Birds chirp in the trees up above; wet grass from the morning rain adds to the cloudy, rainy vibe. The plane lands on the wet asphalt of the runway as I squint to barely make out the house in the distance, sitting between 2 hills right on the edge of the forest. I’ve come here every summer of my life since I can remember. I love it here; I can escape from the busy streets of Los Angeles and the row of mansions along Beverly Hills. I love Beverly Hills but sometimes Candice down on Burton Way can be so annoying; Robert who lives near Beverly Hills City Hall, always tries to talk to me, and Stacy on Walden Drive has been flirting with me since 7th grade. I very much needed Vermont’s peace and quiet. 

Edward looks around the plane, curiously. He always does that, look around. I don’t think he even owns a plane but he insists that he does. This year is his first time being allowed to go with me to Vermont, even though I’ve known him since 1st grade. 

“We’ve landed in Vermont,” the pilot announces. “Please stay in your seats until the plane comes to a complete stop.”

Ben looks over at me and smiles. His dark blonde hair looked more wavy than mine today and his hazel eyes shined bright in the morning glow. Frowning at him, I roll my eyes and turn to face the window. I’m still mad at him for what he did back in Beverly Hills. 

The plane stops and the stairs attached to the plane open. As I walk down the steps, I breathe in the fresh air and I sigh. I would love to go to The Bahamas again for vacation or any tropical island but Vermont feels like my second home. Ben steps out behind me and behind him comes Edward. My father is already getting into the limo accompanied by my mother who, up until getting in the car, was doing her makeup and gazing at herself in the pocket mirror she carries.

The chauffeur waits until we all climb in to close the door and starts driving slowly along the unpaved road. A long silence ensued during the 10-minute drive, except for Edward who kept trying to make conversation with me. He gasps and I look over to see that he discovered the tray of candy on the side of his seat. 

“You can have them if you want,” I say, and he starts to fill his face with M&M’s. “Relax, it’s not going anywhere.” We look at each other and laugh. 

“Will you please stop talking?” My mother says, impatiently. She turns around and her face looks orange in the light but it’s probably the amount of makeup she put on; she reminded me of the Lorax. “I have a headache from your bickering.”

“Literally no one is bickering,” I whisper to Edward. 

The house comes into view again, looming over the creek running down from the hill on the left and the start of the forest behind the house foregrounds the mountains in the distance. At the top of the right hill, I see the small town, the church being the biggest structure there. The row of tiny houses leads up to the center of the village where small shops have bells ringing whenever someone walks in. I’ve only been there once; my parents don’t allow Ben and I to ever go there because being seen near “poor people” is not the best reputation to have. To be honest, I’m fine with that but I sometimes like the coziness of the village. But I can only stare from a distance. 

At the top of the left hill is the other mansion that we own, but only my parents sleep there; apparently we’re banned from ever going there and to this day I still don’t know why. How come they’re allowed to go into both houses but we can’t? The right hill, significantly less tamed, contained dirty light green grass and chunks of dirt areas. The left, however, had dark green and luscious freshly mowed grass, leading up to our second mansion.       

The limo rolls up to the front garage and comes to a stop. Our chauffeur gets out of the car and opens the door for us. Edward steps out and I follow while adjusting the sleeves of my light gray Prada suit. My Louis Vuitton sunglasses shade the sun from my eyes but I bought them in the wrong size so they keep falling from my face. Ben, also dressed in a suit not nearly as stylish as mine, waits for the chauffeur to open the door for him and steps out. My parents stay in the car, discussing something in hushed voices so I can’t hear them. 

The house feels less cozy than usual this year even though everything looks the same; it’s probably because he’s not around anymore. I used to be full of excitement coming here every summer to see him and I thought coming back might remind me of those peaceful and fun times, but stepping onto the lawn, I felt a sudden wave of sadness. 

We cut the grass, Edward, Ben, and I, and enter through the front door. Edward thanks the man who opened it for us as he follows Ben and I inside, carrying my leather duffel bag for me. The fireplace is already on, the actual kind of fireplace with wood, unlike the electric ones in Beverly Hills. On the ledge above the fireplace sits a marble urn and a plant. We all sit on the white leather couch surrounding the TV in the sitting area and Ben presses the red button on the TV remote to turn it on. 

“Excuse me,” I say, turning to one of our servants standing in the kitchen. “Get me a can of Coke.”

“Yes, of course,” he says, rushing to the fridge. “Diet or regular?”

“Why would I want Diet?”

“I’m just making sure.” He runs to the fridge and runs back to hand me my Coke. He stands eagerly behind me, waiting for me to say something. 

“You can remove yourself now,” I say, shooing him away with my hand and he runs off back to his position in the kitchen. 

“Why do you have to be so rude, Jack?” Ben asks me.

“I’m not being rude; I always talk like that.” 

“That was so unnecessary though, like ever since grandpa died you’v-” I interrupt him before he can finish his sentence. 

“Don’t start with me,” I say. “At least you’re being appreciated for doing nothing while I have to put up with everything and all the responsibilities.”

“I do nothing?” Ben jumps up as his voice rises to a shout. “I do nothing?” He repeats. “I do everything, have all the responsibilities, take care of you, of your dog, of everything! And why? All because I was born four minutes earlier?” 

“I don’t need taking care of, I’m 17. And it’s our dog, actually.” Edward excuses himself to go to the bathroom; what a great friend he is, defending me when I need him to.

“It’s not our dog; you bought him and I had told you that as long as he doesn’t become another thing for me to do, you can keep him. But I ended up doing all the work. So no, if you really think about it, it’s my dog. Speaking of, where is he? If you care so much for him and he’s yours, where is he right now?” I swallow. I don’t know what to say because he’s right.

“I left him in Cali, obviously.”

“Yeah, and who’s taking care of him?”

“I don’t know, the servants?” I roll my eyes. “You’re getting boring; I’m going upstairs.”

“Yeah that’s another thing about you Jack, you don’t know how to finish arguments,” he yells after me. Most days I would care and I would argue back but this time I just keep walking; I’m tired of him already and we just got here. I lay down on my bed in the room I claimed years ago. God, this house still smells like him. Grandpa was the only person in this family who made me feel loved and appreciated, and now he’s gone, and I’m given all the blame for everything. 

I remember him once telling me a story about a young boy named Matteo who moved to New York from Europe to start a new life back in 1965, away from the small, broken-down house he lived in. He had ideas, ready to be shared with the world, but was laughed out of every business office in New York. So, having no money and nowhere to sleep, Matteo got one of the lowest-paying jobs he could get, working as a waiter at a diner on Wall Street. Wall Street was always full of businessmen and white-collared workers, so the diner had loads of these kinds of people, coming in every day during the morning and evening rush. He listened to their conversations, inspired, and yearned to learn how they became so successful. Taking his ideas and his experience working as a waiter, he made something out of it, building one of the biggest, most successful diner chains in the US and Canada. 

“And now look at us,” he used to say. We’re one of the richest families in America!” 

***

“Jack, come down here now!” I jump up from my bed and run downstairs. My mother is standing at the foot of the stairs, hands on her hips. “Did you say something to Ben?”

“What do you mean?” He broke our unspoken rule: no matter how mad we were at each other, we wouldn’t snitch. I had his back and he had mine, but I guess not anymore. “I said that he doesn’t do anything, because he doesn’t. Am I wrong?”

“You’re acting ungrateful, your brother does so much for you and you can’t even say thank you.”

“Oh well, he can go cry about it. Tell him to grow up.” I suck my teeth and try to walk past her but she blocks the stairs so I turn around and walk back upstairs. She follows me, grabbing me by my shirt and pulling me back forcefully. 

“Don’t walk away from me, Jack. You’re going to find Ben and apologize to him, and while you’re at it, apologize to me for putting me through hell raising you.”

“You raised me? Unless you call hiring a nanny ‘raising’ me, I quite literally don’t recall you taking care of me. I almost never see you at home and remembering that you have children is the last thing you think about when you are. Remind me, when was the last time we as a family ate a meal together?” I look over at my father eating near the TV and point to him. “See, that's exactly my point.”

“As if you want to eat with us! You hate me.” She starts to fake cry, doing the bit where she tries to make me feel sorry for her. I push past her and walk into the sitting room. 

Edward, sitting in the corner of the leather couch, gets up and walks across the room to me. He whispers, “I’m going up to the top of the hill. Want to come with me?” I nod and walk away from my mother. She yells after me but I don’t listen and we walk out and turn towards the hills, looming over from each side of the house. 

As we walk up the left hill, we spot Ben, sitting at the top with his legs scrunched up and head between his legs. 

“Oh, the snitch is mad; that’s funny,” I say. Edward laughs. Ben looks up with tears in his eyes, looks over at Edward and sucks his teeth. 

“Can you please leave me alone?” His voice breaks and suddenly I feel a wave of sympathy for him. But my reputation is on the line; if I act too nice then Edward might tell everyone at our school that I’ve gone nice, and I can’t have that. 

“Why are you crying? It’s not that deep.” He looks away and wipes his eyes. 

“I hate having all of the responsibility, I’m expected to be the nice one, have no attitude, and I’m not going to lie, I'm jealous of you, Jack.”    

“Jealous? We literally look the same.”

“No not of your looks; I’m jealous of your freedom to do whatever you want without caring what other people think.” 

“Well, I guess I’m also jealous,” I say, reluctantly, eyeing Edward, just in case he voice records this on his phone. But he doesn’t, he just stands there looking around. “I’m jealous of the love you get from Mom, from Dad, even from my dog. He hates me; how does a dog hate me?” I laugh and sit next to him and we continue to talk through everything, promising to be there for each other whenever we need help. Edward sits down beside us and joins in on our conversation. 

“You know, I’m not even rich. I’m only able to afford school because of a scholarship. I don’t own a plane, or a mansion, a summer home across the country, or another mansion in another country.” He pauses. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this now; please don’t hate me but I thought we wouldn’t be friends if you knew.” He watches me intently, studying my face and waiting for a response from me.

“I know,” I say. 

I don’t know what else to say to that.

***   

We walk back down the hill together, Ben, Edward, and I and as we come closer to the house, at the front door stood my mother, hands on her hips in disappointment.

“Why are you all together?” She asks curiously. 

“You quite literally told me to make up with him?” 

She glances at Ben and they have a conversation with their eyes, in a language I can’t understand. Somehow I still end up doing something wrong. 

“Were you at the hill? You know the rules.”

“No, we just went up halfway.”

“Do you ever listen to what I say? You can’t go up at all, even if you don’t go to the top. Do you understand me?”

“Why, are you hiding something up there?” I say sarcastically. She ignores me and turns to stare at the mansion on the hill. 

“Sorry it’s my fault. I went up there first.” Ben says, apologetically. 

“No, Ben, it's okay. You were only up there because your brother made you sad.” She smiles at him and taps his shoulder.

Somehow it always ends up being my fault. 

***

My bedroom sat in an annoying position, facing the east, so when the sun rose from behind the left hill, the strong light burned my eyes, and I woke up way too early. The smell of eggs and pancakes make my nostrils flare and I jump up to get ready. I’m so hungry that I could eat a horse. 

As I walk down the stairs and into the dining room I see something different. The urn, no longer on the ledge on top of the fireplace, sat in the dining room, on the table. Everyone is sitting at the table, talking, together. That’s weird. 

“Sit,” my mother says, with a hint of sarcasm in her kindness. “We’re going to eat together today, as a family.” 

 “But Edward isn’t family,” Ben says, making me look around in bewilderment. We just made up and he’s already starting stuff again. 

“You should’ve brought your friend then if you care so much,” I snap back. “Oh but I forgot, they all dropped you.” 

“No, I dropped them because they kept asking me for money actually, so…”

“You wish you were me, just admit that.” I tauntingly smile at him. 

“Boys, stop arguing,” my father sighs impatiently. We both ignore him.

“I don’t; you’re a butthole. Am I wrong about Edward though? He follows you and I everywhere, eats our food, sleeps in our house, and nobody says anything.” He turns to Edward. “You know, all you’ve been doing is taking and taking. I don’t recall ever going to your house; why are you always at ours? Do you even own a house, Edward, because I never see you in it!” 

Edward turns bright red and looks down to the floor, mumbling something incomprehensible. 

“That’s not your friend though so this has nothing to do with you. Mind your neck.” I roll my eyes at him and look at Edward whose cheeks are flaming red. 

“I don’t even like you. Like I know that you’re Jack’s friend but you bother me so much. Why are you even here? This is a family vacation in a house owned by a family.”

“You’re just mad because Chrissy likes me,” Edward mumbles, but I’m the only one who can hear him. Ben has liked Chrissy since 4th grade, but Chrissy is obsessed with Edward, one of the reasons Ben doesn’t like him. 

“Speak up when I talk to you Edward. I’m talking to you; look up at me.” Ben continues to ramble, ignoring what I said, and displacing his anger onto Edward. As he keeps chatting, my fists clench and I try to stop myself with every fiber of my body, but he’s already pushed me off the edge, so I lift my left fist and punch him straight across his face. 

Blood dripped from his cracked nose, and cries and shouts began to fill the room. My mother began to yell at me, of course, and my father ran for some tissues. Edward remained seated in his chair, mumbling, only looking up periodically to see if I’m still there beside him. 

Ben stops shouting in agony and punches me in the stomach as my mother watches, with a look of pure glee on her face. I punch him in the jaw, and now she decides to step in, the smile dropping and replaced with a frown. I push her away and throw him onto the table. The pancakes that were sitting at the edge of the table fall to the floor with a crash. 

“Watch your mouth when talking about my friend,” I say, punching him repeatedly across the face. 

The table suddenly collapses from the weight and the urn, previously a centerpiece, shatters. The ashes spill all over the floor and my mother falls to the ground sobbing. I stand there shocked with a huge feeling of guilt and regret. I suddenly forget why I was mad in the first place.  

“Now look at what you’ve done.” This is the angriest I’ve seen her, and judging by the cuts in my palms from my nails digging into them, I’ve never been angrier too. How does she always paint Ben as the angel and me as the villain? Somehow she finds a way to twist what happened into making it my fault; I’m technically not even at fault, he is. 

“That’s not even your father, that’s Dad’s,” I say, looking around anxiously for my father’s disappointed face, but he was still in the bathroom searching for tissues. What do I say to him when he gets back?     

“He’s going to hate you.” She giggled like a little child and another thought popped up in her head. “Ok, I’ve made my decision, a decision I should’ve made years ago. You’re going to boarding school.” 

“I’m what?” I back up, startled. She looks up from her position on the ground and I see a smile form on her face. Edward had gotten up from his seat and the sound of the front door slamming shut indicated that he had left. My father returns, tissues in his hand.

“Here, I have some-” he pauses and looks at the mess. He looks at Ben lying on the broken table, at me standing above him with clenched fists, at my mother who had stopped smiling and continued her fake sobbing, and then finally at the ashes scattered on the floor, his father’s ashes. 

“Dad!” He yells, falling onto his knees and trying to pick up as much ash as he can. “No, no, no, I wanted to spread his ashes together later this week. I wanted to bring them somewhere special to all of us.” He pauses. “Who did this?”

Ben and my mother point to me and at this point, there’s no point in blaming someone else, so I point to myself too. 

“I’m so sorry, it was an accident.”

“It’s ok, Jack. We can pick up as much as we can, don’t worry.” He smiles at me from the floor and I bend down to help him. 

“What, no! George, you have to be stern with him.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

“It was purposeful so he needs to learn his lesson.” She crosses her arms. 

“You know what? I feel like you’re trying to emasculate me in front of my children.” He looks up at her angrily.  

“Oh I’m sorry that you’re insecure about your masculinity.” My mother’s voice rises to a shriek. “But I’m sending him to boarding school.”

“What?! Emma, I really think we should talk about this. Don’t you think that’s a bit excessive?” He gets up to place ash onto the table then turns back to pick up more. 

“No we won’t talk about it and it’s not excessive. He will go to boarding school at the beginning of the school year, end of story. And as of tomorrow, I’m sending him to our home in the UK. I don’t want to see him for the rest of the summer either.”

“You didn’t even like my father, let's be honest.” He gets as much ash as he can into his hand, puts it on the kitchen counter, and helps Ben up from the floor. 

“What?! That’s untrue!” My mother begins to stutter and I laugh before I can stop myself. She gives me a glaring look and says, “You’re laughing now but just wait when no one is going to give you money in boarding school.”

I gulp and turn to Ben, looking him in the eye; I don’t even recognize him anymore. I open my mouth to say something but I seriously have nothing to say to him. I turn and walk out of the house, slamming the door, running into the night, and to Edward.    

***

7 months later (January 17, 2020)

I didn’t even have time to say goodbye to him until he left, forever. When he got sepsis and was rushed to the hospital, I could’ve been there, but I wasn’t. My biggest regret was staying in my dorm at boarding school and ignoring every call telling me about Ben. 

I’ve come back to his grave so many times in the past few months, just to sit there with him in death, as I never did in life.