3. Halle
CHAPTER 3
HALLE
I t looks like my old middle school mascot threw up in my brothers’ bedroom. The yellow and green assault my eyes. So badly I have to literally raise a hand to shield them.
“It looks … great.”
The boys look at me, wearing matching grins and almost as much paint as they’ve managed to get on the walls. They won’t hear any complaints from me. They got the job done, and it doesn’t look half bad.
“Thanks.” Casen scratches his nose, leaving behind a streak of paint.
“Would you be up for helping with painting the kitchen?”
They exchange a silent look and shrug. “Sure,” Quinn replies.
“After, I thought we could go to the grocery store.”
“Sounds good to me.” Casen brushes past me on his way to the hall bathroom. “Can we get string cheese?” he yells as he turns on the water. “The kind that has the two colors twirled together?”
“Um…” My stomach tightens. “We’ll see if it’s in the budget. Okay?”
“Sure.” The sink cuts off with a squeak.
The kitchen is tucked into the back corner, separated from the rest of the first floor.
“Yellow, huh?” Quinn peeks into one of the pans I’ve already prepped.
“It was the best I could find on clearance.”
They blink at each other, doing the freaky silent twin talk thing for a moment. Then Casen says, “Ours weren’t on clearance. We would’ve been okay with clearance paint.”
I wave off his concern and pick up a roller, nodding at the tan wall I have a sneaky suspicion used to be white. “It’s fine. This will be a whole lot better than what’s here now. When money is less tight, maybe we can paint the cabinets white? What do you think?”
Quinn purses his lips, his head swaying from side to side. “That could look nice.”
“Very basic-bitch white.” Casen bobs his head. “I dig it.”
“Casen!” I scold, though I can’t stop the laughter that bubbles out of me .
“We can handle this since you got it all taped.” Quinn picks up a roller.
I bite my lip. “I guess. Then I could start on the living room.”
Another twin look.
Casen says, “Quinn can take care of the kitchen. I’ll help with the living room.”
“If you’re sure?” The living room isn’t huge, but it’s quite a bit larger than this small space.
“I know we’ve only been here, like, a day,” I ask Casen as we shuffle, single file, to the living room, “but what do you think so far?”
Casen picks up a roll of blue painter’s tape and drops to his knees in front of the nearest baseboard. “Eh. It’s a town, just like any other.”
“Right,” I sigh. “School doesn’t start for a month. Maybe you guys can make some friends before then. Were there kids your age at the arcade?”
Before I’m even done speaking, I internally groan. I shouldn’t have used the word kids . Teenagers don’t like that kind of thing, do they? I can’t remember what I was like at that age. I had to grow up fast, so I pretty much skipped over that whole phase of life. I went from being a kid to being the adult almost overnight. When Casen and Quinn were born, I was the one getting up with them in the middle of the night, making sure they were fed and changed.
“Some,” he answers.
My shoulders slump. I really hate this one-word answer thing .
Too tired to force conversation, I get to work helping him tape so that we can get to the painting part. Already the smell of paint is stronger than the musty stench the house came with.
We’re almost done with the first wall when he speaks again. “Halle?”
“Yeah, Case?” I keep my eyes on the roller as I coat the wall with paint, eager to get the work done. Painting the main walls of the house is going to be time-consuming.
“Quinn and I were talking. What if we got jobs? Then we could help you with bills and stuff.”
Frozen in place, I squeeze my eyes shut. The heartbreak that his words triggers nearly brings me to my knees. Instantly, I’m transported back years. To when I was a girl, knowing we had no money for food or clothes, saying the same thing to my mom. She immediately jumped at the suggestion. And for a moment, it felt good. Knowing I could help her. Knowing I could make life better for my brothers. But I was way too young. Instead of just being a kid, I took on the brunt of responsibility for our entire family.
“No, Case.” I exhale, letting the pain out with my breath. “Maybe when you’re older. And only if you want to—a-and your money would be yours. I’m…” I don’t want to lie to him. He’s too smart for that. They both are. “Things are tight, but we’re not that bad off. You two don’t need to worry, I promise.”
His eyes drop to the stained carpet beneath him. “Are you sure?”
My rambunctious, spunky, downright annoying little brother looks like he’s on the verge of tears. I hate the idea of either of them having to carry the burdens I did at their age. That was the whole point of my fight to gain guardianship.
“I promise. I might not be able to splurge on going out to dinner, and I may not get to spoil you with brand-new clothes, but the bills are paid, and we have money for necessities.”
“You’ll tell us if that changes? Promise?” My teenage brother holds out his pinky finger, wiggling it.
I loop my finger through his. “Promise.”
The grocery store isn’t busy, but the few shoppers here can’t seem to take their eyes off us.
“I feel like a zoo exhibit,” I mutter as we turn down another aisle.
Quinn snickers. “What kind of animal?”
I twist my lips and hum. “I don’t know. Like a baboon or maybe a rhinoceros.”
Casen barks out a laugh. “Those are two very different types of animals.”
“Yeah, well.” I shrug, examining a basket of apples that’s been marked down. They’re slightly bruised, but at the discounted price, they’re worth the risk. I can’t imagine fresh fruits will often be in the budget, and the boys will probably eat them before they can go bad anyway. They’re always hungry. “I guess this is small-town life.”
Our hometown was far from a big city, but Hawthorne Mills is a speck of a town, and we’re the shiny new toys everyone wants to speculate over.
“Are we really that interesting?” Casen asks as we move from the produce section to dairy. “They keep staring.”
“Apparently we are.” I open a refrigerator door, and as I pull a gallon of milk out, it takes effort not to cringe over the price. Jeesh. It’s milk. How is it that expensive?
“Is it going to be like this when we start school?”
I turn to Quinn, no longer able to hold back the cringe. “Probably.”
There’s no point in sugarcoating it. They’ll find out soon enough.
“Why do they care so much?” This from Casen.
I blow out a breath and carry on. “I guess they have nothing better to do.”
Quinn punches Casen in the shoulder. “Maybe we should invite them all over. We can put them to work painting, then give them our whole sad backstory so they can move on.”
I hate to admit it, but the kid might have a point.
“Come on,” I say. “Let’s get what we need so we can get out of here.”
I hate that I can’t make the transition easier for them. They’ve had to endure way more change than anyone should have to. I tried so hard to fill in the gaps left by Mom’s parenting so they wouldn’t have to experience what I did as a kid, but I worry I’ve failed epically.
We make it all the way to the ice cream aisle before we get stopped.
Every other person we’ve encountered has stared, but this woman uses her shopping cart to block mine, blatantly cornering us by turning her cart so there’s no way around her.
“I’m so sorry.” I somehow keep my jaw from dropping, but the automatic apology escapes, even though our little collision wasn’t my fault.
“I’ve seen you around.” She wags an accusing finger, eyes narrowed. “You moved in across the street from me and my lover.”
The boys snicker at the “my lover” comment.
I choke back my own laugh. “Did I? I haven’t had the chance to meet many neighbors yet.”
“I know,” she replies, nose lifted a fraction. “You met that handsome man next door, though, I see.”
“Uh…” My stomach twists at just the thought of him. “Caleb? Yeah, he helped us move in and so did…” Shit. What were their names?
“Thayer and Laith,” she says.
Jeez. I live across from a nosy busybody. I have the rottenest luck ever.
“Yes,” I say, inhaling deeply and searching for patience. “They helped too.”
I search my brain for the name of the woman Caleb said lived across the street. “Are you Cynthia?”
“No,” she snaps. “I’m Thelma. Cynthia’s my wife. Well, we’re not legally married, but it sounds nicer than admitting we’re living in sin at our age.”
My brothers, unable to help themselves, keel over in laughter. And I’m even closer to giving in and joining them.
“Laugh all you want, buddies,” Thelma goes on. “I’m finally living as my true, authentic self. I think that’s what the young ones call it these days. To think I wasted so much time on men . They wouldn’t know what the clitoris was if you smothered them with it.”
“All right.” Cheeks heating, I take an instinctive step back. “I really need to finish up here and get back home.”
“I’m not done.” She maneuvers her cart closer again. “I wanted to extend an invitation for dinner. My girl Cynthia is a great cook. She’ll make you the best meatloaf you’ve ever had. Do you like meatloaf?” she asks, but before any of us can respond, she rambles on. “It doesn’t matter.” She waves a hand. “You’ll like this one. Dinner is at six tonight. Don’t come a minute sooner.”
“I…” My words catch, my brain scrambling to catch up.
Before it can, she whips her cart around and scurries away. I have a feeling she did that on purpose so I’ll feel too guilty not to come.
“What’s a clitoris?” Quinn asks on one side of me. “Is that part of the vagina?”
“Is it where the pee comes out?” Casen adds.
I close my eyes, and even though I wouldn’t consider myself a religious person, I send up a prayer. I’m going to need all the help I can get.