My Sister's Secret

My Sister’s Secret

By Roxanne D. Hicks

My older sister Leslie was a very cool person. She was gorgeous, popular, smart, and voted ‘most likely to succeed’. When she left for college, I was sophomore in high school. Fortunately, she chose a college in our home town so she didn’t leave home completely.

Not only did I idolize my older sister, I adored her wardrobe. Her taste was impeccable. I guess I felt that if I dressed like her, some of “Leslie” might rub off on me. It was not in her character to lock her bedroom door, or her closet, or her dresser. And it was not in my character to help myself to her things without her permission. That is, until she left for college.

Homecoming week required that I make every effort to be as cool as possible. It also became necessary to borrow Leslie’s fish net stockings. With great anticipation, I opened the first drawer and launched my search. Gorgeous matching sets of underwear demanded my attention as I poked through her fashion world. I held one bra up over my shirt and found myself lacking immensely. Oh, what it must be like to be my sister!

Drawer number two held pajamas and socks. It was just as interesting as her underwear drawer. Once I had pawed through her nightgowns and pajamas, I moved to her socks. My fingers touched a book nestled at the bottom under a pile of athletic socks. Curiosity got the better of me and I pulled it out. A black, leather-covered book slid from the depths of the pile. A very official, highly significant and absolutely impressive black book pulsated in my hands. I had to open it. Leslie had written her name on the very first page. I almost dropped it, however, as I flipped to the second page.

“Luanne, if by some chance you are reading this, you’d better PUT IT BACK, because I will know!”

After reining in my wits, I daringly flipped to page number three. The entire page was nothing but addresses and phone numbers. Names of boys that I’d never heard of paraded down list after list and then page after page. Ho-hum. Boring. Very, very boring.

I flipped over a dozen pages just to see if the names continued. They did. But, then the list ended. That page was titled, “Things I regret.”

An alarm went off in my head. Jackpot! This development was exceptionally promising.

“Getting a ‘B’ on my eleventh grade biology final.” Oh brother, leave it to my sister. I’d die to get a B on my biology final. But Leslie was the perfect sister.

“Letting Ava Bremmer take first chair in the flute section in band my sophomore year.” Again, my annoyance swelled. I had to struggle just to play my clarinet.

“Not being elected Queen at the prom.” I remembered that year. Everyone was convinced that she’d win. She didn’t. But she had accepted the title of princess graciously. And she looked far more glamorous than the girl who did win Queen.

“Saying goodbye to Harold.” Okay, now we were getting somewhere. Harold had been a boyfriend through high school. His parents had big college dreams for him and urged him to break it off. They sent him half way across the nation and she’d stayed home. Again, she’d responded graciously, but I was pretty sure it had hurt her.

“The gig with Cole Street Diamond.” Hmmm. That was a rock band she’d dabbled with through high school. I never understood her attraction. They were totally lame.

“Mango Mama.” That entry pricked my interest, too. She’d worked at the smoothie bar for several years and had made many friends. What was there to regret?

The rest of the book was just as boring. Why hide it, or warn me about reading its pages?

I closed the book and tucked it back into her pile. As I withdrew my hand, I noticed a manila envelope. It too had been buried. Why not check it out?

I lifted it and opened the flap. What in the world? It was thick with a wad of bills. A lot of bills, as matter of fact.

“Holy cow, an incredibly lot of bills!” I said out loud.

My math skills were only mediocre, but this was worth close scrutiny. I made piles of five hundred. Long before I reached $20,000, my thoughts were racing. Why would my sister Leslie have this much money hidden in her dresser? She had both a savings and a checking account. Could she be in trouble?

I looked over my shoulder just to be sure. A person never knew who could be watching or how much trouble another person might have gotten into. I quickly stuffed the money back into the envelope and buried it. What if the entire family was in danger? Forget the fish net stockings. I had bigger fish to fry.

My thoughts were no longer consumed with spirit week or other festivities. I now shouldered a burden that might have serious consequences. Instead of English, History, Science and Math, I focused on my sister’s list of regrets. My family needed me to figure this out.

Even if Leslie thought so, getting a B on her biology final was hardly a scandal. Losing first chair with her flute wasn’t so catastrophic, either. In a few years, would anyone remember except Leslie? Not getting elected prom queen might have lifelong repercussions, but blackmail of some kind? I doubted that. Saying goodbye to Harold could have some consequences. Actually, catastrophic consequences. I was pretty sure that they’d made secret plans to marry – or at least, Leslie had. My perfect sister didn’t accommodate adverse opinions. She preferred to annihilate them instead. But even if she did plan revenge of some kind, how did $20,000 play into it? Could it be ‘hit’ money? No, I chastised myself. As ruthless as my sister could be, she wouldn’t take out Harold’s parents. So many thoughts to sort through!

The gig with Cole Street Diamond? They were only okay. Leslie had enjoyed her time with them. Guys came to watch her, but the music was forgettable. There wasn’t a single scandal or torrid event to remember them by. Mango Mama was a smoothie bar in the mall where Leslie worked through high school. Was there anything else that I might have missed? Anything at all that would involve a large sum of money?

How about college? She’d been awarded scholarships. But a person wouldn’t stuff scholarship money in a sock drawer. Even I knew that.

The remaining regrets listed in her book had been innocuous events without meaning to anyone but Leslie. Still, I didn’t want to overlook anything. A thought came to mind. Why not just ask Leslie? Oh, you foolish child! I admonished myself before she could. In first place, she’d know that I was snooping in her things. In second place, I’d being challenging her integrity. Thirdly, I’d be inviting my sister’s wrath. Still, what if I alone could intervene and save my entire family, for once?

Leslie arrived home shortly before dinner. As usual, she was in a hurry to eat and get to a meeting to save the polar bears. Typical Leslie fashion. I caught her as she emerged from the bathroom.

“Leslie,” I asked after a deep breath, “I needed to borrow a pair of socks today. I hope you didn’t mind.”

“Of course not, Bubbles.” She insisted on referring to me by a nickname she’d given me during swim lessons years ago. It was humiliating, but it stuck.

“I was careful not to snoop.”

“Wait.” She came to a stop, her face filled with suspicion. “You were careful not to snoop? What you really mean is that you did snoop. What did you find that you need to get off your chest?”

Was I really that easy to read? I swallowed. “Money? A big envelope of money,” I squeaked.

A sudden smile erupted across her face. Her eyes lit with mirth. “Sure you did. A big wad money, huh?”

“Yes,” I answered, gaining confidence. “A lot of money.”

She looked thoughtful. “Tell you what, Bubbles. What if I let you keep that large wad of money you found?” She smiled with genuine affection.

Did I hear her right? “Keep it?” I asked incredulously.

“Yeah, sure. It’s yours.” She was gliding down the hall and off to save the polar bears. An amused giggle resonated in her wake as she disappeared.

Keep the money? Wow! It only took me three seconds to get my friend Alexia on the phone.

“Want to go car shopping with me after school tomorrow?”

“You know I do!”

The second after school was excused the following afternoon, my friend and I marched straight to the car dealership, which happened to be owned by Harold’s parents. I didn’t hold it against them at that moment. With great pride, I pointed to a small economy car, exactly like Leslie’s, but tan in color. “I’ll take that one,” I announced to the saleslady.

“Do your parents know?” She gave me a dubious look.

I worked up a confident repose. “Of course. And I have cash.”

“Well, we have paperwork. And your parents need to sign.”

I handed her the entire wad of money. She took it and wrote me a receipt. Almost simultaneously, my cell phone began to ring. I glanced at it and saw my sister’s smiling face. I clicked it on.

“Luanne,” she stammered breathlessly, “where is that envelope of money?”

“Why?” I asked, still confident and committed.

“It’s gone from my dresser. You brought up the subject yesterday.”

“You gave it to me, remember?” My confidence started to ebb. “Before you left?”

“Not that money,” she hissed. “That money was Harold’s. Where is it? Where are you?”

Oh dear. Not now. Not at this point.

“I’m at the car dealership,” I squeaked. “With Alexia. I just bought a car.”

“You did what?” she screeched.

“You gave it to me.”

I could hear her breathing deeply for several seconds. “Okay, okay.” She told me. “You can’t keep the money. I’m coming to get you.”

Leslie came roaring up the road. She told the saleswoman to put things on hold, gathered Alexia and I and ushered us out to her car. “I’m taking you home,” she told my friend with a smile. But when we’d dropped Alexia off safely, she turned into a shark that has just smelled blood.

“Luanne, what were you thinking?”

“Well,” I began, “You gave it to me.”

“Not that money!” She spent several seconds de-escalating. “Luanne, the money belonged to Harold.”

How interesting. “Harold?” I asked.

“Yes, Harold. Or, Harold’s dad. Actually the car dealership.”

“The money belonged to Harold’s dad’s car dealership?”

“That’s what I just said.”

“Sort of like embezzlement?” I asked innocently.

She gave me the shark eye again. “That’s a really big word for someone your age.”

“If Harold took money he wasn’t entitled to, why give it to you? Doesn’t that make you an accomplice?”

She turned both shark eyes on me as well as a flash of teeth. But then, realization crept over her. “I love him.”

“Enough to go to jail for him?”

She sat without speaking a minute. “No, I won’t go to jail for him. He didn’t stick up for me with his parents.”

We sat together silently contemplating the situation. She finally spoke. “Tell you what, Bubbles.” She was back to herself. “The money is back where it belongs. We will cancel the car deal for now and tell the saleswoman to hang onto the cash. We won’t tell anyone about this, and when you’re ready for a car, I will help you with a down payment. Is that a deal?”

I smiled. I loved this side of my big sister. “It’s a deal. It’ll be our secret!”

And one more regret to write in her little black book.