Page 69 of Merrily Ever After
“I can do both,” she says. “I’m very observant.”
“You’re annoying.”
“I’m your younger sister. It’s my job to be annoying.” She twirls so she’s facing me and starts walking backward. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.”
At that, I snort. I don’t trust her to help me at all.
“I mean it! I know everyone. And I’m just going to find out anyway,” she adds, not blinking as we have a stare-off in the middle of the road.
Sometimes, I wish she wasn’t so curious all the time. But I know she could do more damage trying to figure it out than anything else.
“Colleen Byrne.”
Rachel doesn’t even hesitate. “She’s in my Irish dancing class.”
I know, I want to tell her.
“She’s very pretty,” Rachel continues, thoughtful now.
That I don’t need to be reminded of. Anyway, she’s more than pretty. She’s beautiful.
But I say nothing, giving her nothing. Not that it matters. Rachel doesn’t need words. She’s spent too much time with me not to know what I’m thinking.
“You should just talk to her,” she says. “She might like you.”
I still don’t answer. I know her words are meant to comfort, but they prick at something uncomfortable inside. Something I’d been trying not to think about. Because she’s right. Colleen might like me. But she also mightnot.
And once again, my sister guesses my thoughts perfectly.
Rachel rolls her eyes, swinging around an electricity pole with one hand. “It’s not that strange to consider. Lots of girls like you.”
“You mean Patricia.”
“Not just Patricia. Deirdre. Carmel. It’s very annoying.” She raises her brow at my look. “They think you’re mysterious. They all want to dance with you. They won’t stop asking me.”
“I’m not mysterious,” I say, bewildered.
“Iknow that. I told them you were just boring, but no one believed me.”
“Then why—”
“Because you’re kind!” she exclaims. “And when you say things, you mean them. They know you won’t talk about them behind their backs.” Her voice trails off to a grumble at the last bit, and she kicks a small stone out of the way.
I come to a stop. “Did Phil Murphy say something to you?”
“No,” she says sullenly. “Nottome.”
“What did he do?” I demand, and she sighs, loud and dramatic. But the reason she knows me is also the reason I know her, and the act she’s putting on is exactly that. She’s hurting.And I bet everything I own that the butcher’s son is the reason. “Rachel,” I warn.
“I overheard him talking to some of his friends last week. About how I wouldn’t go all the way like other girls and how that made me—Sean!” She grabs onto my arm with a laugh, jumping in front of me. “I dealt with it.”
I stare down at her, confused, seeing as how she couldn’t have dealt with it because, as far as I’m aware, Phil Murphy wasn’t walking around with a black eye the last time I saw him.
Rachel shrugs. “I told him I wouldn’t be with him if he was the last man on earth. And then I told his mother where he keeps his cigarettes.” She smiles a little. “I don’t need you to protect me. But I like that you want to.”
“If you stayed in the house, I wouldn’t need to,” I remind her, but she just pats my arm like I’m being silly.
“She’s a great dancer.”
