My Life With the Walter Boys

I’d just finished telling them about the tour of the ranch Cole gave me yesterday, something I promised to divulge only after we finished our art project. Kim was surprisingly helpful; she knew exactly how to rein in her friends and refocus their attention when they got distracted. Even so, my gossip seemed to work as perfect motivation for Heather and Riley.

 

“Oh, good God,” said Riley. Untangling herself from the rest of us, she grabbed a pillow from the head of my bed, tossed it on the floor, and situated herself on top of it. “Why can’t one of the Walter boys take me on a date?”

 

“It wasn’t a date. It was a tour,” I said, correcting her. “Which, I might add, Cole only gave me because Lee was being a jerk.”

 

“You went horseback riding and watched the sunset together,” Heather said, sliding down next to Riley. There was a half-finished bowl of popcorn abandoned few feet away, and she scooped up a handful. “That’s a straight-out-of-a-book example of a romantic date.”

 

“What do you think, Kim?” Riley asked, holding her hands out to inspect her nails. The bright blue polish was chipped on every finger.

 

“About what?” Kim asked without looking up from the pages of the comic book spread out in front of her. During our boy gossip, she stayed quiet and stuck to reading. Riley tried to pull her into the conversation with occasional questions, but Kim had a knack for dismissing them immediately. She would offer a few quick words and wave her hand for effect before returning to her comics. It was a talent I had yet to master, because whenever I tried to wiggle my way out of a question, I dug myself into a deeper hole.

 

“You think the tour counted as a date?”

 

“Jackie was the one who was there,” Kim said. “She would know best.”

 

“That is such a lame answer,” Riley said. “Jackie, do you have any nail polish?”

 

“Sure.” I jumped up from my bed, glad for the change of subject. “Do you need remover too?”

 

“And some cotton balls.”

 

I opened my closet, looking for the heavy box that I knew was inside.

 

“Whoa,” Heather said, as I pulled back the door. “What’s with the rainbow?”

 

She was referring to the fact that all my clothes were hung color coordinated, from shades of red on one end to the purples on the other.

 

My cheeks got warm. “Just a habit,” I said, locating the nail polish.

 

After sliding the box out with some difficulty, I dumped it next to Riley, making the bottles inside rattle together. Everyone was silent as they looked down at the huge, cardboard moving box that was filled to the top with every color imaginable.

 

Eyes big, Riley looked up at me. “Is that all?” she asked sarcastically, air puffing out of her mouth in disbelief.

 

“For real,” Heather added, sliding next to Riley so she could get a better look. She dug her hand into the box and plucked out a bright red. “Planning on dropping out of school and starting your own salon?”

 

I shook my head. They weren’t mine. Lucy had been obsessed with painting her nails the way Heather was obsessed with the Walter boys. She put on new color every day to match whatever outfit she was wearing. Her collection of polish was always scattered about the house, stuffed in drawers and cabinets or whatever space she could find. It got to the point that my mom had to set up a vanity in Lucy’s room specifically so she would have a space to do her nails. Regardless, bottles would pop up every now and then, tucked between the couch cushions or under a bookshelf where they had rolled and been forgotten.

 

She was always trying to paint my nails too, but I didn’t like the way the polish chipped after a few hours, making my fingers look unkempt. “Jackie,” she would tell me, “doing your nails is like making a personal statement. Each color can say something different about you and your mood.”

 

I always thought it was silly—blue was blue, and pink was pink. Not tranquil or melancholy or cheerful. Even so, when Katherine helped me pack my belongings, I couldn’t leave the nail polish behind. I swiped all of the bottles off the top of her vanity into a box so I could take some of Lucy with me to Colorado.

 

“I don’t really use them,” I said, showing off my plain fingers. “They were my sister’s.” The statement slipped off my tongue casually, but everyone went silent. When I realized what I had said, the meaning behind my words, my shoulders went stiff.

 

“Well,” Riley said slowly as she selected a dark purple, “this is quite the impressive collection.”

 

“Definitely,” Heather agreed, shaking the bottle against her palm. “Want me to do your nails, Jackie?”

 

She unscrewed the cap, and I realized what I liked so much about these girls. They knew about my family, that much was evident from the first time I met Heather, and they loved to gossip, yet they never once broached the subject. It had come up through offhand comments that I didn’t realize I was making, but these girls maneuvered around them gracefully, as if I hadn’t said anything.

 

“Why not?” I told Heather, dropping down next to her and tucking my legs underneath me.