The Holders - By Julianna Scott Page 0,36

through school with the same group of kids like everyone else did. I was always jumping ahead and taking special courses, always the youngest in the class. By the time I was nine, the kids my own age didn’t even remember who I was, and the ones I took classes with were too old to view me as potential friend material.”

“We’re a pair, aren’t we?” she laughed, giving my shoulders a hug from behind. “But not to worry, because now you have me!”

“Yes,” I agreed, ignoring the ache that came with the knowledge that I would soon be gone.

“There! Done!” She hopped off the bed and grabbed a hand mirror from her dresser. “Have a look!” she said gesturing to the full-length mirror on the wall.

I followed her lead, using the two mirrors to examine her handy work. It was stunning! She had fashioned a series of interlocking braids that were incredibly elaborate, while at the same time loose and flowing. The woven strands transitioned seamlessly into a sea of bouncy curls that fell against the middle of my back. There were curled strands hanging loose at my temples and neck, and even a small jeweled pin in one of the locks. The whole thing looked delicate enough to fall to pieces at any moment, yet at the same time felt secure enough to withstand a tropical storm.

“This is amazing, Chloe! I feel like I should change,” I said, suddenly feeling underdressed in my T-shirt and jeans. “When I get married, I am calling you up.”

“Deal,” she giggled.

“Not that that will be any time soon,” I said, laughing at how her eyes lit up.

“You never know,” she said with a dreamy sigh, resuming her seat on the bed.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure.”

“No boyfriend, then?”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “I started high school when I was twelve and graduated at fifteen, which meant the only boys I knew were anywhere from two to six years older than me.”

“That’s not such a difference.”

“Trust me, it is. Maybe when you are twenty-two and twenty-six it’s no big deal, but a fifteen year old seeing someone who is a nineteen or twenty? The US has laws against that,” I laughed, sitting down next to her. “What about you? Boyfriend?”

“No, not yet.” She fell backwards onto the bed and put her hands over her heart. “But I’ll find him. He’s out there, I know it!” Her tone reminded me of the way a kindergarten teacher would read the “and they lived happily ever after” line to a room full of doe-eyed toddlers. Suddenly, as if remembering something, her eyes widened and she sat up. “Anyway,” she said quickly, turning to face me, “how’s your brother doing? Does he like it here?”

Ignoring both the remaining sting from Ryland’s continued dismissal of me, and the fact that she was deliberately changing the subject, I answered, “He loves it, more than loves it. I don’t know if he’ll ever come home.”

“That’s great!”

“Yeah, it is.” I smiled, but I lacked enthusiasm.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I sighed, rolling a loose thread between my fingers.

“You can tell me,” she said, with what sounded like real concern.

“It really is nothing,” I said, suddenly realizing that I actually wanted to talk to someone about it. “It’s… well, I guess I never expected him to take to it here so fast. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad he did, it’s just that this is the first time he hasn’t… needed me.” I looked down, feeling silly.

“Oh,” she said leaning over and giving me a hug, “of course he needs you!”

I returned her hug out of courtesy, expecting it to feel stiff and awkward like hugging an elderly aunt you barely know. But to my surprise it wasn’t. It was warm and comforting and actually made me feel better. It was shocking to think that I’d only met this girl a little over twenty-four hours ago, and she already felt like someone I’d known for years.

After a long moment she let go, and said with a smile, “It’s his first day, he’s just excited. You have to know he still loves you.”

“I know. It’s not that, it’s more…” I paused, not sure how to put it into words. “For as long as I can remember I’ve had to take care of him. Protect him from everything; from mean kids who would follow him home from school shouting and teasing him, to doctors and teachers who wanted to put him away. I haven’t even gone to college yet, mainly

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