1. Lilah #3
He pulled his tablet and books out of his bag and dropped them on the table. “And that makes it your problem because…”
“Because I have to live here too.” Their mom hadn’t died, but she had decided that taking care of them after marrying her new husband was too demanding.
Too chaotic and disruptive to her newlywed life.
And after I’d helped with their Hawthorne Prep applications and they’d gotten in, the decision had been made that the commute would be easier if they stayed here during the week and went home on the weekends.
“How was it they got you to give up your room again?” He nodded at me with a tight look on his face.
Technically, the beautiful, sunny bedroom with its own bathroom had never been mine.
Dad and I had only moved a few of our things into the house when their mom announced she’d be going on an extended honeymoon, so they’d be living full-time with our Dad—in the two-bedroom gardener’s cottage.
They’d gotten the room because they needed more space with their own bathroom.
The attempt to contain enough eyeshadow palettes to paint the whole house had been a spectacular fail, evidenced by the fact that my toothbrush sat on the mantle above the fireplace in the living room since there was no space on the hallway bathroom counter.
I flipped open my notebook. “There’s two of them. It made sense for them to be in there and me out here. It’s only for a year.”
“They’re assholes.”
“They’re family. Two-thirds of what I’ve got left. You’ve got like twenty in a four-block radius of your house.”
“All I’m saying is, they suck.”
“They don’t. A new stepdad, new school, moving, squeezing into this house.
They’re still adjusting. Plus, they have a lot more stuff than me.
After their summer trip to Europe, they’ve both mellowed out.
” Did all the sights they got to see look like they did in movies?
Had they eaten pain au chocolat at the Yves Saint Laurent museum, or explored the Fashion and Textile Museum in London?
I shook away the daydreams. Be grateful, Lilah. “Let’s do this. Payment, please.” I moved my fingers in a greedy gimme motion.
He lifted his backpack and yanked it open, revealing the bounty inside.
“As requested.” Swiss Cake Rolls—which were only properly eaten by biting off the chocolate coating and then unrolling the cake—and a variety of other cupcakes filled with a vanilla “cream” that would remain edible after a nuclear blast but tasted like chemical heaven.
Was any of this healthy? Absolutely not.
Would I devour an entire box without blinking?
In a heartbeat. But I paced myself. This little stash needed to last.
An hour later, sitting at the dining room table nook, I set my pencil down and stretched my back. A few snack wrappers littered the table, but there wasn’t a crumb in sight. “You got eleven out of fifteen right!”
“Thank god.” Rye sagged against the chair. “If I bombed again, I was going to jump out this window.”
“The house is only one story, drama queen.”
“I know. I’m not ready to give up the hockey signing bonus dream yet.”
“If you go over the flash cards I made you, you’ll definitely be ready. Verona High doesn’t give extra credit to their state champions hockey players?” I said with a deepened voice, puffed up chest and swinging my arms back and forth.
He moved his hand in a talking-head motion. “Something about wanting to prepare us not only athletically, but academically, for college. Blah blah blah.”
“With these grades, you could get into Rutgers without the sports scholarship.”
“But then I wouldn’t get all that sweet, sweet pro money.”
“Money isn’t everything.”
He looked at me with a pointed stare. Then we burst out laughing. Okay, it kind of was when you didn’t have it. Rye was on his path for the same reason I was. The stability and security of a healthy bank account couldn’t be underestimated.
“Once I go pro, you know I’m buying you anything you want.” He picked up his notebook, folded it in half, and bopped me on the head with it.
I shoved his hands away and rubbed at the spot on my head. “No, you’re not. You’ll be smart with your money, invest, and not go crazy with buying stupid stuff.”
Rye had family to worry about. His mom, two younger brothers.
They were the ones he needed to spend his money on once he’d finally achieved his dream.
“Consider it an interest payment for tutoring me for free. It’ll show up one day, and you won’t get a say.
A sleek black car with a giant bow on top or your name on a new apartment. ”
“And I’d kick your butt.”
“What’s the point of all this blood, sweat, and five a.m. rink time over a decade if I can’t use my money for the people I care about?”
“Family comes first. I swear, I would never speak to you again if you did something stupid like that.”
He shoved his notebook into his backpack, bending the cover and half the pages. “You know you’re too nice.”
I squeezed my lips together, unable to watch the notebook mangling. “Someone’s got to be.”
“What happened to that dinner you needed to plan for?”
My stomach rebelled a little, fueled only by sugar, fat, and carbs.
“I’ll get to it.” The abandoned grocery list stared back at me.
Back when it had been just me and Dad, I picked up what we needed, but groceries for four people were a lot harder to manage, especially with how quickly the twins went through food.
No car and no buses to the closest grocery store meant relying on Dad’s sieve-like memory.
“I don’t really want to think about eating anything right now.”
“Your dad forgot to pick up groceries, didn’t he?” He jerked his head toward the organized list sitting on the edge of the counter.
“He’s busy. He’ll grab it tomorrow. Plus, we’ve still got plenty until then.” I closed my notebook, pushed my chair back. A little pebble tossed into a pond of guilt sent ripples through my stomach. Don’t look, Rye.
“So if I open those cabinets, there won’t be some peanut butter, cereal, and packs of ramen in there.”
I slid my notebook into my backpack. I’d finished the last pack of ramen yesterday.
“I’ll bring more when I come next time,” he said. “My mom’s been dying to cook for you.”
“She doesn’t have to do that.”
“It’ll be my installment payment for tutoring. How about chicken Caesar salad, cranberry juice and some chicken alfredo?”