“The computer science program is good, the scholarship money is good and,” he looks over my shoulder, “you know someone has to be around to get him to the ER every few weeks.”
I laugh, tears burning my eyes. George comes behind me and wraps his arms around the two of us, squeezing me in the middle. An Evans brother sandwich.
If only their father could see them now.
11
Starlee
The next week passes quickly. Everyone is busy with work, deadlines, weddings, and more. Jake and I study every night together at the kitchen table at his house—each ending with a simple kiss that lights a hunger in the pit of my belly. A hunger that he seems to have banished, and my insecurities grow.
There’s not much time to worry about it, though. George overtakes the living room with his artwork, trying to decide which ones to display at the show in next week. He grows frazzled—erratic—his ADHD coming out full force. Mom, being a great organizer, does her best to help him focus and pick the right pieces, but it’s not enough to settle him. More than once I’ve seen his bedroom light on late at night and he emerges in the morning with bleary, red eyes and paint caked beneath his nails.
“You’ll need to head to the art show on Friday morning and hang your work by eleven a.m. The actual gallery show is at six, which will give you a few hours to tour the campus and get ready,” Ms. Peterman says to George during class one day. He’s spending most of his days in the art room now with counselor approval. I listen to them talk while I work on my own project. It’s terrible. My art has suffered greatly since he was removed from my class and is no longer there to guide me through the process.
She continues, “BSAD is giving you a room for the day and night—they have guest housing on campus. It’ll give you a good idea of what it’s like to live down there.”
“Thanks, Ms. Peterman, I just hope I’ve picked out the best pieces.”
“I think you made some solid choices.” She smiles at him. “Don’t stress about it so much. You’ve already been accepted. Your scholarship applications are completed and your case worker, Mrs. DeLange, is working on getting you additional funding from the state.” She squeezes his arm. “Just have fun.”
“I’ll try.”
“Oh,” she says, rummaging through some paperwork on her desk. She pulls up a packet. “There are two tickets for the
show in there. I assume you’d like to invite your brother.”
I look up at the same time his eyes slide to me. There’s a question in them, an invitation.
“Thank you,” he says, taking the packet. “For everything, really.”
She bushes back her hair, her fingers dyed with indigo ink. “You’re a once-in-a-lifetime student, George Evans. It’s been a pleasure to work with you.”
Her words make him blush and across the room, tears prick at my eyes. He’s so talented, so kind and sweet. She’s right. He’s a once-in-a-lifetime.
And I’m lucky enough to have him in mine.
12
Dexter
I’m in the middle of prepping this month’s pies when the chime on the door rings. It’s after hours and everyone is so busy they’ve pretty much left me alone over here. I don’t mind it—I like the solitude of baking. It’s like my place of zen.
I hear a clang, followed by a low curse, “Shit,” and George appears in the doorway. “I didn’t break anything.”
“Uh huh.” I roll the dough with the pin, getting it the perfect thickness. He walks across the kitchen, frowning at the three baskets of lemons.
“Really? Lemon meringue?”
“Not every pie is going to be your favorite.” I sprinkle some flour on the dough and continue rolling. “The market had a really good supply of lemons. Seemed like a good time.”
“If you say so.” He picks up a lemon and tosses it in the air. “Can I ask you something.”
I grunt, not looking up. I don’t know what he’s doing in here.
“You know my show is on Friday night.” I nod. There’s no way not to notice this. The entire house has been overtaken by his artwork. It’s half the reason I’m hiding in the kitchen. “And they gave me two tickets. I would have given one to Sierra and then Charlie, but you know…”
“Yeah.” I know.