with him,” Riley pointed out, as if I spent all my free time at the Walters’ house riffling through their underwear drawers. Now that I thought about it, Heather probably would.
“Yes, for like a week,” I reminded her. “Can we please focus? I need to get a good grade on this project.”
“Relax, Jackie,” Riley said in her Southern drawl. “This is art class. Nobody ever gets bad grades in art class. Not ever.”
“Unless we don’t turn in our project…”
“Don’t worry,” Heather chimed in. “It will get done.”
“When? We have”—I paused to look up at the clock—“exactly twenty minutes to finish ours and we haven’t taken one picture.”
“I don’t know,” Riley told me. “We just will.”
“Oh. My. God!” Heather cried a second later. “I have the most brilliant idea ever! Why don’t we finish the project at the Walters’ house this weekend? We could even do a sleepover!”
Riley frowned in disapproval. “I don’t know, Heather,” she said slowly. “It’s kinda rude to invite ourselves over, especially since we just met Jackie.”
A jolt of excitement coursed through me. Not only would a sleepover be the perfect solution to our project crisis, but it also could be my chance to cement myself into this group of friends. Even with Lucy’s help—she introduced me to everyone she knew at Hawks—it was never easy for me to make friends. Without her now, it was going to be even harder for me to meet people.
I swallowed the lump in my throat as I thought about my sister. Having Riley and Heather over would be a good thing. Maybe I could ask Katherine after school if they could stay over Saturday. It was almost as if Lucy was with me, urging me to bond with these new people.
“No, no, it’s fine!” I burst out, looking around at the group. “I’ll just ask Mrs. Walter if we can have a sleepover when I get home today. Is Saturday okay with you both?”
Riley studied me for a moment, unsure, so I forced a bigger smile onto my face. “I suppose so,” she finally said after a long moment of hesitation. “I’m gonna have to pick out my cutest pajamas.”
***
Later that day, after Katherine had agreed to the sleepover and I called Riley to tell her the good news, I made my way downstairs with the intention of thanking Katherine for letting my friends come over. As I neared the kitchen, I heard an angry voice.
“But, Aunt Kathy, she’s only been living here for a week, and you’re letting her invite friends into our home?”
“Lee,” Katherine said with a disapproving tone, “how can you say such a thing?”
“It’s not like it’s her house to invite people to.”
“Honey, that poor girl has no family. This is her home now, whether you like it or not. I’m just trying to put a little happiness into an awful situation, and you should be doing the same. You of all people should understand that.”
I came to a halt so fast it felt like I was on a roller coaster, the safety bar jerking me back as the ride came to a sudden end.
“Come on, Aunt Kathy—”
I didn’t stay long enough to hear what Lee said. He was right—this wasn’t my home and I certainly would never fit in here. I swept back up the stairs, not caring if I sent a few DVDs flying down in my wake, and hurtled down the hallway toward my room. I was moving with such momentum that when I crashed into something rock hard, I was sent sprawling back on my butt.
“Son of a…” Cole grumbled. He was rubbing his head, his jaw clenched in pain, as we both sat on the floor in a daze. When he glanced over and realized that I was on the ground next to him, he shook his head. “Damn girl, for someone so short, you’re like a mini bulldozer.”
“Sorry,” I replied and scrambled to my feet. My head had that light, whooshing feeling when you stand up too fast, and there were black dots blinking in front of my eyes, but I pushed past Cole, determined to make it to my room.
“Hey, New York! Wait up,” he called out. I could feel him stumbling after me, but I didn’t stop, throwing open my door with such force that it slammed into the wall, rattling the bookcase nearest it. “Jackie, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I lied, trying to slam the door shut before he could get in.
“That,” said Cole, while sticking his foot in the path of the closing door, “is complete bullshit.”
“I don’t really want to talk about it right now, okay?” I said, practically begging him to understand. I didn’t want to be with anyone at the moment. He couldn’t see my tears. Nobody could.
“Was it something I did?” he asked in confusion. I was willing to bet that no girl had ever turned down his shoulder to cry on before.
I shook my head.
“Hold on,” he said, and there was that look in his eyes, the one I was so afraid of. It was the poor Jackie look. I clenched my fists in anticipation, knuckles cracking as I waited for him to mention my family. But he didn’t. “Is this about the whole sleepover thing?” asked Cole.
I blinked back at him. It wasn’t what I was expecting him to say, which was a relief, but if he already knew about the sleepover, it meant that gossip spread like wildfire in this house.
“It is, isn’t it?” Cole said when I didn’t respond.
It’s not just about that, I wanted to correct him. It’s that my family is dead, and that you know. “Did Lee tell you?” I responded instead. “He doesn’t really like me, does he? It was a bad idea anyway. I shouldn’t be overstepping.”
Back in New York, after my breakdown, I taught myself how to control my feelings. It was vital to my future success because I could never lose myself like that again. So I built a wall inside my mind to keep back my flood of emotions. But here, it was harder to maintain. The Walters’ house was like nothing I had ever experienced before: disorganized, rowdy, and unpredictable. Without a proper foothold, some type of steadiness, I was losing myself in the chaos. Lee’s comment had put a crack in my wall, and I felt like the whole thing was going to shatter.
“Jackie, you can’t listen to Lee,” he said in calm, clear-cut voice, the kind people use to convince you of something. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Just ignore him.”
I nodded mechanically as I stared past him. Sure, I understood what Cole was trying to say, some sympathetic form of assurance, but it didn’t matter what he told me. It was kind of like when people apologized to me at my family’s funeral—it was just words, a script that they all were required to recite. They said they were sorry, but in reality they could never really comprehend what I was going through. So it didn’t matter if Lee was only being mean and I should disregard him, because he was speaking the truth.
And then it was almost as if Cole understood what I was thinking. “Hey,” he said, putting both of his hands on my shoulders. He gave me a little shake, forcing me to look back at him. “I’m really sorry my cousin is being such a jerk. Let me make it up to you.”
***
“These are the horse stables,” Cole said, holding the door open for me. He’d offered to give me a tour of the ranch, and I agreed. I needed someone, anyone to take my mind off things.
I could see the stables from m
y bedroom window. When I noticed the main building from afar, I presumed that it was just a barn, but now as I stepped inside, I realized that it was much bigger. The first thing that hit me was the smell of animals and hay. It was overwhelmingly pungent—the kind of smell that was so heavy you could feel it in your lungs when you breathed in.
We were standing at the front of a long row, stalls on either side of us. A few were empty, but huge animals occupied the rest, snorting and swishing their tails. They varied in color from dark brown to soft gray, but to me, they were all equally daunting. I could feel Cole directly behind me, and for some strange reason, I found that reassuring.
“Besides the horses,” he told me in an easy voice, “the best thing about this place is the loft.”
He coaxed me forward, his hand a guiding pressure on my back. As we made our way to the other side of the stables, Cole pointed out the different horses, telling me each of their names. In one of the stalls, a man was brushing down a black mare that Cole called Raisin, and when he heard us, the man glanced up and nodded in our direction.
“Who’s that?” I whispered as we continued walking.
“Just one of the stable hands,” Cole told me. “My dad has a lot of employees. It takes quite a few people to run a ranch, and my brothers and I can’t always be there to help him with the work.”
By the time we reached the end of the stalls, I’d counted twenty-four horses in all. Cole had stopped in front of a wooden ladder and I craned my neck, trying to see what was on the second level. Stepping onto the first rung, he started to climb. About halfway up, he looked at me over his shoulder.
“You coming, Jackie?”
I climbed up after him, which was harder than it looked in my pencil skirt. When I reached the top, Cole offered me his hand and pulled me into the loft. The boys had clearly redone the space. I hadn’t known what to expect—maybe bales of hay—but instead there was a shabby blue rug on the floor, two couches, an old TV on a coffee table, and one of Katherine’s ever-present murals decorating the walls. A pile of board games was stacked in the corner, but judging by the layer of dust on top, the games hadn’t been touched in a long time.
