Miss Perfect and Her Brothers (Part I&II)

7. Angel

I flattened my perfectly straight hair. And although I used to often complain that I wished I had lush curls, at least what I had on my head was easy to control. My tidy hairstyle matched my fitted uniform. One day, I even took an iron to my room to always make sure my shirts were free of wrinkles. I had mastered tying my tie to perfection, thanks to YouTube tutorials.

Every time I was all ready for school and took a final glance in the mirror before heading down for breakfast, I imagined how my mom would react if she saw me. She'd probably squint her eyes first to see better (she kept postponing her visit to the optometrist), then she'd shake her head, and finally whistle jokingly. She'd call out something embarrassing, something only moms can say to their children when they're impressed. And then she'd open her arms wide and, careful not to mess up my hair or wrinkle my blazer, she'd pull me close with a tender hug.

At that point, I'd quickly leave the bedroom for fear that my fantasies would go too far and my eyes would fill with tears. It had happened a few times already, and fighting to calm my tear-swollen face was too time-consuming to allow myself such moments of weakness.

In the kitchen, I usually ate half of my breakfast alone. That's where Eugenie would usually greet me in passing, rushing to put on the first load of laundry. Almost every time, there was a Star Wars-themed mug in the sink, belonging to Vincent, proving that my oldest brother was the first sibling up. Either him or Will, who often returned from his morning run shortly after the sleepy twins tumbled down the stairs. Sometimes, I also had the displeasure of running into Dylan, who woke up earlier than me at least three times a week, and even earlier than Will, just to work out in the gym.

In my humble opinion, the Monet brothers couldn't have found a more easygoing sister than me. They didn't have to keep an eye on me to do my homework because I did it diligently on my own. I didn't hog the couch or the TV because I simply had no desire to fight them for the console or the remote, already assuming I'd lose. I didn't steal their snacks because I hadn't had much of an appetite for a while and had to force myself to eat even the basic meals. I didn't ask too many questions, expecting that, as usual, I wouldn't get thorough answers. And when I cried, I did it in the privacy of my own bedroom, late at night, so they didn't have to feel guilty, awkward, or embarrassed. So, what more could be said – I was the perfect sister.

However, soon my brothers realized that perfection doesn't exist.

It turned out that on Mondays and Wednesdays, Shane had boxing training after school, and I usually had to choose between waiting for him or going home with Dylan and Tony if they happened to come with a vehicle that I could fit into with them. The motorcycle was obviously out of the question, but lately, it was raining more and more often, and Tony was increasingly reluctant to reach for his helmet.

I arranged with Shane that during his training sessions, I would go to the library. I much preferred to hide among the shelves of books rather than endure the company of my two nastiest brothers in such a small, confined space as a car. Besides, the school library had one very important advantage over the one at the Monet Residence – the chances of running into Vincent there were slim. Here, for one class period, I could enjoy freedom.

Usually, I would sit down to do my homework, write reviews for my bookstagram, or look for interesting books to borrow. Today, I focused on the first activity and sat in my favorite spot, at a bench hidden between rows of tall shelves filled with outdated, forgotten books. These were mostly thick volumes on topics too complex for high school students, so hardly anyone ever ventured here, allowing me some peace.

But today, someone else did venture in, and that's how the string of troubles I got into began.

In the specific aisle where I sat alone, a certain boy appeared. I recognized him from some classes, so I knew he was in my grade. It seemed to me that we might have math together, but I was also sure that we attended French together, because I remembered how he was questioned recently and – to put it mildly – didn't shine.