My Best Friend's Brother (2 page)

She popped a bubble noisily. “He said he needs a change of scenery! Personally, my idea of
change of scenery
is someplace where I can’t freeze to death getting from the front door to the car!”

“Well, Alaska attracts a lot of people.”

“I guess,” she said. “It’s just weird how he’s giving up life with our
real
dad to live with a stepdad.”

“Oh.” And I immediately added—before her mouth could start moving again— “It’s almost ten. I really have to go, or my dad’s gonna freak.”

“Okay. I’d like to drive you, but I have to wait until the plane lands.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll catch a cab. Tell him I said
hi
, okay? We’ll get together before you and your mom leave, right?”

“Of course we will! I’ll call you.” We hugged briefly and she waved.

I walked through the shrinking crowd, out the revolving doors.

I may live in Alaska, but I
don’t
live in an igloo, I
don’t
ice-fish in my living room, and my father
doesn’t
hunt polar bears for dinner! In fact, the only thing my father hunts for is words in the thesaurus.

I hopped into one of the dozen cabs outside. “1313 Massacre Lane, please.” Yes, I live on
Massacre
Lane. I’m not sure
what
my parents were thinking. No wonder Mom’s never home, I’ll bet even
she
doesn’t want to live here!

The
only
good thing about our house is that we have one.

Although I haven’t decided on much else, I
have
decided that I need to move out. The sooner the better!

I gave the cabbie thirty dollars once we reached my house. It’s a simple house on a three-acre lot in the suburbs. There are eight homes on my block and mine is halfway down the street. The others are spread out from corner to corner.

There’s a fourteen-year-old pervert living next door. One inky night, he tried to get a peek at me undressing in my bedroom. He was on our lawn with binoculars. Dad caught him and dragged him home, furious.

We have more than just perverts next door—we also have hermits. Our other neighbors rarely leave their homes. When they do, they dart to their cars, pissed off.
Though maybe I only look when it’s fifty-below, they have snot frozen to their noses and their cars won’t start. Oddly enough, they still choose to live here.

Our neighbors on Salvation Drive moved here one summer from southern Arizona. Rumor has it they always wanted to see snow, and an acquaintance down south convinced them that the winters are
mild
. Never mind they were talking about
southeastern
Alaska, certainly not the interior!

Our house stands out on our street because it’s a gray and black A-frame, which, in my opinion, just makes it look miserable. Not that the other homes look any more cheerful—in the winter, my street makes me feel like I’m passing through the funerary industry.

Behind the navy front door was my father, seated on the black leather couch, pocket watch in hand. Yes, he really is
that
ridiculous! And on nights I’m on a date, he makes a habit of being even
more
ridiculous, if you can imagine that!

“You made it,” he exclaimed, “and you’re two minutes early!”

I groaned. “Hi, Dad.” I joined him on the couch.

Dad is a relatively short man, about five-foot-six, with spiky hair and a thin, serious face. He’s a bit of a hermit, too, indoors writing all day. He writes for work and he writes for fun. And tonight, despite my presence, he stared at his pocket watch still, scratching his chin with his index finger.

“I’m home, Dad,” I announced, rolling my eyes.

“Yes,” he agreed, “and Sullivan has another fifteen minutes until
his
curfew. He’s out with friends.”

“He has
friends
?!” I gaped.

Dad shot me a disapproving look.

I silently pondered why my twelve-year-old brother has more free time than I do. Of course, I didn’t ask. Dad grows annoyed when we suspect any sort of favoritism.

After being ignored for a few minutes, I hurried to my room. Just like Lilly’s hooked on pink, I’m hooked on turquoise. It’s even the color of my plush carpet. Whereas Lilly’s bedroom walls are pink, mine are still white. At least, in a few places—my walls are plastered in puppies, kittens, boy bands and movie posters. And everything smells like cotton candy from the body spray I use.

I plopped myself on my bed. I’m glad it’s a Friday night and I have all weekend to work on math problems, because if my grades in that stupid class drop any lower, I’m going to be in some serious trouble.

Ideally I would spend all of Saturday at the mall, and all of Sunday with Lilly. That is, if she isn’t too busy catching up on things with her
brother.

I pondered his name again, and it killed me. I’m pretty sure it’s either Thomas or Markus.
Or something like that.

I shifted to my stomach across my blue comforter, holding my head, gazing at my walls in frustration. I couldn’t recall his name for the life of me. Eventually, I gave up. It’s not like Lilly would quiz me. I’d just not talk about him until she mentions his name. Then I wouldn’t seem rude or like I didn’t pay attention to her. So my mind wanders—so what?

I got to thinking about Jake, and what a jerk he turned out to be. I wanted someone nice. Someone who’s not pushy. Tragically, there’s a pretty crappy selection at my school.

I felt myself sigh as I dozed off, forgetting about math. At least I could
dream
about the perfect guy.

III

Saturday was wasted on algebra. Twenty-four hours of my life wasted solving for
x
. It makes me sick.

Sunday, unreasonably loud pounding awoke me.

“Dad wants you downstairs!” Sullivan screamed obnoxiously as his fists hit my door. Music blasted from his headphones—that damn iPod’s going to make him deaf! “He says hurry up!”

I groaned and rubbed my eyes. I hadn’t removed my contacts before falling asleep—now my eyes were red and itchy. “Okay, Sullivan!” I barked.

A scrumptious mushroom-and-cheese omelet aroma crept in from under my door.

In my personal bathroom, I poked around my eyes impatiently, pulled out my contacts, soaked them briefly and put them back on. I put on a pair of hip hugger jeans and a blue shirt and ran a brush through my hair.

Dad was at the kitchen table, sipping his coffee and flipping through his beloved
Writer’s Digest
.

“Good morning,” he said, without looking at me.

“Morning, Dad.” I fell into my seat and practically inhaled the golden brown omelet, plump with melted cheddar and overflowing with mushrooms. “I’m going to the mall today,” I announced, silently hoping he’d let me. Sometimes Dad’s just in a stay-at-home kind of mood, but today he seemed passive. I think I’ve earned it, spending all of Saturday doing homework.

He chewed his food, his eyes glued to the magazine. “Sure, sweetie,” he mumbled.

I smiled and finished my breakfast.

“Don’t you have
homework
, Adonia?” Sullivan mocked in Dad’s direction.

I rolled my eyes.

Sullivan has brown hair that hangs halfway down his neck, which he parts down the middle and tucks behind his ears. His eyes are hazel and his mouth is too big for his face—no surprise! He teases me about everything, and even became friends with
Jake
after the break up. The little pest invited him over to play video games and kept me cornered in my room.

I shot him a look. Luckily, Dad hadn’t even looked up.

“Jake’s coming by today,” Sullivan informed me, looking for a reaction.

“So? I’ll be at the
mall
all day.” I took a sip of orange juice. “You know, I can hear your music all the way over here,” I said loudly, hoping Dad would lecture him again. But Dad still didn’t look up, and Sullivan pointed at me and laughed noiselessly.

“What do you two want for dinner?” Dad asked lamely, still reading.

Sullivan slammed his fists on the table. “Lasagna!”

Dad looked bewildered. “Lasagna? For the
third
time
this week?”

I shook my head and rinsed off my plate.

“Be back by
nine
,” Dad said. I turned and looked at him. “It’s a school night!” he briefed. Then he buried his head back in his magazine.

I sighed, walked to the front door and put on my sneakers.

“And keep that cell phone on!” he insisted from the kitchen.

I stepped into the chilly Alaskan air, headed for Mom’s silver Jeep Grand Cherokee. She lets me drive it while she’s away. She’s in Australia until late November, doing research on the Aborigines.

I cranked the engine and sat waiting in my seat. The car reeked of vanilla. I adjusted the automatic leather seat and carefully backed out of the long driveway. It was overcast out, like it’s going to snow. I’m not a fan of driving in snow, but it’s better than not driving at all. I haven’t crashed a car
yet
, and I’ve been driving since sixteen.

For a Sunday, the mall was pretty dead. It’s not a huge mall by any means. It has a pet store, a book store, a food court, a couple clothing stores, a Halloween shop, a music store, a movie theater, and an arcade. If you have lots of interests, you can spend a good day there. I’m particularly fond of the book and pet stores, though I couldn’t buy any pets there anyway, because pets are big no-no’s with my parents, especially Dad. When I get my own place, I’m buying a puppy before I even fill the fridge.

Upon entering the bookstore, I was greeted by a tall, nerdy clerk. He knows me. I’m one of the regulars.

I usually spend a while in there, browsing the young adult novels.

Classical music played over the loudspeaker, and the place smelled incredible—there’s nothing like the smell of ink and paper! At least, not for bookworms like me there isn’t!

I seated myself at the base of a bookshelf in the back of the store and looked through some books. I know you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, but I’m one of those people that do—I like to see what the guys portrayed inside look like, and read through the book briefly. I’m not into naughty books, but I’ll have to admit, I
am
seventeen, and I
am
curious.

I spent a good hour reading, ignoring all the passersby and the loud giggly girls—as I call them—who walked in and headed straight for the adult romance novels. You know, the books with the half-naked men and extremely content women on the cover?
Those
novels.

The girls gathered around in a circle, whispered loudly, read and pointed and giggled, and this would—on some days—go on for about thirty minutes straight. This time, though, they went on for nearly an hour, about twenty or so feet from me, laughing wildly. It annoyed the hell out of me.

I skimmed through a book titled
Love at the End of the Day
, which seemed like another I’m-going-away-to-college-and-I’ll-miss-you kind of book. The kind that depressed me in more ways than one, because I too was facing the uncertainty of college. And—what’s worse—I had no one to say goodbye
to
, because I was single.

I closed the book and sighed uneasily. My focus turned suddenly to a guy dressed in loose black jeans and a white muscle shirt. He wore a silver chain around his neck, held a black leather jacket, and strolled through the aisles in search of something. His hair was golden blonde, split down the middle like Sullivan’s, but far shorter, leveling off at the top of his ears. He stopped in an aisle in the center section of the store, between me and the giggly girls. I thought he stopped in the travel section, but I wasn’t sure. Not until he picked up an atlas of Alaska.

I watched him curiously for some time. I hoped he wouldn’t look my way, because I stared like he’s a Greek god or something.

This guy is
seriously
hot! Too hot to even
live
here!

He eagerly skimmed the atlas. After some time, he bent over, put it back on the shelf and picked up another. He stood back up and looked through it, and when he tilted his head my way I got a glimpse of his eyes. His eyes are a light crystal blue, unlike any I’ve ever seen before! They’re
incredible!
Too hot for words!

I jumped and practically juggled my cell phone when it rang. Looking around sheepishly, I hit the green
talk
button.

“Hi!” It was Lilly.

“Hi,” I breathed softly. And I nearly choked on my spit when I saw him eyeing me! His head was slightly turned my way.

“We need to get together. I’m leaving in the morning,” Lilly said, preoccupied in the background. “Do you want to meet at the ice rink? It’s been a week and I won’t have any practice for another three.” Chatterbox Lilly has a tendency to go off on tangents. This time I couldn’t catch it all because a Greek god distracted me.

His eyes alternated between me and his book, though each time our eyes met, he looked away. “Lilly,” I hissed so he couldn’t hear me, “there’s a
seriously hot guy
in here.”

She stopped talking to her mother in the background. “What? I didn’t hear you.”

I turned my head toward the bookshelf so he couldn’t read my lips. “There’s this guy in here, and he’s
really, really HOT
.” I turned my head in time to see him stick his nose back in the atlas. “Did you hear me?” I asked in my normal voice.

“Yeah,” she uttered, “something about a hot guy. So go talk to him!”

“I don’t know…” I was always the shy type.

“No, you should. Where are you?’

“At the mall,” I replied. Then I remembered. “Hey, how’s your brother?”
Please mention his name!

“Oh, he’s good,” she breathed. “He met Burke this morning, because Burke was on a business trip much of the weekend,” she said, going off on another tangent.

The giggly girls grew noisy, so I pressed the phone hard against my ear to try to make out what she was saying. I couldn’t catch most of it.

“Are you there?” is the next thing I heard.

“Yeah,” I breathed. “Can you come by the mall?”

“I’d like to, but I’m packing. Can you come by here? When I finish, maybe we can go skate?”

I was about to say
yes
when a smile formed on his lips. He was still looking at the atlas, but it felt like it was directed at me. I bit my lip, trying to decide—best friend or drop-dead gorgeous hot guy?
Ugh, decisions!
But what kind of a friend would I be if I refused to see her before she left on vacation? “I’ll be right—”