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And even if it could work, I don’t want to do it. Charming? Not me. I’m not funny, either. And I can’t promise I’ll be good when I’m pretty sure I did nothing wrong. I don’t make promises I can’t keep. I shouldn’t have to beg for something she shouldn’t have taken away from me. And I’m definitely not doing dishes.
I proceed down the other staircase. The light is on in the kitchen. An invitation.
Yeah, right. It’s because my dad isn’t home yet and there’s dinner on the table.
I ignore that and head straight to the ref. Let’s see. Some leftover casserole from breakfast this morning. Half a BLT sandwich – probably the half Giselle couldn’t finish. I’m not touching that. Macaroni and cheese. Ham. Pickles. A slice of chocolate cake. Chicken wings. Nachos. Now we’re talking.
I take the box of wings and the soggy nachos and start eating them on the counter. I make it through three wings before the back door opens and Giselle shows up. She stands in the doorway with her hands on her hips, her favorite pose these days.
“Well, look who’s here.” I lick my fingers. “My little sister, the newly certified suck-up. And here I thought you didn’t have any talent.”
She pouts.
“So what did tattling to Mom get you? A new nail polish? Permission to go on a date with Payne’s little brother?”
Her eyebrows go up slightly. What? She thought I didn’t notice the way she looks at him?
She sighs as she approaches the counter. “He doesn’t even know I exist.”
I click my tongue. “Poor Giselle.”
She scowls.
“Why don’t you run to him and tell him what you think I did, too? Maybe he’ll reward you with a kiss.”
“He doesn’t care about his brother. They hate each other.”
“Really?” I pick up another wing. “Then he and I might just get along.”
Another sigh. “You know Lee doesn’t hate you, right?”
Lee. That’s what she’s called Leander since she could talk. It was all she could pronounce. The fact that she still does tells me just how much she still adores him. And that she’s still a baby.
“I don’t know that,” I answer.
Giselle shakes her head. “I can’t believe you’re saying Payne and Lee are the same.”
“I didn’t.”
“Well, neither are you and Cody, so you won’t get along.”
I shrug. “Fine.”
She rests her elbows on the counter. “And just so you know, Mom didn’t reward me with anything because I didn’t ask for anything.”
I look at her. “Sure you don’t want a fancy new case for your phone?”
“I’m not a dog who does tricks for treats.”
I throw the bone I’ve just nibbled in front of her. She flicks it away with a look of disgust.
“Gross.”
“Okay. You’re not a dog, but I know you’re no saint, either. What are you after?”
“Nothing,” she answers in an irritated voice. Then she draws a deep breath. “I didn’t tattle on you, okay?”
“You told Mom about something you saw me do that you weren’t supposed to see in the first place, which got me in trouble,” I point out. “I’d say that’s tattling.”
“I wasn’t tattling. I was… bragging.”
Bragging?
She fidgets with her silver bracelet as she looks away. “I actually thought what you did was kind of cool.”
That innocent look on her face lets me know she’s not lying. She admires me for what I did. Heck, she’s even blushing. How sweet. At least, I would have thought so if she hadn’t gotten me in trouble with Mom.
“Well, it doesn’t matter, does it?” I tell her. “What matters is you couldn’t keep your mouth shut. Thanks to that, I don’t have my laptop.”
Giselle gives me a look of remorse. “I didn’t think Mom would take your laptop away.”
“What? You thought she’d be thrilled? That she’d think it was cool, too?”
Her arms drop to her sides. “I’m sorry, okay?”
Apology not accepted.
“You know what? Why don’t you go and tell Mom I’m eating her chicken wings?” I suggest instead as I grab another. “Maybe this time, she’ll give you a reward.”
She rolls her eyes. “Why don’t you tell her yourself? Maybe she’ll give you your laptop back as a reward.”
“I doubt that.”
“Well, I won’t.” Giselle shows me her back as she walks to the fridge. “I’m not supposed to be here anyway.”
That reminds me. Shouldn’t she be having a sleepover next door?
“I just came to get some cheese slices to snack on.” She opens the door of the fridge. “Aster likes them.”
I know. As much as it annoys me, I know Aster Higgins more than I like to admit, more than I wish I did. I know she’s a year younger than Giselle and used to dress like her. I know her mother died when she was ten and that she lives with her overprotective father, Noah. I know she likes the color of her hair – deep reddish gold like a sunset sky, like her mother’s and the coat of the retriever she used to have – but keeps it short because neither she nor her father knows how to braid it. I know she has a collection of scarves. When it’s winter, she wears a different one each day. I know she loves to draw and she’s good at it. I know she likes to dance in her room when she’s happy and that she watches sappy movies when she’s sad because tears don’t come easily to her.
