37. Little sister

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June

He gave me a wedding ring.

Yeah, sure, it wasn't serving as a wedding ring — still, he gave me a wedding ring.

I wasn't one for necklaces and bracelets and stuff. They only got in the way, dangling in your food or getting caught on your coat, and most of the time, the clasps were too tiny for my bad motor skills to handle.

But this ring... I was never going to take it off. It meant I belonged to them, to Sam and Nathan, that we were connected in a way that went further than just friendship. Family? Little sister?

I still couldn't believe Sam's behavior on my birthday. Yeah, it'd been funny to make Charlotte sweat a little, even though I doubted she'd feel threatened by me, a sixteen-year-old, disabled, make-up free girl wearing sneakers, only then... He took it too far.

Charlotte wasn't coming by the house anymore, and the consequence was that Nathan wasn't either. Thanks, Sam. Really great. Exactly what I wanted. I blamed him for it, so I gave him the silent treatment — I suppose I could've gone to my house, but there it was mom giving me the silent treatment. I tried to go to Hayley's as much as possible, only she had a baby brother who seemed to cry continuously, and most of the time, it resulted in a shouting match between her and her mom. Why did everyone I know have a messed-up relationship with their parents?

When I'd showed the ring to my dad, telling him the story behind it, he'd been smiling like a fool, inspecting the stone and saying he'd never seen such a beauty. Mom, on the other hand, had huffed and turned away from me. "Don't mind your mother, querida," he'd said, "she's just tired." But that wasn't it. She'd been tired many times in her life, and always had taken the effort to be cheerful for me. Not anymore. Guess she didn't really like me any longer.

If I were ever going to be a mom, I'd do differently. No yelling. No making my kid feel guilty for wanting to look good or loving certain birthday presents. No being away for long periods at the time. I actually made a note of those points on my phone, in the hope I wouldn't forget.

A few weeks after my birthday, I was staring at Nathan's name on my screen again. He'd been online thrice ever since I started doing it, and none of those times did he send me a message. He wasn't avoiding me; he'd explained very clearly it was Sam he was angry with, not me. Despite that, I'd only seen him twice after that fateful morning, always for a short time — picking up some clean laundry, having a quick meal, just to ask me how I was doing... I hated it, and I also hated the fact that I now knew for sure he chose Charlotte over us.

Which guy in his right mind wouldn't, though?

Lights. Car tires. I looked up so swiftly I almost hurt my neck. The curtains were drawn, preventing me from seeing who was pulling up on the driveway. There was only one option anyway. Sam was home already, sulking in his room. It had to be Nathan.

I couldn't help it; automatically, a smile appeared on my face, and something fluttered in my stomach. I was finally going to see him again, and this time, I had to apologize for Sam profusely and convince him to bring Charlotte here with him again.

Oh. Seemed like I didn't need to: the ticking of heels on the tiles in the hall told me she was already here. Didn't know you could be disappointed and excited at the same time.

She walked into the living room, throwing her head back to get her hair out of the way, like a model in a shampoo ad. The thing with Charlotte was, was that I was pretty sure the move came naturally to her. She probably didn't have any idea what the effect of it was. Her eyes focused on me as if I was a target she had to keep track of. She was wearing a dark blue skirt and an immaculate white blouse, with long pale legs, feet in modest low heels. Wish I had small feet like that.

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