by Kasie West
“You’ll always be the baby sister to me.”
I kicked at him but missed as he jumped away from my feet. “I still need to go see your new place.”
“You should wait a few weeks. I’m in the middle of a renovation.”
“A renovation?”
His eyes lit up. “It’s amazing. I hired a guy to bust out a wall and redo the outdated kitchen. I’m making it into more of a loft feel.”
“Wait, I’m confused. Did you buy it?”
“Of course. Why would I throw away money in rent every month? It’s an investment.”
The words from the article about half-a-million-dollar condos came into my mind. That had been referring to my brother, not me. “Was it a lot?”
“You’re worried about me. Don’t worry about me. I’m going to get a part-time job and finish school and it will be great.”
“So no more casinos?”
He gave me a funny look.
“I wasn’t trying to snoop but saw a receipt when I looked for paper in your drawer the other day.”
He smiled. “My sister, the one who won big in gambling, is now judging me for trying my hand at it?”
“I don’t gamble, Beau.”
“I don’t gamble; I just won the lottery,” he said in a high-pitched voice.
I sighed. Was he right? Wasn’t the lottery basically gambling?
He patted me on the head. “It was just once. I wanted to have a little fun. I lost a hundred bucks, so I won’t be doing that again anytime soon.”
“Good.”
“Good,” he repeated. “Besides, aren’t you the one funding everyone’s outings and dorm makeovers?”
My brows went down. “How did you know about that?”
“You told us at dinner one night a few weeks ago.”
“You didn’t … ” I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and spit it out. “You didn’t talk to a reporter about me, did you?”
“A reporter? No. Why?”
My phone started buzzing on the chair next to me and I looked just in time to see Seth’s name on the screen.
“Time to get out,” I said to my brother, but not before he noticed the name as well.
“Who’s Seth?”
I stood and pushed him by the chest toward the door.
“How come I haven’t met Seth?”
“Out. Seriously.”
“Fine. Have fun talking to your boyfriend.”
My phone stopped buzzing. “Stop being such a brother.”
He ruffled my hair. “Impossible.”
When he shut the door behind him I rushed back over to my phone and pushed the button to call Seth back.
He answered in a voice that sounded like he was surprised I was calling. “Hello?”
“Hey.”
“Hi, what’s up?” he said.
“What’s up? You’re the one who called me.”
He laughed. “That’s right, I was.”
“That was one second ago.”
“It was.” His laughter trailed off. “I just wanted to say hi.”
I bit my bottom lip, restricting the smile that was trying to take over my face. He’d hear that smile if I let it get too big. “That’s a good excuse to call.”
“Yeah, I normally have bad excuses.”
“Seth, you never need an excuse to call me.” I had meant to say it in a nice, friendly voice but it came out too serious, too dramatic.
I thought he’d mock me for it, but instead answered back just as serious, “Thank you.”
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Just pondering life’s big questions.”
“And were you provided with life’s big answers?”
“No, that’s why I called you. You always have all the answers, right?”
I fell back on my bed and positioned my feet on my headboard. “Less and less these days it seems.”
“You still worried about your brother?”
“No, actually. That seemed to work itself out on its own.”
“I’m sure you had nothing to do with it.”
“Actually, I just talked to him, like you said. So it was all you.”
“I’ll take credit for solving your problems since I can’t seem to solve my own.”
“Let’s hear them. Maybe I can return the favor.”
There was a long pause on the line and for a moment I thought the call had been dropped. But then his breath sounded. A breath of frustration or sadness or anger, I couldn’t tell.
“I hate fakers,” he said.
My heart jumped up its pumping speed. He knew about me and now he was going to tell me that he was angry and we couldn’t be friends anymore because I’d lied to him.
“I’m sorry,” I started. I needed to explain to him why I hadn’t told him. How I was trying to hang on to a vestige of my old life in him. How he helped me feel normal and happy and grounded. How he was the person I felt most myself around because we never talked about my money or how I was different or how I would be different or should be different. Maybe if I told him all that, he’d understand why I’d done it.
Before I could go on, he spoke. “And here I’ve been lying to you.”
“What?” I asked, now confused.
“I want to go to college,” he said.
“You made up your mind? Was it all the focusing I had you do?”
“No, my mind was always made up. I always wanted to. But I can’t go.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t afford it.”
“That sucks.” A familiar pang of anxiety hit me. I hadn’t felt this specific anxiety for a while, but I knew it well: money worries.
“You know what sucks even more? That I had the money. I mean, my parents had it, saved it for me since I was little. But my dad lost his job last year and … ”
“They needed it.”
“They wouldn’t have needed it if they weren’t so determined to maintain our lifestyle. But yes, they’re using it. They’re using it so their friends still think they’re rich and have their lives put together. My dad keeps saying that it’ll be fine, he just needs more time to find something and then he’ll put the money back. But by that time, it’ll be too late.”
“I’m so sorry. I totally understand how you feel.” That was my life two months ago. Sort of. At least the needing money part. “What about a scholarship? Grants?”
“I’m hoping for some to come through. I’ve applied for about five hundred.”
“That’s good.”
“I’m not you, Maddie. My grades aren’t beyond perfect.”
“But a person is more than their grades. You’ve done so much more. Something will come through.”
“I hope so.”
“Can I tell you a truth, too?” I asked.
“Of course.”
I closed my eyes. I needed to tell him. He didn’t need another faker in his life. And maybe he’d let me help him. Maybe he’d let me loan him some money. “I really do want to go to Stanford.” That’s what came out instead of what I intended to say. “I’ve worked hard and it’s the kind of college that’s every school-loving nerd’s dream, right? But I’m scared.” It may not have been what I intended to tell him but I realized it was a truth as well. One I had never wanted to acknowledge or admit out loud. The girl who was prepared for everything wasn’t quite prepared to leave what she knew. It was hard to study for the unknown.
“Why are you scared?” he asked.
“So many reasons. What if everyone is smarter than me there? Do you know how many smart people go to Stanford? What if I get homesick? What if I hate college? What if I hate Northern California?”
“You’ll do great anywhere, Maddie. You are perfect college material. And Stanford isn’t that far.”
“It is exactly six hours and two minutes away by car. More if there’s traffic.”
“But a lot shorter by plane, right?”
“Yes.”
“It might be scary at first, but once you’re there and est
ablish a routine, you’ll be fine. You’ll be great. And Maddie, you are one of those smart people. You’ll fit right in.”
“Thanks, Seth. It’s nice to hear that someone believes in me.” I still wasn’t ready to commit to Stanford. But just knowing Seth thought I could helped a lot.
“I’m pretty sure anyone that knows you believes in you. You just have to believe in yourself.”
A happy feeling took over my chest. It was so nice to have him to talk to. Someone I trusted. Someone who I cared about. I wanted Seth to be able to do what he wanted to do. He deserved it. If a grant or scholarship didn’t come through for him, that’s when I’d tell him about the lottery. That’s when I’d tell him that I could help him … if he’d accept my help.
I woke up with my phone next to me, and my eyelashes crusty with mascara that I hadn’t washed off the night before. My memory slowly came back to me. I must have fallen asleep talking to Seth. We’d transitioned into talking about goals and the future, dreams we had, and then literal dreams we’d had. Seth had a lot of dreams about being chased. I’d had several about falling, where I’d jerked awake.
We had both fake-analyzed each other’s dreams.
“You are nervous that the expectations of others are going to catch you and force you to live a life you don’t want to live,” I’d said.
“You wish you were a bird, but aren’t,” he’d said.
I had laughed. “You don’t believe that dreams are trying to tell us something?”
“I think you can interpret dreams however you want. That there is no set meaning, only what you make of them.”
“I do wish I were a bird.”
“Don’t we all.”
“It’s late,” I had said, pulling the phone away from my ear to check the time. “And it’s a school night.”
“Are you going to melt?”
“I might.”
But we didn’t hang up, and my eyes became heavy as he talked about a movie he’d watched the night before.
“You still there?” I remember him asking at one point.
“I’ll be here as long as you want me,” I said in my half-asleep state.
Now I inwardly groaned. Had I really said that? How had he responded? I couldn’t remember now. Had he laughed that warm chuckle of his? The one he did when he was amused? Or had he whispered something back? Words I couldn’t conjure up now.
I rolled out of bed and headed for the shower. Hopefully I hadn’t ruined anything. Seth really was my grounding force right now and I didn’t want things to get awkward because my crush was showing.
I shut off the shower and grabbed the towel hanging on the hook outside the curtain. That’s when I heard voices. My parents were fighting. It was the first time in weeks I’d heard that sound and my heart sank.
I snuck down the hall, wondering what they could possibly have to fight about.
“Have you seen his new place?” my mom was saying. “He thinks he has more money than he actually has.”
“He has a lot of money,” my dad said.
“But no way of making more right now. Does he think it’s going to magically replace itself? He needs to go to school or get a job. That’s how it works. I know some people in this house don’t understand that concept.”
“Are you talking about me? You don’t think I know how money works?”
“I often wonder. You’ve seemed to think we could survive without it for the last three years.”
“How long are we going to have this argument?”
“Until you get it.”
“I’m not the one who just quit my job.”
“Excuse me?” she asked.
He growled. “Let’s not get sidetracked. We’re talking about Beau. He needs to figure it out on his own. Stop treating him like a child. He’ll learn.”
“With you as his teacher?”
“I’m glad to know that money doesn’t erase bitterness,” my dad said.
“And it doesn’t erase laziness either.”
“I’m going to play golf. Am I allowed to do that? Or should I just sit here and read all day?”
“Is that what you think I do all day? You don’t appreciate me. I worked for years for us. And now I’m here at home working to make our house nice, to be here for our kids, and you still don’t appreciate me.”
He let out a heavy sigh, and then Dad was walking my way. I could hear his angry footsteps on the tile. I quickly backtracked and shut myself behind my bedroom door.
I sat down on my bed. The door slammed down the hall, startling me. It was just one fight. Couples were allowed to fight. It didn’t mean that everything would come crumbling down. But it felt that way.
As I headed to class I noticed Blaire and Elise in a tight huddle around Blaire’s locker. I stopped and waited for a moment, but they remained, talking quietly with each other, deep in conversation, like they’d been that way for hours.
I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, trying to decide if I wanted to go up the aisle and see what was causing so much intensity. My decision was made for me when Elise glanced up and met my eyes.
I smiled and lifted my hand in a wave, which hung there, only half committed, when she looked back to Blaire and said something. Blaire turned around, a guilty expression on her face. Had they been discussing me? It was the only explanation for this reaction.
“Hi,” I said, feeling more than awkward. I forced myself to walk toward them. “What are you guys doing? Did you meet here before school without me?” I’d said it as a joke, to try to lessen the tension, but the way they exchanged a glance made me realize they had.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I was just filling Elise in on the article,” Blaire explained.
“Oh.” I hadn’t decided who I was going to tell and who I wasn’t, but Elise was definitely one of the ones I was. “Okay.” I still didn’t understand why this had required a special early meeting. Or why I wasn’t included in said meeting.
“We know who talked to the journalist,” Blaire said.
My heartbeat ramped up. “You do? Who?”
“Trina,” Blaire said.
“What? Why do you think that?”
“It makes the most sense,” Blaire replied. “She’s been nosing into your life since the second she found out you won the lottery. It stands to reason that she would be gathering information to use to her benefit.”
My eyes shot from Blaire to Elise, who shrugged, then avoided my gaze by kicking at a rock by her foot. I had thought they were going to give me solid proof, but this was just conjecture.
I sighed. “I mean, I guess it could’ve been her, but it really could’ve been anybody, right? I don’t think that’s enough proof to accuse her of anything.”
Blaire threw her hands in the air. “She’s the only one with any motivation.”
“And what motivation is that?”
“She’s sinister. She thought you were getting too much attention or were going to dethrone her or something.”
“I think whoever did this was motivated by money. They were probably paid. And money could be a motivation for anyone,” I said. “What do you think, Elise?”
“I don’t know. I mean, I guess.”
“Why are you defending Trina?” Blaire asked me.
“Because she’s been nice to me and I don’t want to jump to conclusions based on speculation.”
“You don’t trust our opinions?” Blaire asked.
“It’s not that at all. It’s just that anyone could’ve done it. For all I know, one of you did it.”
Blaire’s mouth dropped open. “What?”
“I’m not saying that you did; I’m just saying we have no proof.”
“You’re changing, Maddie,” Blaire said.
My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What? How?”
“Ever since you won the lottery it’s like you don’t care about the things you used to. You got a C on your history quiz.”
“I did?” She�
�d obviously graded it for Mr. Stovall. But she couldn’t wait for me to find that out on my own? It was the first C I’d ever gotten in my life and it hit me like a punch to the gut. “It should be okay,” I covered quickly. “It’s only a small part of the grade. My other scores will help me maintain an A.” I hoped that was the truth.
“You would have never been okay with a C before,” Elise said.
“I’m not okay with it now. But there’s not much I can do about it. I’m trying to make myself feel better.” Tears were threatening and I did not want my emotions to take over this conversation.
“We’re just saying, we want the old Maddie back,” Blaire said. “The one who knew who her friends were and had her eye on her goal.”
“I thought I still was that Maddie. I’m not trying to act different. People around me are treating me differently now that I’m rich.”
“Don’t pay attention to them,” Elise said.
“I’m talking about you,” I said quietly. “Both of you.”
Blaire looked hurt. Her eyes were just as shiny as mine felt. “We just don’t want to see Trina take advantage of you. Your new financial status and need to be popular are going to end up hurting you.”
“My need to be popular?” I asked, shocked. “I don’t have that need.”
“But you’re reveling in it, hanging out with Trina and her friends. You seem to love all the attention you’re getting at school.”
“I hate the attention.”
“That’s not how you’re acting.”
“I went out to lunch with them because you guys were both busy!” I looked around but thankfully my outburst hadn’t attracted attention. I was glad we were surrounded on either side by lockers; it kept this conversation more private.
“You went shopping with Trina twice, bought a car she talked you into. Bought clothes she wanted you to buy. Even if you don’t think she wrote the article, you at least have to admit that she’s using you.”
“How does me buying a car and clothes mean she’s using me?”
“You bought the car from her dad?”
“He gave me a discount,” I said.
She tilted her head in a “poor naïve girl” expression. “You think you buying that car didn’t benefit him at all? I’d be curious to know how much money he saved you. How much you could’ve bought it for elsewhere.”