My Life with the Walter Boys

by Ali Novak

  “Jackie?” someone asked as I poked my head up through the floor.

  Startled, I let out a scream and my foot slipped. There was a flutter in my stomach as I lost my balance, but my hand shot out and caught the top rung of the ladder before I crashed to the ground.

  “Give me your hand,” Alex said, his face appearing above me through the hole. I reached toward him, and he gripped my wrist, yanking me up into the safety of the tree house. We both collapsed onto the floor, chests heaving.

  “I almost fell out of the tree,” I said in disbelief.

  “And I almost died of a heart attack,” he replied. “You scared the shit out of me.”

  “Sorry,” I gasped, still out of breath. My heart was pounding so hard that my chest hurt. “I didn’t know anyone was up here.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Being curious,” I said. “I’ve never been in a tree house before.”

  My heart was finally starting to slow down, and I had a chance to take in my surroundings. The small room was washed in calm, green shade, and despite its lack of air-conditioning, the foliage outside kept the space cool. There were two tiny windows, one of which had a telescope screwed into the sill.

  On the wall was what looked like a hand-drawn map of the ranch, but the imagination of a child had clearly created it. The pool was called Poison Lagoon, the Walters’ house was the Black Fortress, and the tree house was Woodland Sanctuary. A plastic toy sword was leaning in the corner, and small crates for sitting were arranged around the floor.

  “Never?” Alex asked. He propped himself up onto his elbows to get a better look at me.

  “I’m from New York City, remember?”

  “Don’t you have trees there?” he joked.

  “There’s a potted bamboo tree in our lobby,” I said, still examining the map on the wall. “But I don’t think it would make much of a tree house.” Underneath the drawing of the waterfall, I could barely make out the scribble of words: Mermaid’s Cove. A treasure chest was colored onto the sand with jewels dripping out over the edge.

  “It’s so strange to think that you didn’t have a backyard,” Alex said. “I mean, I practically lived outside when I was a kid. My dad helped me build this when I was eight.”

  “Even if I did have a backyard, it wouldn’t have mattered,” I said, reaching for the plastic sword. I scooped it out of the corner and swished it in the air. “My dad wasn’t much of a handyman.”

  “He was a businessman, right?” Alex asked.

  Lowering the toy, I tilted my head to the side so I could get a better look at him. Alex was the first Walter to ask me a question about my family. As I stared at him, his entire body went rigid when he realized his mistake. Instead of being sympathetic, he seemed uncomfortable, more so than me, and for some strange reason that put me at ease.

  “It’s okay,” I told him before he tried to apologize.

  He didn’t reply for a moment, and I thought at first that he was going to ignore me. “What do you mean?” he asked carefully.

  “Alex,” I said, pushing myself up into a sitting position. “I can tell by the way you won’t look at me that you feel awkward—about my family.”

  “Oh.” He forced himself to look up at me. “I wasn’t trying to act weird,” he said then. “I just don’t know what to say. I mean, I’ve never known someone who—whose family—” He stopped, unable to finish his sentence.

  “Someone whose family died?” It was the first time I’d said it out loud to any of the boys.

  “Yeah, that.” He held my eyes for a moment before looking away again.

  “Most people just say they’re sorry,” I said, trying to get him to relax. It was a strange feeling. Normally everyone tried to comfort me when my family came up, not the other way around.

  “That’s a strange custom, don’t you think?” Alex asked, which wasn’t what I was expecting him to say. He pulled himself into a sitting position and leaned back against the wall.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Let’s say, for example, that it was an accident,” he said, and by “it” I presumed he meant death. “Then there’s no reason to apologize since it technically isn’t your fault, right? Saying you feel bad makes more sense, but nobody really wants to hear that, do they? Besides, I’m sure not everyone actually feels bad. What if you don’t really know the person who died, but you just feel like you have to say something? That’s not really genuine.”

  Alex was in full-on ramble mode.

  “Alex,” I said, trying to get his attention.

  “Maybe people should just give hugs. Physical contact says a lot without actually saying anything, but I guess people give hugs at funerals anyway. And I’d feel awkward giving you a hug since we barely know each other.”

  “Alex!” I shouted this time and clapped my hands together for emphasis.

  “Huh?” he said, shaking his head. When he noticed me staring at him, he blushed. “Sorry, I tend to talk when I’m nervous.”

  “I can see that,” I said, a small grin curling on my lips. It was honestly the worst condolence someone had ever given me, and yet somehow it worked. “Thanks.”

  When he saw that I wasn’t upset, he smiled back. “No problem.”

  I turned serious again. “You want to know one of the worst things?” I asked, but I didn’t wait for him to respond. “When people treat me differently, like I’m going to break or something. For a second there, I was afraid you were going to get all weird on me.”

  “I’m sorry, Jackie,” he said then, since there was nothing more he could say.

  “Yeah,” I mumbled, more to myself than to him. “Me too.”

  We were quiet for a while, both lost in thought, until I finally worked up the courage to speak again. “So what are you doing up here?”

  This question seemed to make Alex more uncomfortable then talking about my family, and I felt him tense up again, his hands balling into fists at his side. When I looked at him, I realized that something was wrong. There were dark purple marks under Alex’s eyes, like he hadn’t slept all weekend.

  “Hey,” I asked, “what’s wrong?”

  His gaze flickered to the left, and when I followed him with my eyes, I spotted something discarded on the floor—a piece of paper or something. Alex didn’t move, so I slowly reached for it, watching him the whole time to make sure it was okay, but he didn’t indicate that I should stop. When I picked it up, I realized that it was a folded-up photograph, and I carefully smoothed out the crease. I recognized the people in it immediately. There was Alex, grinning at the camera, his arm wrapped around a girl with blond ringlets—the girl from our anatomy class.

  “Her name’s Mary Black,” Alex said without waiting for me to ask. “She’s my ex-girlfriend. We broke up three weeks ago.”

  “I take it you miss her?” I knew it was a lame thing to say. Of course he missed her, but I didn’t know how to properly comfort him. It explained the longing look he gave Mary on my first day of class. Alex nodded his head.

  “Do you think you guys will get back together?” I asked, trying to be positive.

  “I’ve had a crush on her since elementary school,” Alex said instead. “The first time I saw her was in third grade, and I remember holding my breath as she walked by me on the playground. She was wearing this little pink jumper and her hair was hanging down her back in two braids. She couldn’t’ve cared less that all the boys stopped playing kickball just to watch her skip rope with her friends.” The words were spilling out of Alex’s mouth now, so I let him go on without interrupting.

  “I’ll be the first to admit, after that day, I think I was in love, but I never did anything about it. Mary was the type of girl that seemed so unobtainable, and I knew I didn’t stand a chance. I dated a few girls in junior high, nothing serious, and then at the beginning of this year, she sat
next to me in English. On the first day of class, she just popped down next to me and started talking to me like we were good friends, like I hadn’t been crushing on her since forever. After a few weeks, I worked up the courage to ask her to Homecoming, and then we started dating.”

  “So what happened?”

  “She dumped me out of the blue for a different guy.”

  “Ouch. Did you at least find out who it was so you could get a good punch in?” I was only trying to lighten the mood, but I saw anger flash in his eyes.

  “I would have, but she wouldn’t tell me,” Alex said. “So then, imagine my surprise when I come home and see her sitting on the couch watching a movie with Cole.”

  I gasped. “She broke up with you to date your brother?”

  Alex laughed, but it wasn’t a nice one. “Cole doesn’t date,” he said, repeating the same fact that I had already heard multiple times. “For some reason she thought she could change him, but I know Cole better than that. She called me Friday night and told me she’s sorry and wants to get back together.”

  “What did you say?”

  “That I wouldn’t be her consolation prize,” he spat.

  “Alex, I don’t know what to say,” I said uncomfortably. Obviously something was going on between Alex and Cole, and I didn’t want to get in the middle of it. “Why are you even telling me all this?”

  A long time passed before Alex said anything, and at first I thought he wasn’t going to give me an answer. “Look, I know about your family, and now I’ve told you my secret, so we’re even. I know your baggage. You know mine. We can just be normal.” He paused there, as if he needed a moment to collect himself. “I should get going,” he said, picking himself up and moving toward the trapdoor. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

  ***

  For the rest of the day, I couldn’t stop thinking about what Alex had told me. Cole stole his girlfriend. How could he be so callous? As I mulled it all over, I sorted through all the material from all my classes. Since starting at my new school, I hadn’t had a chance to organize anything because life with the Walters meant there was always some unexpected event that kept me from the task. Each class received its own file in my accordion folder, ordered by period with the syllabus always at the front.

  A history assignment slipped from my hands and fluttered to the floor. When I bent down to pick it up, I caught a glimpse through my window of Cole heading toward the second garage. Over the course of the week, I’d noticed that he frequented it every night. Curious, I left the homework on my desk and pulled on a pair of shoes. By the time I made my way across the driveway, Cole had already shut the doors, but I could hear a stream of music from within.

  “Cole?” I knocked, but he didn’t answer. “Hello?” I called out. I rested my hand on the handle, not sure if I should intrude. I knew he was still inside because I could hear him moving around, but I didn’t want to be rude. When I heard the clang of metal on concrete, followed by a stream of swearing, I yanked open the door to make sure he was okay.

  The small space was closer to the size of a shed than an actual garage. Along one wall ran a workbench, covered with different wrenches, ratchets, screwdrivers, and other strange-looking instruments. Above the bench were rows of shelves piled high with car parts, making it look like a Transformer had exploded across the length of wood ledges. A huge black car took up the rest of the space, and its hood was propped open, revealing its guts. Cole was crouched on the floor, picking up the gear that had spilled across the floor when a red toolbox fell to the ground.

  “Everything okay?” I asked, making him jump.

  “God, Jackie!” he exclaimed, glancing up at me and putting both hands on his knees. “Were you trying to scare me?”

  “I knocked,” I said with a shrug before slipping inside the cramped space. “What are you doing?”

  He stood up. “Working.” Cole was wearing a plain white shirt and an old pair of jeans, both of which were covered in grease. There was a red rag hanging from his pocket, and he plucked it out to dab across his brow. “Did my mom send you out here to get me?”

  “No,” I told him as I picked my way around the car. I didn’t want grease on my good silk blouse. “You never showed me this place during my tour.”

  “That’s because nobody is allowed in here,” he said, his face flat. “It’s my space.”

  “Oh,” I said, taken aback by how curt he was being. “Sorry, I didn’t know. I guess I’ll leave now.”

  Cole sighed. “No, it’s okay. I didn’t mean to snap, but Alex has been a dick to me today and I took it out on you.”

  “What happened?” I asked, trying to sound mildly interested. In reality, my ears were perked. When I made the decision to come down to the garage, it was partly because I wanted to find out if Alex’s accusations were true. I knew that the topic would be hard to slip into a conversation, and I hadn’t thought it would actually come up, but now that it had, a spark of excitement shot up my spine.

  “I don’t know,” he said, leaning back against the car. “He’s been a prick for the last few weeks.”

  “I see.” I couldn’t tell if Cole seriously didn’t understand why his brother was mad, or if something else was going on. “So are you going to talk to him?”

  “I already did, but he never listens,” he said as he wrung the dirty cloth in his hands. “Whatever. If he wants to be ignorant, that’s his choice.” Cole crumpled the rag into a ball and tossed it on the workbench. “Can we talk about something else?”

  “Sure,” I said, even though I was dying to know more.

  “All right. Well, now that you’re out here, I might as well show you my baby.”

  “Huh?”

  Cole pulled back the passenger side door for me. “Get in.”

  “Is it clean?” I asked, squinting inside. There wasn’t much light in the garage to begin with, and the lights in the car didn’t turn on when Cole opened the door.

  “I vacuumed the seats,” he said, making his way around the front of the car. “Just get in.”

  Ducking down, I carefully settled in. Cole yanked his door shut, and I followed suit, sealing us in the musty cabin.

  “So this is your baby?”

  “It’s a 1987 Buick Grand National,” he said, running both hands over the steering wheel. “Used to be my grandpa’s.”

  “Am I supposed to be impressed?” I wasn’t trying to be rude, but the car was a bit of a clunker.

  “This is a classic car.”

  “It doesn’t look like much.”

  “Well, it is. And when I finish restoring it, it’s going to run like a dream,” he said, sweeping his hand out in front of him as he imagined his car.

  “So that’s what you’re doing? Fixing it up?”

  “I’m trying to, but it’s expensive,” Cole said, his hand dropping back to his side. “That’s why I work at Tony’s. He pays me with the parts I need.”

  “When did you learn to fix cars?” I didn’t mean to grill him, but this was the first conversation I’d had with Cole where he actually seemed passionate about something.

  “I’ve taken a lot of shop classes in school, but it’s always just come naturally to me,” Cole explained.

  “How long have you been working on it?”

  “On and off since the start of high school.” He paused and then added, “But I’ve really made it a priority since last year.” Cole pressed his lips together, and his eyes turned dark cobalt as he stared out the windshield.

  I took that as a sign not to push any further. “Cool,” I said instead.

  He was obviously thinking about something, because then he shook his thoughts away. “I’m sorry, Jackie,” he said. “I don’t mean to kick you out, but I really wanted to take another crack at the engine before dinner.”

  At first, I didn’t understand what he was saying, but the
n I realized he wanted me to leave. I must have said something wrong. “Oh, okay.” I fumbled in the dark to find the handle, and as I did, my face turned red. When my fingers finally found the smooth metal, I yanked it open as quickly as I could and stepped out.

  “See you later,” he said, but he wasn’t even looking at me. His gaze was still focused out the window.

  “Yeah, bye.”

  I hurried out of Cole’s garage, but when I got to the front porch, I glanced back over my shoulder. It was hard to spot him in the shadows, but the mop of blond hair gave him away. He was still sitting in the front seat—he hadn’t moved at all.

  Chapter 8

  “Cole, catch,” said Isaac, throwing the car keys to his cousin as we all trudged down the porch steps. It was Monday morning, and we were all moving slowly, not looking forward to school.

  “You drive,” Cole said, tossing the keys back to Isaac. “I have my own ride.”

  “What?” Alex demanded, and we all looked up at Cole. He smirked as a slick, black Porsche turned into the driveway. Everyone stared as the car pulled up, finally sliding to a stop in front of him.

  “It’s getting a bit cramped in the truck, don’t you think?” Cole asked.

  The window rolled down, and I recognized one of the boys who sat with Cole at lunch. “Hey, Walter,” he said, looking annoyed. “You coming or not? We’re going to be late.”

  “Dude, chill. We have plenty of time,” Cole answered, jogging around the side of the car. He opened the door, leaned down, and said something to his friend that I couldn’t hear. “Hey, Jackie,” he said, glancing back up. “Want a ride too? You don’t have to go with the losers if you don’t want.” He offered me one of his cocky grins and opened the back door as if he expected I was going to say yes.

  Danny, Nathan, Isaac, and Lee had already made their way down to the truck and were trying their best to ignore Cole as they piled their backpacks in the bed. Alex, however, was still standing next to me on the front walkway. I could feel him staring at me, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw that he had gone rigid. But he didn’t have anything to worry about. Until I knew exactly what had happened between the two of them, I was going to stick with Alex since he seemed like the more trustworthy one of the pair.