My Life with the Walter Boys Page 11

  “Come on, Athena!” Cole said excitedly, digging his heels into her sides. He didn’t seem to notice my sudden change in attitude. “Let’s show this city girl why Colorado is amazing.”

  The horse jumped into action, and we rode back toward the house through the grassy meadows. The setting sun cast a warm glow around us. When the house came into sight, Cole stopped and turned back toward the sun. Together we watched the orange ball sink below the horizon, pulling with it a rainbow of colors.

  Chapter 7

  “I have never been so jealous of someone,” Heather announced. It was Saturday night and we were all lying in my bed, our elbows pressed up against one another. It was cramped on the single mattress—Heather had brought Kim along without warning me—and squishing four bodies onto the limited space was difficult.

  I’d just finished telling them about the tour of the ranch Cole gave me yesterday, something I promised to divulge only after we finished our art project. Kim was surprisingly helpful; she knew exactly how to rein in her friends and refocus their attention when they got distracted. Even so, my gossip seemed to work as perfect motivation for Heather and Riley.

  “Oh, good God,” said Riley. Untangling herself from the rest of us, she grabbed a pillow from the head of my bed, tossed it on the floor, and situated herself on top of it. “Why can’t one of the Walter boys take me on a date?”

  “It wasn’t a date. It was a tour,” I said, correcting her. “Which, I might add, Cole only gave me because Lee was being a jerk.”

  “You went horseback riding and watched the sunset together,” Heather said, sliding down next to Riley. There was a half-finished bowl of popcorn abandoned few feet away, and she scooped up a handful. “That’s a straight-out-of-a-book example of a romantic date.”

  “What do you think, Kim?” Riley asked, holding her hands out to inspect her nails. The bright blue polish was chipped on every finger.

  “About what?” Kim asked without looking up from the pages of the comic book spread out in front of her. During our boy gossip, she stayed quiet and stuck to reading. Riley tried to pull her into the conversation with occasional questions, but Kim had a knack for dismissing them immediately. She would offer a few quick words and wave her hand for effect before returning to her comics. It was a talent I had yet to master, because whenever I tried to wiggle my way out of a question, I dug myself into a deeper hole.

  “You think the tour counted as a date?”

  “Jackie was the one who was there,” Kim said. “She would know best.”

  “That is such a lame answer,” Riley said. “Jackie, do you have any nail polish?”

  “Sure.” I jumped up from my bed, glad for the change of subject. “Do you need remover too?”

  “And some cotton balls.”

  I opened my closet, looking for the heavy box that I knew was inside.

  “Whoa,” Heather said, as I pulled back the door. “What’s with the rainbow?”

  She was referring to the fact that all my clothes were hung color coordinated, from shades of red on one end to the purples on the other.

  My cheeks got warm. “Just a habit,” I said, locating the nail polish.

  After sliding the box out with some difficulty, I dumped it next to Riley, making the bottles inside rattle together. Everyone was silent as they looked down at the huge, cardboard moving box that was filled to the top with every color imaginable.

  Eyes big, Riley looked up at me. “Is that all?” she asked sarcastically, air puffing out of her mouth in disbelief.

  “For real,” Heather added, sliding next to Riley so she could get a better look. She dug her hand into the box and plucked out a bright red. “Planning on dropping out of school and starting your own salon?”

  I shook my head. They weren’t mine. Lucy had been obsessed with painting her nails the way Heather was obsessed with the Walter boys. She put on new color every day to match whatever outfit she was wearing. Her collection of polish was always scattered about the house, stuffed in drawers and cabinets or whatever space she could find. It got to the point that my mom had to set up a vanity in Lucy’s room specifically so she would have a space to do her nails. Regardless, bottles would pop up every now and then, tucked between the couch cushions or under a bookshelf where they had rolled and been forgotten.

  She was always trying to paint my nails too, but I didn’t like the way the polish chipped after a few hours, making my fingers look unkempt. “Jackie,” she would tell me, “doing your nails is like making a personal statement. Each color can say something different about you and your mood.”

  I always thought it was silly—blue was blue, and pink was pink. Not tranquil or melancholy or cheerful. Even so, when Katherine helped me pack my belongings, I couldn’t leave the nail polish behind. I swiped all of the bottles off the top of her vanity into a box so I could take some of Lucy with me to Colorado.

  “I don’t really use them,” I said, showing off my plain fingers. “They were my sister’s.” The statement slipped off my tongue casually, but everyone went silent. When I realized what I had said, the meaning behind my words, my shoulders went stiff.

  “Well,” Riley said slowly as she selected a dark purple, “this is quite the impressive collection.”

  “Definitely,” Heather agreed, shaking the bottle against her palm. “Want me to do your nails, Jackie?”

  She unscrewed the cap, and I realized what I liked so much about these girls. They knew about my family, that much was evident from the first time I met Heather, and they loved to gossip, yet they never once broached the subject. It had come up through offhand comments that I didn’t realize I was making, but these girls maneuvered around them gracefully, as if I hadn’t said anything.

  “Why not?” I told Heather, dropping down next to her and tucking my legs underneath me.

  “So,” she said, starting to apply the bright red liquid to my pinkie, “can you tell us a little more about that near kiss?”

  I made a face. “Not this subject again,” I said, but I couldn’t pull away. Heather was bent over my hands, the tiny brush moving carefully. “I thought we were done talking about Cole.”

  “Please, Jackie?” Riley begged. “Don’t you know how amazing this is? One of us has actually been near enough to Cole Walter to kiss him.”

  I didn’t want to recollect that particular experience—I was embarrassed that I let it happen—but I knew they wouldn’t stop interrogating me until they heard every last detail. On the upside, the way Riley said us made me feel special.

  “Okay, all right,” I groaned, giving in quickly. It was easier that way, just getting it over as fast as possible. “What do you want to know?”

  Their questions came at me faster than I could answer.

  “What did he smell like?”

  “Was he holding your hand?”

  “How close did your lips get?”

  “Did he tuck your hair behind your ear?”

  It was suddenly quiet, as both girls waited for me to say something.

  “Um?” I answered, looking back and forth between the two.

  “How about this,” Riley said in a serious voice, as if we needed to resolve some huge issue. “Why don’t we ask Jackie one question at a time?”

  “Me first,” Heather said, looking up from her work. “On a scale of one to ten, how bad did you want him to kiss you?”

  “Oh, that’s a good one,” Riley said, nodding her head at Heather.

  “Ahhh?” I said with a frown.

  Truthfully, I hadn’t the slightest idea. I mean, it wasn’t like I was staring at Cole’s lips, waiting for the moment he would kiss me. Everything just kind of happened. We were standing there, we were close, and something—an energy of some sort—was moving between us. I didn’t even know what was happening until it was all over. How was I supposed to rate a feeling like that?


  “We’re waiting,” Riley said.

  “I guess a five?” I said, hoping that wasn’t creepy high.

  “Only?” Heather said, looking disappointed. “I would have thrown myself at him.”

  At that moment, my bedroom door slammed open.

  “Jackie wants to kiss Cole!” Benny shouted at the top of his lungs. My heart stopped when I saw him. How long had he been listening?

  Alarmed, I shot to my feet. “That’s not true, Benny,” I said slowly. “Why would I want icky boy germs?” There was no way he was leaving my room shouting something like that. If Cole heard him…

  “Jackie and Cole sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” He sang louder and louder, his voice cracking at the end.

  “Benny Walter,” I said sternly. “If you don’t stop this instant—” I lost my words midsentence when I noticed what was on his head. “Oh my God, is that my bra?”

  I tried to snatch it back, but Benny was faster, darting away like a minnow. He leaped onto my bed and started jumping up and down.

  “I got your booby holder!” he taunted me.

  Kim, who was still curled up on my comforter trying to read, glared up at him. “Hey, kid,” she said, sternly and forcefully. “You’re going to wreck my comic.”

  Benny stopped jumping, his eyes huge. “Is that the newest Dr. Cyrus Cyclops?” he asked, sticking his face next to hers so he could get a better look.

  “It is,” Kim said.

  With Benny distracted, Riley was able pluck my bra off his head. She handed it to me, and I recognized it immediately as the one that went missing from the bathroom while I was showering. Someone had drawn nipples on each cup with a marker.

  “Can I read it with you?” Benny asked, and then he added, “Please?”

  “How about this,” Kim said. “If you promise to leave us alone and not repeat any of the conversation you heard, I’ll give it to you.”

  “Like to keep?” he asked, and Kim nodded her head. “Wow! Cross my heart, hope to die,” he said instantly. Benny held out his hand, but Kim didn’t hand it over right away. She gave him a look, one of those piercing stares that said, “Don’t mess with me.” Only when Benny swallowed, clearly nervous, did she relinquish her comic.

  He sat on my bed for a moment, holding it in his hand as he gazed down in amazement. Then he bolted from the room as if Kim might snatch it back.

  “Nice one, Kim,” Heather said, shutting the door behind him.

  She shrugged and stretched out. “I try.”

  “Thanks a bunch.” I let out the breath that I had been holding since Benny appeared. “That could have been disastrous.”

  We all looked at each other for a minute before bursting out laughing.

  ***

  “I had fun last night,” Riley told me, zippering up the sleeping bag she’d slept in.

  “Yeah, me too,” I said as I grabbed my own bag to roll up.

  It was Sunday morning, and Riley was helping me clean up the mess in my room. Kim needed to be home in time for church with her family, and since Heather was her ride, the two had left before Riley and I were even awake.

  We stayed up most of the night talking about all sorts of things, like how Kim was too obsessed with her online gaming—a problem Heather thought could be solved with a boyfriend—and how Riley thought the new American history teacher was cute in a scholarly, Harvard professor sort of way. But most of all, we talked about Cole and the Walters. I spent the whole night constantly trying to change the subject, but it was as if Riley’s and Heather’s brains were hardwired to think about Cole every half an hour. It wouldn’t have been so awful if they hadn’t kept insisting that I liked him, and vice versa.

  “It was really cool of Mrs. Walter to let us stay over,” Riley added as she shook a blanket out, holding it by two end corners. A few stray pieces of popcorn were launched into the air, but she ignored them and started to fold up the flannel fabric.

  “Yeah, Katherine’s been awesome to me.” I’d moved on to cleaning up the nail polish. Heather had dumped the entire box over in search of the perfect pink.

  “You know, you’re pretty awesome too,” she said. After setting the newly folded blanket on my bed, she dropped onto the floor next to me and helped me with the bottles. “Most people can’t put up with Heather and me. We’re a little…”

  “Intense?” I offered.

  “That’s a nice way of putting it, but yeah.”

  I shrugged. “Back home, I have this friend Sammy who reminds me of you both. The girls at my old school think she’s weird, but she’s just super passionate. You know, the kind of person who comes off as crazy because she cares too much?”

  Riley grinned. “Sounds like we’d get along.”

  “Totally.”

  A minute passed as we finished picking up the nail polish. When all the different colors were off the floor, Riley sat back on her heels and tucked a strand of bright red hair behind her ear. I was about to pick up the cardboard box and put it back in the closet, but she looked at me then, a strange half-happy, half-sad expression on her face.

  “So,” she asked slowly. “Are you…settling in okay?”

  It was the closest she had come to asking about my family, and in the silence that followed, I realized that I didn’t know what to say.

  “It’s only been a week,” I finally replied, even though that didn’t answer her question. And then I added softly, “Everything is so crazy here.”

  “How so?”

  “Living with the Walters—I feel like I never know what’s going to happen. It’s so—” I broke off, not able to think of the right word.

  “Unpredictable,” Riley said.

  “Exactly.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  Looking down at my hands, I turned them over as if they held the answer that could help me explain how I felt. “I don’t know,” I told her, still struggling. “It’s like I have to keep my guard up 24/7.” I glanced back up at Riley to see if she was following me, but the look on her face said she was lost.

  “Why do you need to have your guard up?”

  “Because,” I told her, a discouraged sigh hissing out my nose, “I have to be ready.”

  “For what? A zombie apocalypse?”

  I gave her a look. “No, just stuff. Life stuff.”

  “Well,” Riley said, her eyebrows scrunched together. “That seems like a lot of work.”

  “What does?” I asked.

  “Trying to be ready for everything.”

  “Not literally everything,” I told her. “But life’s a lot easier if things run smoothly.”

  “Sure,” Riley said, “but it’s also no fun if there aren’t any bumps. Not knowing what’s going to happen every once and a while makes things all the more interesting.”

  I was suddenly overwhelmed, the lack of sleep from the past night catching up. “But if you don’t know what’s going to happen,” I said, throwing up my hands in frustration, “if you’re not prepared, that’s when you make mistakes.”

  “Mistakes can be good things, though.”

  I just looked at her.

  “Okay, take me for example,” she said. “I wasn’t prepared, as you like to say, for my first boyfriend. He was older than me, more experienced. We dated for about four months and then he broke my heart.”

  “I don’t see how that’s good,” I pointed out.

  “Okay, well, maybe that wasn’t the best example,” Riley said, “but if I could do it again, I would.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he was my first love. Those first four months, as quick as they went, were a whirlwind of bliss. Sometimes you have to let your heart take the lead.”

  “But if I can prepare for things—”

  Riley laughed. “You can’t prepare for love. It’s not like tak
ing your driver’s test or the SATs. It’s a gift. One that can happen at any moment.”

  “How did we even get on this subject?” I asked. “I thought we were talking about my move.”

  “We’re talking about it because you’re afraid to take a chance.”

  “On what?”

  “Just stuff,” she said, echoing my words. “Life stuff.” But there was the tiniest crack of a smile on her face, and I knew she was hinting at something more.

  “Riley…” I said, frowning at her.

  “What?” she asked, shrugging and faking innocence. “All I’m saying is that you’re too busy worrying about the future. Sometimes, you just gotta feel.”

  ***

  Riley’s mother picked her up after breakfast. I stood on the front porch and waved until their car disappeared at the end of the drive, but instead of going back inside, I took the wooden steps down onto the front lawn. The fresh spring air was refreshing, so I followed a gravel path that wrapped around the side of the house into the backyard. I was heading in the direction of the tree house, a place I’d wanted to check out ever since Cole pointed it out during the tour of the ranch.

  As I neared the oak tree, I realized just how tall it was and how far the branches stretched out in every direction. A canopy of green above me created a pool of shade from the sun. I took the time to count the number of wooden planks nailed into the trunk—there were twelve in all. The house itself looked neglected, and I wondered when one of the Walter boys had used it last. Probably not for a long time, I thought. It would be the perfect place to hide out.

  Placing my hands on the wooden step above my head, I started to climb carefully, not wanting to get a splinter. When I reached the top, I pushed open the trapdoor in the floor, and its hinges screeched.