Trystan and Braden are the cousins I’ve never met. Braden is seventeen, like me, and Trystan is sixteen. They’re probably both like their dad. Obnoxious egomaniacs. I’ll be going to their school but I’m sure they’ll ignore me or pretend they don’t know me, which is fine. I can make my own friends. I don’t need them.
The waitress drops off my water, then leaves.
“So when does school start?” I ask.
“Next Tuesday, the day after Labor Day. I’ve ordered you enough uniforms for five days, but I can get more if you’d like.”
“I have to wear a uniform?”
“Of course,” he says, like I should’ve already known this. “All private schools require a uniform.”
“Privateschool?” I sit back, shaking my head. “I’m not going to private school. Private schools are for snobby, rich kids.”
He leans toward me. “You may not have realized this yet, but you’re one of those kids, or you soon will be. You can choose not to be snobby, but you’ll definitely have money. I’ve already set up an account for you.”
“A bank account?”
“It comes with a debit card which you can use as you please as long as you stay within the monthly budget.”
“What’s the monthly budget?” I ask, taking a sip of my water.
“Three thousand.”
I choke on my water, which makes me cough.
“Here.” He hands me his napkin. “I’ll get a new one.”
“Did you just say three thousand? A month?”
“To start. Once you’ve proven you can be responsible with the debit card, I’ll increase the amount closer to what the boys get.”
“What do they get?”
“Five thousand.”
“A piece?” I set my water down. “How the hell do they spend that much money?”
“Clothes. Going out with friends. Weekend trips. It adds up.”
“There’s no way I could spend that much. My mom used to give me fifty a week to clean the apartment and some weeks I didn’t even spend it.”
“I’m sure if you try, you could spend it,” he says with a smile. “As for school, Maria will get your supplies when she picks up supplies for the boys.”
“Who’s Maria?”
“The maid. She runs errands for us. She also prepares meals when the chef isn’t around. Anyway, until we get you a car, Maria will get you whatever you need.”
“I’m getting a car?”
“Of course,” he says as though it’s a given. “You can’t get around without a car.”
“I don’t have a driver’s license.”
“You don’t?”
“I’ve never needed one. People don’t drive in New York. We walk or take the subway.”
“Your mother had a license.”
