Eight Boys and a Walker girl

2 | Whatever

2 | Whatever

You know those fun-fairs where you have loads of cool attractions and rides, and one of them is that hall of mirrors? You know the one where you stand in the middle and all the mirrors around you reflect you back, but contorted into different shapes, heights and sizes?

Well, that's what I feel like right now, taking in the McCartney boys. It's like there's one boy stood in a hall of mirrors, a boy with sort of dusky-brown hair and green eyes, and there are seven mirrors reflecting another version of him back to me- maybe taller, maybe slimmer, maybe smaller, maybe with slightly longer hair- but despite these small differences I swear to you they all look the same.

It would be creepy if they weren't all so damn cute.

Not that I'm staring or anything.

I can see mum smirking at me from where she's still stood by the car. I can read her expression clearly- Now what do you think of sharing a house with eight boys, Evvie? Huh? Huh?

I stick out my tongue at her.

"Evvie, these are the McCartney boys. Harry, Tyler, Francisco, Julian, Tyger, Caleb, Jodi and Bailey," Mum says in a sunny voice, "Boys, this is my daughter- introduce yourself, Evvie!"

I feel like she's one of those teachers at a new school, telling you to go up to the front of the class and introduce yourself to everybody. I roll my eyes and open my mouth, planning to keep it short and snappy- and let them know who's boss here.

"Hi, my name is Eveline Maria-"

"Hi, my name is Eveline Maria!" one of the older boys imitates, in a crude, high-pitched tone that I guess is supposed to be my voice, and one of the younger boys laughs. I glare at him, then turn to Mum and positively shoot daggers at her with my eyes.

One of the older boys sees my look and shoves his brother lightly. "Give her a break, Ty, you've just met her."

'Ty' sticks out his tongue at his older brother.

"You're such a spoilsport, Harry."

"Ah- let's just- save the introductions for indoors, shall we?" Mum interjects, voice high-pitched, and I wonder if she's already started to regret offering to take the boys in. I'm already wondering if I was exactly sane last night when I agreed to Mum's crazy plan. Mum steps forward and unlocks the front door, stepping aside to let the boys in, watching slightly mournfully as they stampede all over her cream-coloured carpet, leaving mud tracks. I go in last, lingering by the door long enough to whisper in her ears- "Good idea now, mother?"

Then I step inside and head into the living-room before she can tell me off.

In the living-room, we encounter a problem.

"There's not enough chairs," I say loudly as mum enters the room. I'm sat in my chair- one of the twins- I knew they must be the twins because they looked so the same to the point that it was kind of scary- had tried to take it, but I'd managed to get it back with a dirty look- but the rest of the boys were squashed up together on the sofa to the point where I felt almost uncomfortable for them. It can't be nice having your older brother in your lap.

Mum bites her lip. She clearly hasn't thought of that.

"We can...get in the garden chairs," she says at last, "We'll do that in a mo. And we can buy a bigger table next weekend, so we can all fit round it. But for now- you'll have to cope."

"Don't worry, Mrs Walker," says the eldest boy- that must be Harry, the nineteen-year-old. He's definitely the spokesperson for the group, and he has those kind of pretty-boy looks that all the girls at school love- slightly longish fawn-brown hair shot with lighter sun-bleached streaks, green eyes that crease up when he smiles and a dimple in his left cheek.