Page 150 of Rules

“Yes, I think you grasped the concepts and applied them to the subject correctly.”

The pressure I was feeling wrap around my throat eases a bit.

“Thanks, Anette.” I smile. Getting up, I take the papers from her hand, noting the red marks—grammatical errors and other adjustments I’ll have to go through before handing it in tomorrow.

One thing at a time—that’s the mantra I repeat over and over when things become too much.

Finish math homework.

Go over Spanish conjugations.

Do a revision of the Civil War.

Rewrite the essay.

Figure out where the fuck Brook-fucking-Taylor is hiding.

One thing at a time.

From the corner of my eye, I see her massage her wrist. “How are you holding up?”

After her car accident, Jeanette had some pretty nasty injuries. And although the outside bruises and scratches have healed, her wrist still hurts and she has had some trouble breathing. Oh, she tried to hide it, but it’s not like you can hide heavy wheezing every time you climb a set of stairs.

“I’m fine.” Her hand falls down, settling on top of the dog’s head and scratching lightly behind her ears.

“Anette…” There is a warning note in my voice.

I love my sister, but she’s always trying to take on the weight of the world, and it’s bound to break her at some point. And that’s the last thing I want. I almost lost her,twice, and I’m not doing it again.

She lifts her head, rolling her eyes at me. “I’mfine. Really. I can feel the dull ache, but that’s normal. The damn thing was broken and in a cast for weeks, and I can’t keep taking the pain meds. It’ll get better with physical therapy.”

I really hope she’s right. Jeanette is somewhat of a musical genius. She plays the violin and writes her own music. I know she doesn’t want to go to Julliard or any similar prestigious school. She never wanted to be in the spotlight, but I don’t want this accident to rob her of something she loves and holds dear. She’s been through enough already.

“Want me to go with you?”

I wasn’t sure where I’d fit it between all the studying I had to do and practices, but for her, I’ll do anything.

“Nah, Andrew’s going with me.” Her phone chimes. “Speak of the devil.”

A smile spreads over her face as she checks her phone. It’s big and bright, so bright it hurts to look at her. I want to be happy for her—I am happy for her—but at the same time, I can’t escape the pang of jealousy I feel every time I see her smile like that.

“He coming over?” I ask nonchalantly as I get to my feet, giving her space.

“Mhmm… If you want, we can all watch movies together or something.”

“No thanks.” I force a smile, but it’s weak at best. “I don’t feel like being a third wheel.”

“You’re not going to be a third wheel.” Jeanette grabs Lady—that’s what she named the little black monster—and comes to me. “I can even invite Derek and…”

“No.” I stop her, disentangling from her touch. “You don’t have to baby me. I’m fine. Besides, I have shit to do.”

“But…”

Whatever she wanted to say dies when the door to my bedroom bursts open.

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you!”

Mom stops at the doorway, looking at the two of us. She’s dressed casually, well, as casually as Jane Sanders knows how to dress.

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