Filed to story: My Life with the Walter Boys Book (I & II) PDF Free
“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…”