Chapter 3: Big Brother, Bigger Secrets

My brother was always busy. When I was asleep, he was out chasing the golden boy. When I was at school, he was still out chasing the golden boy. Sometimes I wondered if he ever slept at all.

Sometimes I’d wake up to the sound of the front door slamming, or the rumble of his old Chevy as he peeled out of the parking lot. But if I ever said there was a parent-teacher conference, my brother would drop everything, show up at school in the loudest shirt he owned, and strut right into my classroom to sit in my seat. The thick gold chain around his neck was so bright it nearly blinded me.

He’d throw open the classroom door, sunglasses perched on his head, and wink at my teacher like he owned the place. “Gotta make sure my girl looks good.”

He was so proud. He’d lean back in the chair, arms folded, grinning like he just won the lottery. His smile was infectious.

When grades came out and he saw me looking a little down, he’d comfort me. “It’s okay, even if you didn’t do great, your brother’s got money. You’ll inherit my company and the pig farm.” I blinked at that one—what pig farm?

He’d wink, trying to make me laugh, then he’d pick up the grade sheet and start searching from the bottom. “Hey, where’s your name? The teacher didn’t leave you out, did she?” He made a big show of it every time.

He’d squint at the paper, lips moving as he scanned the list. Only when he finally found me at the very top did he freeze, dumbfounded. “You make me so proud!” He looked like he might burst.

He’d go quiet for a second, just staring at the paper like he couldn’t believe it. I held it in for a long time before finally cracking a smile. The silence stretched between us, then broke.

He ruffled my hair. “Little liar. Who taught you that?” I rolled my eyes, but I could feel my chest lighten a little.

He tried to sound stern, but I could see the pride in his eyes. That night, he took me out for a steak dinner. Fancy place. He cut the steak into tiny pieces for me. Just as he handed it over, his phone rang. Someone on the other end said the golden boy and his girl were going out on a date tonight. The address was blah blah blah… I could see his jaw clench.

He glanced at his phone, jaw tight. My brother’s brows furrowed instantly. Without thinking, he said, “I’m having dinner with my girl. We’ll talk later…” His voice trailed off, but his eyes were hard.

He barely let them finish before hanging up.

He slid the phone across the table, face-down. “Eat up, kid.” He tried to sound casual, but his voice was softer than usual.

He pushed the plate toward me, then leaned over to make sure the pieces were easy to chew. He was always careful about stuff like that, even when he pretended not to care.

He was quiet, but his hands were steady. After dinner, he took me home, then hurried out again. He didn’t come back until late at night. And even then, he didn’t go to bed. He hid out on the balcony, smoking one cigarette after another. I could hear the lighter flicking, over and over.

The glow of his cigarette was the only light out there, a tiny ember in the dark. For a second, I wondered if he was crying. I rubbed my eyes and pushed open the balcony door.

The air was cool, tinged with smoke and the distant sound of cars. He was squatting against the wall, his profile cold in the swirling smoke, but his expression looked so lost. Looking closer, I saw his clothes were soaked, and there were bruises under his eyes, like he’d been in a fight. My heart clenched.

The moonlight caught the purpling bruise on his cheekbone. When he saw me, he immediately stubbed out his cigarette and stood up. “Just smoking, don’t want you breathing it in.” He sounded almost apologetic.

He tried to smile, but it came out crooked. I pretended not to hear. Shuffling over in my slippers, I stood on tiptoe to touch the spot where he was hurt. My hand hovered for a second before I reached out.

My fingers were cold, and his skin was fever-warm. The moment my cool fingertips touched his skin, he flinched, and his eyelashes quivered, fast and shaky.

“Does it hurt?” I asked softly.

He shrugged, trying to play it off. “Not as much as when Oreo and Duke bite me.” He tried to sound tough, but his voice cracked just a little.

Oreo and Duke were the family’s tuxedo cat and husky. I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t help smiling. He was always like this—making jokes to cover up the pain.

He grinned, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. I didn’t say anything. I just dove into his arms. I needed the hug as much as he did.

His hoodie smelled like laundry soap and cigarette smoke. “Bro, you need to shave. It’s prickly.” I wrinkled my nose, but held on tight.

He laughed, low and rumbling, and squeezed me tighter. I could feel his chest shake. When I got to high school, I shot up fast, almost like I’d been stretched out. My beanpole body turned into something almost athletic, less awkward. My brother started getting paranoid, asking every day in his most casual voice, “Hey, got a boyfriend yet? Is he tall?”

He’d try to sound nonchalant, but I could see him watching me from the corner of his eye. I frowned. “I don’t have a boyfriend.” I rolled my eyes for good measure.

He let out a breath. “Ha, guess I remembered wrong.” He scratched his head, pretending to be clueless. He was the worst liar. I just stared.

Every day after school, rain or shine, he’d always be there to pick me up. He’d stuff money into my backpack—any random pocket I checked, there’d be crisp hundred-dollar bills. It was like a weird treasure hunt.

Once I found a bill tucked inside my geometry book, another folded into my lunch bag. When I asked him about it, his eyes darted away. “Oh, maybe Oreo and Duke dragged them in.” He tried to keep a straight face, but I saw right through him.

He said it with a straight face, but the corners of his mouth twitched. He was so bad at lying, it was almost cute. I just stared.

I knew he gave me money because he was afraid some blond punk would lure me away with a Starbucks latte. He’d never admit it, but I could tell.

He’d grumble about overpriced coffee, but he’d still slip me enough for three. But—he always worried.

“There isn’t a single guy in the whole school better looking or richer than my brother.” I said it with a smirk, just to see him puff up.

I told him not to worry. I meant it.

He couldn’t hide his grin. “Glad you know it.” His chest puffed out, and he looked ten feet tall.