"You were absolutely brilliant in the Club today, Meg. I told you Ms. Olivia would elect you supervisor," my best friend Ingrid said with a satisfied smile of triumph on her lips, as we lazily trudged home with our bikes at the end of school.

"Much obliged!" I joked, doing a half-bow. "I couldn't have 'overthrown the reigning Art Club queen' if it were not for my trusty advisors Grid and Char, though," grinning, I nudged Charmaine. She winked.

"Pfff! Alyssa had it coming for her for quite a long time now. The way she kept going on about how she was the one who should lead the exhibition because she'd been the President of the Club for three years in a row with all the experience—" began Grid again.

"Yeah, well, to convert an Art Club into a Gossip Club and to supervise it for three whole years is in itself a kind of Art, you know," I said mock-seriously, trying to stop her going into full-rant mode.

"Yeah, sure. Did you see how flabbergasted she was when Ms. Olivia asked her to present her portfolio? I don't think the girl even knows what that means! Alyssa is such a sham, god." Ingrid rolled her eyes.

I shook my head, smiling. Ingrid could be a little unforgiving in her judgements sometimes. If Charmaine, our other best friend, and I weren't by her side, she would have reduced half of our school's students to ashes by now, courtesy her blazing, no-holds-barred personality!

As we reached my street, I spotted a shiny black sedan parked in front of the gates to my house.

"You have any visitors, Meg?" Char asked, following my gaze.

"I doubt that. Must be parked wrong," I frowned. To our surprise, it suddenly sprang into life and zoomed ahead when we were hardly a block behind it.

"Weird," said Ingrid, raising an eyebrow. I wondered for a fleeting second if it had indeed stopped to drop off some visitors, though it was highly unlikely.

"Anyway, here's your house. Better be off quick before your super-possessive brother gets a glimpse of us!" Char winked, and climbing onto their bikes, they were both off down the block before I could finish saying "See you later".

A cold gust of wind sneaked inside the house as I entered and slammed the front door behind me. It was dark, and any doubts I had of visitors in the house quickly dissipated. As I switched on the lights, an involuntary shiver went up my spine.

"I'm home!" I yelled, flinging my bag on the sofa as I made my way into the living room.

I'd been hoping my twenty-two-year-old deaf elder brother would still somehow hear it and without saying, prepare a hot mug of coffee for me. Okay, it was more of a daydream—we hadn't been on the best of terms for a long while now, even if we lived under the same roof, and so he turned deaf only when I had something to say to him.

"Jordan? You there?" I waited for a few seconds, listening intently for any sound of my brother lounging about upstairs. Nope, the house seemed completely empty; usually he was back from college by the time school ended. Then I remembered—his car wasn't there in the driveway.

I sighed. "Meg, you know the rules. The one early has to cook for both. But why today of all days?" I muttered, talking to myself as I headed to the kitchen to make myself a hot cup.

Working part-time at the café, I mostly have an aversion to coffee. Today, though, had been one of those days when the ever-reliable coffee is your sole comfort in some twenty hours of wakefulness. Except school, which is a cause for stress every single day of the year, the weather had also been on the wrong side since morning. Although Spring had officially arrived, occasional bouts of cold winds kept swaying over the city, perhaps saying, "Don't be too happy, we're still around, so better watch out!"

Fine, that may be my imagination, but the words weren't mine! That was what Alyssa, my classmate and the ambitious 'queen bee' of Senior Year, condescended to tell me today after school.

Here's the backstory to what happened. The Art Club that we're both a part of, including Char and Grid, too, had been practically her empire until hardly a month ago. Flanked at all times by her best friends (read: minions) Naomi and Nora, Alyssa had enjoyed striding into the room like a celebrity, surrounded by a swarm of her followers as she picked where to sit and who to gossip about for the next hour. Other students, including me and my two best friends who were genuinely passionate about Art, would sit in the farthest corner and doodle instead. This disarray was due to the simple fact that our school didn't care about the Arts at all—at Grand Canyon High, it's always about academics, and especially about the sciences, so no wonder.

That was how it was till a few weeks ago, when Ms. Olivia, a young, up-and-coming artist from the University of California, Los Angeles, stepped in as the club supervisor.

This year, the school was to hold the Quadrennial Art Exhibition. Finally, much to the relief of the actual art-lovers, the administration woke from its slumber and appointed the talented teacher to overlook the preparations for the mega event, which was apparently 'the talk of the town'. Ms. Olivia's cheerfulness and dedication literally transformed the Art Club in less than a couple of weeks. And if someone was almost as excited as her about the exhibition, it was me: Megan Cole.

You can't blame me, though. I've always been more interested in art than anything else, so it makes sense for me to apply to an art school, and spearheading an actual Art Exhibition (with high chances of success because Ms. Olivia!) could really be the biggest feather in my hat yet—obviously, I can't take any chances because this may be my only shot at impressing admissions committees of prestigious institutes like the Rhode Island School of Design or the California Institute of the Arts. Provided I can afford them, of course, hence my part-time job.

So, when my best friends convinced me to show my carefully-constructed portfolio to Ms. Olivia, she really liked it and we ended up having a long conversation about my ideas for this event. And the final blow to Alyssa came when I was elected the head student in-charge of the Club and the exhibition. Alyssa suffered a humiliating defeat, and all her flattery of the faculty supervisor went in vain. Must be a terrible fall.

I grinned, remembering the look of thunder on her face. Well, Grid wasn't entirely wrong in feeling so happy!

I heard the door open as I sucked in the last drops of coffee from my still-warm mug. I smirked as it banged shut. It was definitely Jordan. It ran in the family to slam doors, and we siblings were no exception.

"Coffee!" Jordan yelled at the top of his voice, not spotting me curled up on the sofa.

"Nice to see you too. I'm going to prepare dinner." I said, standing up to go to the kitchen. Why should he get to boss around all the time? "You can get it yourself if you want."

He looked startled, at first, but managed to turn his surprise into a grunt. "Forget it. I'll order something." He took off his shoes and started up the stairs to his room.

Sure, order away when I work so hard to earn every cent! I fumed inside. "Suit yourself, because I'm fine with home-cooked food." I yelled over the running water as I rinsed some dishes.

"Can't you ever agree with me, Megan?" He shouted back.

"Look who's talking!" I muttered, not even bothering to leave the kitchen to argue with him face to face.

It was normal, really. We both understood that we'd never understand each other. At least it's been like that for the last five years, since our parents passed away in a plane crash.

I was twelve and Jordan was sixteen, then. We were both equally devastated. Only, Jordan took it in the worst way possible—isolating himself from everyone else he loved.

Since dad's parents had been long dead, mom's parents, i.e., my maternal grandparents took up the responsibility to bring us up till we could stand on our own feet. We didn't even have any close cousins, because Mom and Dad were the only children of their parents.

Grandma and Grandpa looked after both of us for over a year after the crash, leaving their home in Belgium, where they had settled after our parents' wedding, to come to Arizona till Jordan graduated from high school and I finished the seventh standard. Then, as he was unwilling to pursue higher studies in Europe, he remained here while the Grands (that's our nickname for our grandparents) took me to Belgium with them and home-schooled me for two years.

Being 'home-schooled' by my grandparents was altogether a different, not-so-ordinary experience—the Grands are agriculturalists, living the dream in their own quaint farmhouse in the Namur Province of Belgium, the capital city of the country's French-speaking region, Wallonia. Grandma taught me everything about, but not limited to, housekeeping, and Grandpa taught me baking (he's really a phenomenal baker) and everything else that he knew, like driving and maintaining all kinds of vehicles from cars to tractors!

When the Grands weren't showing me how the work at the farm was done, they were taking me to trips all across Wallonia. It was no secret that we were all shocked by the plane crash, but they never let themselves or me dwell on the pain. All three of us kept each other distracted as much as we could from the sorrow of losing Mom and Dad.

If I could forget the actual reason why I was there, it almost felt like I was on a long, fun vacation with my awesome grandparents—all it was missing was Jordan.

My brother, meanwhile, didn't have anything or anyone to help him recover and move on from the loss. No doubt he needed someone to be with him, someone to guide him through the hard times, but he insisted he wanted to live the life of a hosteller at college, and no matter what we said or did, none of us could change his mind once he was determined. The Grands and I often called him up for updates, Skyped while sightseeing around the enchanting city, and tried our best to counsel him when we were reeling with the tragedy too, but it didn't make matters any better. If you think he wanted to stay at the hostel to make friends at college, you couldn't be more wrong—never once did he mention a friend either in his calls or on his social media accounts (Yep, I stalked him relentlessly!).

So, when it was time for me to start grade eleven, I returned to Arizona to live in our parents' house, and Jordan at last gave up his dorm room to join me. For the two years I was away, he'd never once set foot in our own home. Truth be told, I can't blame him. The empty downstairs bedrooms, the dull silence that settles over the house like a permanent fog—they're all painful reminders of a happy past. Each morning I wake up praying the nightmare would finally end, but it never does.

I can't even begin to imagine what Jordan must have gone through all on his own, and that too in a new place, among strangers. Of course, I shouldn't have been surprised that he changed. But I guess I wasn't ready to see how much he had changed.

He was no longer the brother who treated his little sister as a partner in crime, no longer the friend with whom I felt most comfortable to exchange secrets and confessions. Earlier, we were always there for each other. Just listening to each other's voices calmed our nerves. But when I came back from Belgium, it seemed the world had turned full circle.

Jordan changed...we grew apart, and even though we shared the same roof, he and I hardly shared anything about our personal lives. It was as though we were merely employees in a business firm. He hardly ever spoke at all, and it wasn't like I didn't try. After returning to Arizona, I tried my best to bring his old self back, I became so cheerful in his presence that my cheeks hurt from smiling—just to see a smile on his face. Even the smallest hint of it would have been a boon, but not a trace of it ever appeared. Instead, his smirks became more common. A person can do only so much to cheer up another who is determined not to be swayed, and a few months later I had to give up and grow accustomed to this new version of my elder brother.

And though he acted as if he was uninterested in my life, I knew he'd transformed to an over-protective brother, because now, he liked to keep a watch on everything I did and everywhere I went, without wanting to let me know.

Unfortunately for him, I wasn't that ignorant or stupid. For example, I could spot his car zooming past just round the bend as I cycled through the school gates every morning. And since we've had about zero social interaction for the last five years, it was a mystery how we had so many mutual friends on Facebook. Not! Unsurprisingly, he was as talented a stalker as I was, though it was still embarrassing how obviously he did it.

"I thought this was your week of keeping a check on the mailbox?" Jordan's voice jerked me back to the present.

Startled, I turned from the sink to see him standing at the door to the kitchen, holding an envelope. "What?"

He held up the envelope. "Mailbox turn? It's Monday, if you're still asleep."

I flushed. After all the drama at school, I'd completely forgotten to retrieve our mail when I came back home.

"Yeah, sorry, I forgot."

His green eyes seemed to soften momentarily before they turned to stone again, and he shoved the letter toward me.

"What's this?" I frowned.

"See for yourself." he kept it on the fridge and turned to leave.

"Wait...it's from the Grands!" I said excitedly, like old times, forgetting everything as soon as I read the address on the envelope—it wasn't every day that we received letters from them!

Suddenly realizing I'd broken the cold spell of silence, I continued, "I mean, alright, what is it? You don't have to build up the suspense."

He looked shocked for a moment, but quickly regained his composure and rolled his eyes as he went out shutting the door after him. With a slam, of course.

Shaking my head, I placed the envelope on the counter and reached for the knife. As I slid the edge under the flap, I realized it was actually very weakly sealed...almost as if it had been opened and then sealed again with a cheap glue, probably in a hurry. Frowning, I pulled out the off-white paper and unfolded it.

Grandma Malia's lovely handwriting and her attempt at a little emoji almost brought tears to my eyes. God, I missed them both so much! And it seemed like she was quite earnest to have us back in Europe this summer, too.

I bet even Jordan won't be able to say no to this.

Or wait... had he read it already? But why seal it again even if he had?

I headed upstairs.