Page 62 of Hot and Bothered
But now that his sister was here, maybe I could use the opportunity to learn a bit more about him? If I asked her questions, surely she would answer them? Unless being secretive and reticent ran in the family.
If I learned more about Evan, maybe I’d stumble upon some way to make him forgive me. Maybe there was something I could say that would make mending our rift easier.
I tried to think of something to ask first, some sort of innocuous topic that wouldn’t raise suspicions. I didn’t want them to think I was probing for information, even though that was exactly what I was doing.
I wracked my brains, trying to come up with a question. Eventually, I gave up and decided to start with Christie. It was only polite that I ask her about herself to make conversation, wasn’t it? I just had to make sure I didn’t say anything that would clue them in to the fact that I’d overheard them talking.
“So, Christie,” I began. “You’re in high school?” It was a safe enough question.
“I’m in my last year,” she said. “I’ll be off to college next semester.”
“Do you have a major in mind?” I asked.
“Probably chemistry or physics,” she said. “I really like science.”
“Physics is a pretty tough subject,” I said.
“It is, but I’m good at it,” she said.
“You’re not an artsy person like your brother?” I asked.
She shook her head laughing.
“Not at all,” she said. “Evan got all the artistic talent in the family. I can’t even draw stick figures.”
“Neither can I,” I said. “That’s why I’m really impressed by Evan’s art.”
I cast a sidelong glance at him. His wandering thoughts seemed to be back on our conversation, but his eyes were averted, as if he didn’t want us to know he was paying attention.
“He’s been drawing since he was a little kid,” Christie said.
I did a little inward cheer. I’d managed to turn the conversation to Evan the way I’d planned.
“He used to draw these little comics,” she said. “The characters were animals that could talk. Sometimes he’d insert the two of us as animal characters and we’d go on adventures.”
“That sounds really cute,” I said. “What animals did he draw you as?”
“I was a squirrel,” she said. “He was a hedgehog.”
“I’d give anything to see those comics,” I said.
“I might still have a few lying around at home. Our mom never really held onto sentimental stuff like that.” At the mention of their mom, Evan went stiff. “I managed to rescue a few, though,” Christie continued, not seeming to notice Evan’s reaction.
“Do you think you could bring some the next time you come over?” I asked.
“I’ll try,” she said. “Or you could always draw some new ones,” she cajoled her brother. “It’s been a while since you’ve made any of those cute comics.”
“I’ve got enough work with my freelance illustrations and my job at the bar,” he said. “I don’t have enough time to mess around with stuff like that anymore.”
Christie looked disappointed. I had to wonder how much those little comics meant to her. She turned back to me.
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” she asked.
Now it was my turned to stiffen.
“I have a sister,” I said.
I didn’t want to talk about myself, and least of all about my sister. I thought about how to redirect Christie’s question, but luckily she did it for me.
