Filed to story: My Life with the Walter Boys Book (I & II) PDF Free
There was silence again, and in that moment, I realized that Nathan might be wrong about some of the girls at Valley View High. Erin didn’t seem very accepting of Cole’s player behavior. Maybe I stood a chance after all.
Cole slapped the surface of the water before raking his fingers through his hair. Even from a distance I could see his lips curl in anger, and as if sensing me, he looked up at my window. I barely ducked in time, and with my heart racing against my chest, I retreated toward my bed and out of view.
***
Peering down into the box, I discovered that I was finally done unpacking. There was only one item left inside to give a new home to, and I knew exactly where to put it. The picture frame was a shimmery gold, and the metal edges swirled like lace around the photo of my mother and me. I positioned the picture of us on top of my dresser next to all the other frames I’d set up—and took a step back.
Ever since I was young, people had said how similar we looked, even if I couldn’t see it. It’s the hair, I would tell them. We have the same hair. My mother laughed at the comparison, not because she didn’t think we looked similar, but because to her, we were nothing alike.
And we weren’t.
Growing up, it didn’t take long for me to realize how incredibly different my life was compared to the rest of the world. Most people had one house, not four vacation homes in different locations around the world, two beach properties—one on the East Coast and the other on the West—and one luxury penthouse on the Upper East Side of Manhattan.
In the first grade, I visited a classmate’s house to work on a science project and was shocked to find out that she did chores. I always had maids to clean up after me, to fold my clothes and put away my dishes. Chauffeurs didn’t drive every car on the road—most people drove their own. And owning a private jet? That wasn’t normal either. My dad was the definition of successful, and it was a lot, maybe even too much, to live up to.
I tried anyway. I had to for my mom. In school, not only did I have the highest GPA in my year, but I also became the student council president and head of the yearbook committee as a freshman. During the summers, I interned at my dad’s company, while at the same time helping my mother plan her autumn charity ball.
My life was busy, but never in a hectic, out-of-control way. I organized my time, every minute of every day, within the confines of a little black day planner. What drove my mother crazy were the lists. Every task I ever needed to complete—whether redecorating my room or doing my nightly homework—was tackled using an orderly to-do list. The most important business went on the top, and by the time I reached the bottom, I could be safe in knowing that I hadn’t forgotten anything. Because after all, those were the worst surprises, weren’t they? The stuff you didn’t plan for—or didn’t plan enough for—that made everything less…perfect.
So where I was cautious, aiming for perfection, some impossible abstraction, my mother was the opposite: wild, spontaneous, carefree. There was a reason why Designs by Jole & Howard was one of Manhattan’s most popular fashion houses—Angeline Howard was willing to take chances, to leap without looking. Jackie, she would say, you can’t control everything. Roadblocks, little unexpected bumps, they’re all part of living.
I disagreed. Everything could be accounted for. All it took was some preparation. Why would anyone choose chaos when they could live in control?
“Hey, Jackie?” someone asked, interrupting my thoughts. The door opened a sliver, just enough for me to make out Alex in the hallway.
“Yes?” I asked, pulling it open all the way.
“Um, my mom wants to know what type of dressing you like on your salad.”
“I’m fine with whatever.”
“Okay, thanks. Dinner should be ready in ten,” he said, turning away.
“Wait. Before you go!” I spun around and grabbed the Shakespeare play off my bed. “Here,” I said, handing it to him. “Take it.”
“What’s this?” he asked, looking down at the cover.
“
A
Midsummer
Night’s Dream.
Remember? I read yours and you read mine?”
“Right,” he said, grinning up at me. “Book swap.”
***
“So, boys,” said Katherine, unfolding her hands after George led grace. We were all seated for dinner, with the exception of Will who had returned to his apartment the day before. “Who wants to fess up for wrecking the shower curtain?”
I almost dropped my plate, which I was holding up so Nathan could scoop a serving of mashed potatoes onto it. Somehow, over the course of the day’s events, I’d forgotten about this morning. Most of the boys snickered, and I knew that they knew. Jack and Jordan must have shown them the footage of me rushing out of the bathroom. I could picture them in my head, all crowded around the small device, laughing as I shrieked on-screen.
“Don’t anyone try to blame this crime on Zack and Benny like the noodles-in-the-washing-machine incident. Since they were at the dentist with me, they have an exceptional alibi.”
“I know who did it,” Lee said, words spurting past his lips, almost as if he had been waiting for her to ask.
When he didn’t respond immediately, Katherine pursed her lips. “Well?”
Lee picked up his cup and took a long, antagonizing sip of water before setting it back down. “I’m not one for tattling,” he said with a shrug. “Why don’t you ask Jackie?” He turned to me, and cruel satisfaction flickered in his eyes.
“Jackie?” Katherine said, laughing. She shook her head in dismissal. “Now that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard in ages.”
I didn’t know what to say to this since the notion of me ripping down someone’s shower curtain was, in fact, ridiculously unbelievable, but unfortunately it was also the truth. I couldn’t lie.
“I’m so sorry, Katherine,” I said, hanging my head.
At the sound of my voice, her head snapped up to look at me. “Jackie?” She paused, clearly confused. Finally, “Why on earth would you do that?”
Her question roused another round of laughter.
“I didn’t mean to ruin anything,” I tried to explain, “but after my shower, I really needed to, um, cover up.”
George narrowed his eyes in suspicion, as if he knew something fishy was going on. “Didn’t you remember a towel?”
This was the point of no return. I could either lie, letting Isaac get away with it, or explain the entire story so my actions would be justified. But if I told Katherine and George what really happened, Isaac would most likely be pissed, and that could come back to haunt me. On the other hand, if I rolled over and let it go, the boys might take that as an open invitation to torment me. I risked a quick glance at Isaac. His lip twitched as he stared back, daring me to challenge him. I turned back to George.
“Isaac took it,” I said, the accusation rushing out of my mouth. “And my clothes. He took those too.”
It took George a moment to react, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he processed my words. “
What?
” he finally roared, his chair flying back as he shot up from the table.