#BreakingTheRules

by Yesenia Vargas

  You couldn’t go wrong with a good, old-fashioned, hand-written letter of apology.

  So that’s what I did.

  I glanced at my laptop, sitting on Ella’s desk. I’d opened up my blog and stared at the empty screen for what felt like forever, but the words just wouldn’t come. The time wasn’t right. Not yet. I wasn’t sure when it would be, but for now I had to focus on this.

  My brother, Hugo.

  I turned back to the sheet of notebook paper in front of me.

  It was just me. Ella and her aunt had run out to pick up a pizza for the three of us. We had a long girls’ night ahead, but I’d been putting off writing this letter since yesterday. The plan was to swing by my house and ask my mom to give it to him before he left for his first morning class.

  I only hoped he’d read it and maybe forgive me. At least not go on hating me for breaking the rules.

  The rules that said that you don’t break your brother’s trust. No matter how much you like his best friend.

  So I picked up my pen and wrote.

  Dear Hugo,

  I’m so sorry. I can’t stand that things are like this between us. You’ve always been the best big brother. You’ve never been mean to me or anything like that.

  Instead, you always pushed me on the swings even when you were clearly annoyed and wanted to get back to what you were doing.

  We’re only a year apart, but I swear you’re so much wiser and smarter and kinder. You’re just infinitely a better person than I am, always looking out for me. I still remember that one time you punched that kid for me. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.

  Knowing all of that about you just makes what I did worse. The truth is I should have stayed far away from Wes.

  I wiped away several tears and kept going.

  He’s been your best friend forever, and I don’t want to be the reason you two stop being friends. I know for a fact that the thought of losing you would kill Wes.

  Hugo knew as well as me that Wes didn’t have anyone else. Not like my brother. So if he should forgive anyone, it had to be him.

  I love you. I’m sorry. Please talk to Wes.

  I never meant to hurt you. And I can’t think of anything worse than you hating me.

  I totally understand if you still don’t want to talk to me. I just needed you to read these words.

  Your sister,

  Rey

  Twenty-Six

  Monday night, I slinked back into my room when I was sure everyone would be in the dining room.

  Mom had asked twice if I’d be home for dinner, probably hoping I’d change my mind, but I’d made up some excuse of telling Ella that I’d have dinner with them and do homework together.

  Really, I just couldn’t stand another awkward meal with my brother.

  According to my twin brothers, Wes hadn’t been around the entire weekend. No video games, no eating out together, or hitting the books together. No sign of him.

  Guilt ate at me at the thought of Hugo and Wes’s friendship being over for good.

  They couldn’t let me do that to them.

  I’d hoped my letter to Hugo would be enough to at least get him talking to Wes again, but apparently not.

  The thought of the three of us never being the same around each other anymore had me hugging my pillow close and staring toward my window.

  Through a slit in my curtains, I could catch a glimpse of Wes’s blinds.

  He usually had them open, but tonight they were completely closed.

  Light from his bedroom peeked through, but otherwise there was no sign of Wes.

  A soft knock came at the door, and I finally turned away from my window.

  My mom walked in, carrying a cup of tea and some cookies.

  Were those normal, sugar-containing cookies?

  I sat up. “Hey.”

  “Hey, you,” she said with a smile and setting down the tray on my nightstand. “I thought you could use a treat tonight, and I had some leftover from the bake sale for the boys tomorrow.”

  I smiled and took a cookie. “Thanks, Mom.”

  Taking a small bite, I realized I couldn’t even fully enjoy the soft-baked cookie and all its goodness. Not tonight.

  “Good?” she asked, sitting down next to me.

  I nodded. “Really good. They’re gonna be a hit tomorrow.”

  “I hope so. We’re raising money to send the whole team to a tournament in California. The boys are already shopping for surfboards and figuring out how to get their passports in time.”

  That had me giggling. “You don’t need a passport to travel to another state,” I said.

  My mom started giggling too. “I know. But they’ll figure it out eventually.” She winked at me. “I thought it would be a good research project for them.”

  She put her arm around me and I lay my head on her shoulder. “How’s Hugo?” I asked. “Is he still mad?”

  My mom sighed. “I think he just needs time, honey.”

  I said something about being tired, and she seemed to get the hint and leave.

  In all our lives, Hugo had never been mad at me. Not like this.

  I was sure there were times growing up when I accidentally broke something of his or when I did something to annoy him. But he’d never gotten mad at me, just exhaled and stayed quiet until my parents were done explaining to me what I’d done and that I needed to fix things.

  Well, I didn’t know how else to fix things.

  More than ever, I was sure that he wouldn’t talk to me ever again. At least not to joke around or watch a movie together.

  And then I’d start college and maybe we’d see each other even less, become those siblings that never spoke. What if he moved away?

  All because I’d messed up.

  But what hurt the most was knowing that I’d messed up his friendship with Wes. That hurt on another level. It was bad enough knowing that I’d lost Wes, but to know that my mistake had hurt Hugo too?

  All of a sudden, the idea of me going away to college didn’t seem so bad. Not if it meant fixing things between Hugo and Wes. I’d miss them both.

  But maybe it was for the best.

  Hugo barely looked at me all week.

  He walked right by me without saying a word. Even at dinner he hardly talked.

  There still hadn’t been any sign of Wes around, and I couldn’t help but think that if they hadn’t patched things up by now then maybe they never would.

  That’s all I could think about with a plate full of dinner in front of me. I managed a few bites and asked my parents to be excused.

  I hadn’t even made it to my room when the tears started.

  I’d decided to go to college in the fall at the school a couple of hours away. Not my ideal choice, but I thought it would be best if I got away for a while. Plus my parents had paid the deposit. So my decision had been made.

  I’d go there for the next four years. Along with ten thousand other students. Thinking about that number made me panic a little bit, but I would figure it out. Find my way.

  Right?

  So why did I feel worse instead of better?

  I closed my bedroom door behind me.

  As much as I loved to read and be alone, I couldn’t hide out in there forever. Especially with summer coming up. My parents had all kinds of stuff planned, and things couldn’t go on like this with Hugo.

  Could they?

  I’d poured my heart to him in that letter.

  Was it sitting in that tiny trash can in his room? The one he never emptied.

  I pulled out a book and tried to get into it, but it was impossible. My mind kept going back to Wes and how much I missed him and wondering what he was up to and then guilt for thinking about him and how much I’d hurt Hugo.

  No matter how many times I read and re-read the words on the page, I just couldn’t absorb them.

  So I gave up, pulled the covers over my head, and shut my eyes.

  If books couldn’t help me escape, t
hen maybe sleep would.

  Wes was going away to his mom’s for a while.

  My mom had heard as much from his dad next door.

  I couldn’t help but think that he wanted to get away from me.

  And the fact that Hugo still wouldn’t talk to him.

  He’d come knocking once or twice, according to my twin brothers. But Hugo had said something about being busy each time.

  He’d never ever used that as an excuse. If Wes came over, they hung out no matter what. Even when Hugo had gotten the flu a few years back. And then Wes had gotten it too.

  It sounded like Wes needed to be on his own for a while.

  Meanwhile, I didn’t know what else I could do. My mom said to give Hugo time, but how much time did he need? Another month? A year?

  He’d never been this upset at anyone ever.

  What if they stopped being best friends for good? What if Wes moved away? Moved in with his mom permanently? He didn’t have a very good relationship with her and her new husband. He rarely visited her, but what if he decided that it was better than this?

  My heart broke just thinking about not having Wes in my life anymore. Or rather, our lives.

  If it came down to that, Hugo would leave me no choice but to tell him he was making a mistake.

  But supposedly, Wes was just leaving for the weekend.

  He’d be back, right?

  It was all too much to think about.

  Normally, books and words and writing were my escape. But today, it wasn’t enough. I had to get out of my room, where Wes’s window was just out of sight. I had to get out of the house.

  So I grabbed my measly savings and escaped to the bookstore.

  Escaped to hot mugs of tea and quiet rows and rows of shelves. Nothing quite like the smell of new books.

  After a while, though, I had no choice but to go back home. My mom said I had to be home for dinner, and I supposed she was right because the pastry and tea from earlier were long gone.

  So I hopped back into my car and headed home. This time, though, I was at least armed with a new pile of books.

  As I drove, I wondered if Wes would be gone by the time I pulled in.

  What if I bumped into him? I missed him, missed those honey-filled eyes of his, but I also didn’t want to see him. I knew he had to be mad at me, or at best wanted nothing to do with me. And seeing that kind of expression on his face would only make me want to retreat into bed with a box of tissues.

  That was the kind of pain even words couldn’t help.

  My hands on the steering wheel, my thoughts on Wes and where he was, I did not see the next thing coming.

  My car gave a big lurch on the front passenger side, making me shriek and hold on for dear life.

  The sound of a flat tire had me easing off the gas, and I checked to make sure no one was right behind me. But I was alone and just a few minutes from my house.

  I let the car come to a stop and roll off the road and onto the grass. The next neighborhood wasn’t for a few hundred more feet, with only trees nearby. I exhaled, both hands still on the steering wheel.

  Well, I was still in one piece. My car, maybe not so much. I glanced at the dashboard, not really knowing if anything seemed off there. I had half a tank full of gas. There wasn’t anything blaring or flashing. That had to be a good sign, right?

  Checking my mirrors to make sure there was no traffic coming, I decided it was a good time to step outside and take a look.

  Maybe it was just a flat tire. I opened the car door and went around to the front. Sure enough, the front left tire had a gash in it.

  I wondered if it was okay to drive it home the few miles or if that would just make things worse.

  Did I have a spare in the trunk? I bit my lip. No idea.

  Instinctively, I knew this was one of those times that merited a call to my dad.

  Swiping past my messages app, I went straight to the little green phone icon.

  But two calls later, he wasn’t answering. My mom was at Aunt Paula’s again. I knew that much. She wouldn’t be home until late. And I wasn’t sure she could help me change a tire anyway. I sighed and dialed Hugo’s number, knowing he’d come to my rescue no matter how angry he was at me.

  He picked up two rings in, and relief swept through me. It was getting dark fast out there.

  “Hey.” His voice sounded kind of serious.

  I took a deep breath. “Hey. Um, I blew a tire on the way home. You think you can help me change it? Or do you think it’s okay to just drive home like this?”

  “Where are you?” he asked, sounding more engaged.

  I closed my eyes a second, immediately feeling good about calling him. “I’m near the Poplar Springs subdivision. Like just past it, if you’re coming from home.”

  I could hear him getting up or something. “I’ll be there in a minute. Probably best to change it.”

  “Okay, thanks,” I replied. “I called Dad, but he didn’t answer. Sorry to bother you.”

  He paused. “I think Dad said he’d be in a big meeting until late and he’d have his phone on silent.”

  Oh, I must have missed that.

  “And Rey?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re not bothering me,” he finished.

  Twenty-Seven

  By the time Hugo found me, the sun had mostly set and it was that time of day outside where your eyes started to adjust. I loved it.

  I also started to think that maybe this was just the kind of thing that would help the two of us go back to normal. Maybe he wouldn’t trust me for a while or want to joke around with me, mess up my hair as I walked like he usually did, but if it got us talking again, I couldn’t be more thankful.

  Hugo’s car slowed down as he reached me. He drove past my car turned around, and pulled in behind me.

  I wasn’t sure if I should be relieved or nervous.

  His keys in his hand, he walked toward me. “So is it bad?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t think so. But it kinda scared me when it happened.”

  He went around and took a look, with me right behind him.

  “Hm,” he said.

  It was hard to believe he was only a year and a few months older than me. He’d always been so much more mature, not to mention taller. I’d gotten my mom’s petite genes, while he’d gotten his height from Dad.

  And ever since he’d started college, he’d practically turned into a man while I was sure I’d be confused for an eighth grader the rest of my life.

  Hugo stood back up and glanced at me. “Can you pop the trunk?”

  A few minutes later, the spare was on, and the busted tire was in the back of my car. “Are all guys born just knowing how to do that?” I joked, testing the tension in the air.

  He smiled, and I bit the inside of my lip to keep from doing the same. “Something like that,” he said, tightening up a bolt or something. He put the jack back in his car. “How about I follow you home?”

  I nodded and opened the driver’s door to hop in. Hugo got back in his car. I turned on mine and got back on the road.

  Within a few minutes, we were back home. Hugo pulled in beside me. He went inside quickly and without another word, leaving the front door ajar.

  Movement next door caught my eye.

  It was Wes, heading to his car, a duffel bag over his shoulder. An instant later, he turned in my direction.

  I glanced away and decided to get out of the car. I remembered the bag of books in the passenger seat and went around to grab them, my heart pounding with each step.

  Wes tossed his duffel bag into the back of his SUV and slammed the door closed.

  I couldn’t help it. I stopped and looked at him. He glanced my way, also pausing with his hand on the front driver’s door.

  Our eyes met for a split second, and in that second, I knew he missed me as much as I did.

  But then he glanced toward the house.

  I did the same.

  Hugo stood there, like he’d
come back out for something. His eyes were on Hugo, then on me.

  I shut the passenger door, guilt flooding my stomach, the bag from the bookstore in my hands.

  With my head down, I went up the front steps and past him, without a second look to Wes.

  Had he seen that? I hoped not, but common sense told me yes.

  I hung around the living room for a minute, wondering if he’d say something, but more than anything, wishing for a sign that I hadn’t ruined things yet again.

  But all he did was come back in, shut the door behind him, and run up the stairs.

  The slam of his bedroom door reached me all the way on the couch.

  After yet another awkward dinner where Hugo hardly said a word, I metaphorically climbed back into my turtle shell and did the same.

  So he had seen that moment between Wes and me. We’d been doing so good, and just like that, I had messed things up again.

  He went right back up to his room as soon as my parents let him. I wanted to do the same, but I didn’t want a view of Wes’s room, and closing the curtains wasn’t helping.

  I just wanted to lose myself in a good movie. Words I didn’t have to read. Pictures I didn’t have to imagine in my head. I just wanted to sit there and absorb and lose myself in someone else’s story for a while.

  Pulling a thick blanket around my waist and hugging my knees, I searched for something to watch.

  I scrolled past my entire collection of Harry Potter movies, not liking the recent memories that came to the surface upon seeing the familiar titles.

  Then I scrolled back, pausing and deciding if it was too painful to watch or whether JK Rowling’s universe could comfort me like it always had.

  I pushed play on the first movie, knowing full well it would remind me of that afternoon with Wes.

  Maybe I wanted the memories, even if they came with the pain.

  By the time Harry struggled to grab even one letter from the air, the tears were back.

  I blinked to keep them at bay and hugged myself a little harder.

  I had to get over Wes sooner or later. That was the only way Hugo would stop being mad at me. No more pining for brother’s best friend. No more shared looks or wishing things were different.