Oh, Brother!

by Cochran, Peg

  “He’s your neighbor, isn’t he, Mac?” Ashley and Hannah were fooling around, and Ashley crashed into my desk. The sub looked up from her magazine, made a face at us and then went back to her reading.

  “Who are you talking about?”

  “Alex. Alex Woodmere.”

  “Yeah, he lives next door.”

  “He’s awfully hot, don’t you think?” Ashley and Hannah were staring at Alex and giggling.

  I looked over to where he was sitting. He had on a black sweatshirt with a bunch of tags hanging from the zipper—the kind you get at ski lifts and places like that.

  He is kind of hot, I guess. With nice arms and crinkly eyes. Funny how I had never noticed it before.

  Chapter 16

  Dear Lucy Love,

  Where is the best place to meet boys?

  Sincerely,

  Looking

  Dear Looking,

  Try right next door.

  Yours,

  Lucy Love

  My mother ambushed me in my room after dinner for a talk. I hate when she does that. I was just opening my door, and there she was waiting for me like some kind of trained assassin hunting down an Arab terrorist.

  “I want to ask you something,” she came in without asking and stood there looking around. “You really need to get this cleaned up.”

  I nodded which is what I always do when she says that. She will forget about it as soon as she leaves my room. She really doesn’t care about me at all anymore.

  “Do you know what’s wrong with Travis?”

  “Wrong? Travis?” I could feel my face getting hot and hoped my mother wouldn’t notice.

  “Yes. He’s been acting rather strangely lately. Mark and I are getting worried. It’s not like him, Mark says.”

  That’s great. She’s worried about Travis and never even thinks about me anymore. I really am practically a half orphan or something.

  “Do you have any idea what might be bothering him?”

  “Me? No. It’s not like we spend a lot of time together or anything.”

  “I did so hope the two of you would get along.” My mother had taken a tissue from her pocket and was wiping down the top of my dresser. I don’t know why she bothers. The dust will just fall back down again the minute her back is turned.

  “We get along just fine. Really.”

  My mother gave me that look that mothers always do-like they have x-ray vision or something. She shook her head. “You barely talk to him. Think about how he feels...moving in here with us. It can’t be easy for him.”

  “Yeah? Well now he has you making pancakes for him and stuff.”

  “Oh, Mac.” My mother gave a little cry and came and sat on the edge of my bed. “You’re not jealous, are you? You’re still the most special girl in the world to me.”

  I hate when my mother gets all mushy like that. It makes me feel weird.

  “It hasn’t been easy for any of us. I realize that. Mark and I are trying to get used to being married. You and Travis are learning to become part of a new family.” My mother leaned over and lifted my chin with her finger.

  “You do like Travis, don’t you? He’s a very nice young man. So polite and considerate. I’d think anyone would like to have him for a stepbrother.”

  Sure, Mom. I imagine half the girls in school would like to have him for a stepbrother. And that’s because they don’t know what it’s like. I get to see him every day and watch his every movement if I want. But he’s off-limits. Untouchable. It’s like being in a candy store but not being allowed to have any. Basically, it sucks. I liked it better when I would walk the halls hoping to catch a glimpse of him or hang around his classroom waiting for him to come out.

  “We’re just a little concerned, that’s all.” My mother got up and began fiddling around with the stuff on top of my dresser trying to make neat little rows of all the bottles and things. “What about that girl? Are they still going out?”

  She turned around suddenly, and for a minute I thought she knew. But how could she? As long as I didn’t say anything, no one would ever know about that email.

  “I think they might have broken up. Travis did say something about it the other day.”

  My mother looked triumphant. Like she’d won the lottery or something. “I told Mark it was probably something to do with a girl. Well, that’s all right then. He’ll get over it. Young people always do.”

  I thought about that later—after my mother left. About how Travis would get over Kristen. My mother is usually right. After all, she is a grown-up, and they’re always telling us how they know best about absolutely everything.

  But this time I think she is wrong. Travis isn’t going to get over Kristen.

  So I think I am going to have to do something to get them back together. Since it is more or less my fault they broke up.

  Although not really. Because I would never have done something like that in a million years if it hadn’t been for Amber and the picture of me with Mathew Tacy’s hand down my dress.

  Clementine always has to go out right away when I get home. She acts like she has been stuck in the house for a million years or something. Of course when I open the door she takes her time and sniffs the air for a couple of minutes before venturing even a paw outside. Today Rufus went rushing past her and into the yard. I don’t know what got into him all of a sudden. Normally he can hardly drag himself down to his bowl for something to eat and then back to his pillow again for another nap.

  I guess it must have spooked Clementine or something because she scrambled right up the maple tree beside the fence in our backyard. When I ran out she was sitting on one of the branches grooming her tail. I called her, but she pretended not to hear. Which is so incredibly typical of cats.

  I guess she’ll come down when she’s ready. As usual, she has picked a really stupid time to decide to get some fresh air. It’s getting very windy, the skies are dark, and I think it’s going to rain. And if there’s one thing Clementine really dislikes—other than a certain cat food my mother once bought because it was on sale—it’s rain.

  Mrs. French gave us a whole bunch of stupid words to learn for a vocab test tomorrow. If we actually went out and used some of these words, no one would know what we were talking about. They would think we were speaking some foreign language or something. Like German. And since I practically failed the last vocab quiz, my mother is making me write each word down on an index card. Then she’s going to help me with them. Which is horrible because we will have to go over and over them until I get every one right which will take a gazillion years because these words are so incredibly stupid and useless. And I will probably miss my favorite television program. Sometimes I really hate Mrs. French.

  I was writing down the last word when I heard something splattering against the kitchen windows. I looked out the back door. Big blotches of rain were landing on the patio. I pulled my sweater up over my head and ran outside.

  Clementine was still in the tree. Her fur was all wet and plastered down, and I thought I heard her meowing although it was hard to tell since the wind was making so much noise banging everything around.

  I called her, but she didn’t move. I think she must be stuck or something. Or afraid to come back down. Cats are so incredibly stupid because they will climb up some place high without thinking about the fact that they have to be able to come back down again.

  I wondered if I should call the fire department? Although my mother will have a spazz if I do that. Last time she went on and on about what a waste it was to call out a bunch of trained men, not to mention some very expensive equipment, just because a stupid animal had gotten itself stuck in a tree. But people on TV and in the movies do it all the time, so how was I supposed to know? It’s practically their job, isn’t it? Besides, Clementine is not just any animal. She has been around almost since I was born.

  I couldn’t decide what to do. She was too far up for me to reach her, and besides, I haven’t climbed a tree since I was li
ke eight years old. And that time I fell out, and my mother had to take me to the emergency room right in the middle of this family picnic, and she forgot all about the baked beans in the oven, and they exploded. And now Aunt Janice and Grandma think she doesn’t know how to cook which isn’t true since she has taken a course in it and everything, but they refuse to believe her.

  I thought about getting the ladder, but it is very heavy, and even Mark has to huff and puff and swear a lot getting it out of the garage. By now it was raining pretty heavily. My hair was soaked, and water was dripping off my nose.

  “Why are you standing out here in the rain?” Alex opened the gate between our two yards and walked over to where I was standing.

  I motioned toward the maple tree. “Clementine seems to be stuck.”

  Alex looked up and frowned slightly. He has very dark brows and very blue eyes I noticed. “Have you tried calling her?”

  “Well, duh, of course I have. But she doesn’t listen.”

  “Oh, that’s right. I forgot. She’s a female cat.” Alex grinned and ducked as I aimed a punch at his shoulder.

  I grabbed his sleeve, but he pulled away and got his arms around me, pinning mine. I tried to get free, but he is very strong. I squirmed around and suddenly we were facing each other. He was looking at me kind of strangely. His eyes were all dark and brooding looking, and he was breathing heavily. I could feel his chest going up and down against mine.

  For a minute I thought he was going to kiss me. I think I even closed my eyes. I do know I wanted him to which was really weird.

  In the end, Alex got out his climbing equipment and went up the tree as easily as a monkey or something. It really is amazing how good he is at stuff like that. Clementine tried to scratch him, but he just held her out to the side, pushed off from the branch and rappelled back down.

  The weather is so weird. By the time dinner was over, the rain had stopped, the sidewalks were dry and the clouds had run off to go rain on somebody else for a change.

  My mother really doesn’t care about me at all. She forgot all about my vocab quiz, and she and Mark decided to walk to the ice cream parlor to get a couple of cones for dessert. They asked me if I wanted to go too. But since I can’t think of anything more hideously embarrassing than being seen at night with my parents I decided that I would rather stay home and tweeze my eyebrows or shave my legs or something equally fun and glamorous. Which is a shame because a double dip chocolate cookie dough cone would taste really good right now.

  But instead I sat down to read through my stupid vocab words. It really is unfair of my mother to go off and leave me to struggle all by myself. She’s the one who keeps insisting I get good grades and all.

  It was really hard to concentrate. I even tried putting the TV on which sometimes helps. But my mind kept going back to me and Alex in the back yard this afternoon. I can’t believe I never really noticed him before. I mean, noticed him as a guy. Maybe it’s because we have known each other like forever. Which made me wonder if he has noticed me? As a girl, that is.

  For some reason I really want him to.

  Chapter 17

  Dear Lucy Love,

  My girlfriend and I had a fight, and now she’s not talking to me. What should I do?

  Sincerely,

  Broken-hearted

  Dear Broken-hearted,

  Whatever you do, don’t send flowers.

  Yours,

  Lucy Love

  How could I have been so stupid? Here I’ve lived next door to this super hot guy for practically my whole life, and I was too dumb to notice. I mean, Travis is still pretty cool, but now he’s my stepbrother and off-limits and all. Besides, Alex is a couple of inches taller and has been to Europe and stuff. And he has nice arms and crinkly eyes.

  And if he finds out about that email, he will probably never, ever talk to me again.

  I am going to have to do something. Travis looks totally miserable and all this guilt is going to make me old before my time. I will be the only teenager graduating high school with wrinkles, gray hair and a cane.

  The problem is, I don’t know what to do. I could tell Travis about the email, but I don’t have the nerve. It would be less scary to go bungee jumping or sky diving or something. I have to find some way to get Travis and Kristen back together.

  I was going through the living room when I noticed the flowers Mark brought my mother. They are drooping and have curling brown edges, but my mother is nursing them along as if they were her only child. I think she cares more for those flowers than she does me.

  A thought struck me as I was opening the refrigerator. I could send flowers to Kristen and pretend they were from Travis! It worked for Mark. He and my mother are all lovey-dovey again thanks to a couple dozen roses.

  I would have to take the money out of the cash I’d saved for the Life Cycle tickets, but how much would some stupid flowers cost anyway? Mrs. Neimeir down the street asked me to baby-sit on Saturday so I’d probably make up the money and have some to spare.

  There is a florist not far from our house which is good because I was able to walk and not have to make up some story to get my mother to take me. She always insists on knowing everything. I have absolutely no privacy.

  The florist shop was cool inside and smelled like a million gardens. The lady behind the counter was kind of scary with long, red fingernails and all her hair pulled back tight into a bun.

  She kept asking me if I was sure I wanted two dozen roses, and then looked rather startled when I said I wanted them delivered to Kristen. She probably thinks I am in love with Kristen or something, but that is just the price I will have to pay to fix this mess I’m in.

  She did a bunch of figuring on a calculator taped to the counter, tapping each number with the tip of her nail.

  “That will be eighty dollars and seventy-seven cents, please.”

  I told her she’d obviously made some sort of mistake. I guess that is why Mr. Simmons is always telling us we need to know our math facts ourselves and not rely on calculators and things like that.

  “There’s no mistake. Do you want the flowers or not....”

  “Fine.” Who knew a bunch of stupid flowers could cost so much? No wonder my mother has been taking such good care of those roses. I got out my wallet and handed over the money.

  This better work. I have just given up the money I needed for my ticket to see Life Cycle.

  Not to mention the money I have to give Amber if I lose that bet.

  Travis was in the kitchen when I got back. I felt a little less guilty now that I’d sent the flowers, but not much. He still looks terrible and doesn’t eat half as much as he used to.

  I found myself opening my mouth and telling him the whole story about Amber and the email and Kristin and just everything. Well, almost everything. I didn’t say anything about Mathew Tacy, Mathew Tacy’s hand or the electrical tape. But it was like I couldn’t stop, or as if I had swallowed some of that truth serum they give to spies and people like that. I started to wonder what my mother put in the stew we had last night for dinner. It would be just like her to put truth serum in it without telling me.

  “You sent that email to Kristen?” Travis jumped up from the table. “Why would you do something like that?”

  I mumbled something about Amber, and how I just had to do it.

  “Amber is a jerk. I never want to see her again.” Travis had his hand on the door to the garage. “I never want to see you again either, but we’re stuck living in the same stupid house.”

  He slammed the door. Hard.

  I had to buy lunch today because I forgot mine on the counter at home. My mother is going to have a cow over it and go on and on about how wasteful it is, as if one little turkey sandwich would keep the world’s starving from...well...starving or something. But that’s okay. My life so totally sucks that it can’t get any worse.

  I came out of the cafeteria with my tray and looked around the lunchroom.

  Amber, Laurel and Tory we
re at the table over in the corner where they normally sit. It’s not like we have assigned seats or anything, but people just know not to sit at certain tables, and Amber’s is one of them.

  Amber waved to me, but I just ignored her. I never want to sit with her again. I was walking away when I saw Laurel coming in my direction.

  “Amber wants to see you.” She took me by the arm and marched me over to Amber’s table.

  Amber looked upset. Like maybe she was getting a pimple or something. Or had found a whole bunch of new split ends.

  I started to put my tray down, but Amber stopped me. She got up from her seat and stood in front of me, her face inches from mine.

  “You told Travis about the email, didn’t you?

  “I...uh...”

  “Now he won’t even talk to me.”

  I suddenly noticed that Amber has very pointy eye teeth. Like a wolf.

  “I warned you, Mac.”

  She shook her finger in my face. “You are so going to regret you did that!”

  I stared around the cafeteria. Everyone was talking, eating and laughing. No one cared about how miserable I felt. Maybe my mother is right, and teenagers are all selfish and only interested in themselves.

  Emily, Celia and I didn’t have a regular table like Amber. I looked around and finally spotted them at this small table pushed up against the wall right by the door. No one ever sat there unless they had to.

  I walked over toward them. I was kind of nervous, but I reminded myself that we have been friends forever, and I put up with stuff all the time like Celia’s unibrow and Emily’s obsession with Irish step dancing. So maybe they would give me a chance to explain about everything.

  They both got very quiet when I got to their table. Celia took a big bite of her sandwich and then a huge sip of milk which always grosses me out. I mean, couldn’t she swallow the sandwich first? How good can milk taste when it’s all mixed in with bologna or tuna salad or something.