Chapter 4My Late Sister

The comments argued endlessly while I grew up, bite by bite, on the delicious food my brother personally fed me.

On my first day of preschool, I was four years old.

Fred, now a sophomore in college, held me at the school gate and wailed like a fire hydrant had burst.

"Waaaah… my precious Willa, what will you ever do without me?"

"Sob… I know you're picky and greedy and have a bad temper, and you hold grudges and are vain and petty, but I still love you so, so much! Waaaaah…"

I saw the barely suppressed laughter from the people around us and his two best friends. Beside me, the comments were practically distorted with hysterics.

I deadpanned and gave him a solid thump on the arm.

He wasn't wrong, though.

In the past two years, I’d grown teeth and learned to talk, and my palate had become even more demanding. A touch too bland, a pinch too salty—nope. A grain too hard, a second too soft—forget it. No takeout, no frozen meals. I ate only what Fred made himself. The portions were small, but the variety had to be extensive. My cravings were endless; if I saw it, I wanted it. Every dish that landed on my table was something he'd learned, step by step, from Mrs. Gable. If I wasn't satisfied, he had to remake it. If he was too slow, I’d bite him. And if he dared to get angry, I’d give him the silent treatment for three days.

Over time, he learned to just take the pain.

But with Mr. Evans, Mrs. Gable, and his friends Mason and Silas, I was always perfectly polite. He was the only one I tormented.

What can I say? The day I first learned to call him "brother," he dropped to his knees, hugged me with tears streaming down his face, and swore he’d cook for me for the rest of his life.

I patted his arm, which was no longer so frail. All that forced taste-testing and pan-flipping over the years had built some serious muscle.

"Brother, just leave the lunchbox and go. Study hard, and no street racing or skydiving with your friends, you hear me?"

"Okay," Fred sniffled, rubbing his cheek against mine one last time. "But Willa, you haven't told me you love me most today."

In front of everyone? No way.

I leaned forward, my face impassive, and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Alright, you can go now."

Fred, finally satisfied, slung his arms around his friends and left.