Wiley Brothers Box Set (Books 0-3)

September 1996

"You are one of the Wiley boys?" The girl asked as she eyed him with interest. "There is another one over there."
She hooked her thumb and indicated to the other side of the classroom where Jordan was laughing with his friends.
Outgoing Jordan. Always surrounded by an eager crowd.
Preston looked at that side of the classroom, and their eyes met. Jordan had a half smile on his face, and he nodded his head imperceptibly in acknowledgment of their connection.
Preston hurriedly looked away. It was going to be hard to avoid Jordan since they both attended the same high school and were in the same class.
"Has anybody ever told you that you two could be twins?"
"No!" Preston growled dismissively. He turned his body slightly away from the inquisitive girl so that she couldn't see the blatant lie on his face.
Of course, he had heard it before. The people in the community where they lived said it all the time. It was hard to avoid the comparisons. They both looked like their father, Joseph Wiley.
"Are you the rich one or the poor one?" The girl asked.
"That's none of your business." Preston bristled. "Why are you so nosy?"
"Because I am nosy," the girl smirked. "You are obviously the poor one. You are very touchy, aren't you?"
Preston sat back in his chair and wished that the class would start already but the first official day of school was always chaotic. The teacher kept popping in and out to deal with something or the other.
That was why he was left at the mercy of this unapologetic torturer. He glanced at her notebook. It had her name on it, Summer B. Fallon.
He looked at her again and almost groaned at his mistake. She was watching him. Her eyes were bright with interest.
"How does it feel?" She started chatting again.
"How does what feel?" Preston scowled. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably.
"You know..." Summer leaned her head to one side like she was examining him thoroughly. "If you are the poor one, that means that your mother is the one that is loved. I heard the story from my grandmother. She lives in your neighborhood."
"She needs to mind her own business!" Preston growled. "Seriously!"
"But it's nowhere near as interesting as yours." Summer grinned. "Our business is humdrum. Besides, it's not only my granny that knows your story; everybody who lives in Portland has heard it at some time or the other.
"Your father, Joseph Wiley was practically paid by old Mr. Riddley to marry his ugly daughter, Jennifer Riddley.
"At the time, Joseph Wiley was engaged to marry the local beauty, Hannah Kennedy. How am I doing so far?"
Preston looked at her balefully. He wanted to tell her to stop, but at the same time, he was curious as to what others said about his family.
What Summer had said so far was pretty accurate. Except for the part where she called his mother ugly.
His mother was not ugly. People could be so hurtful at times. He didn't know what on earth people were thinking when they called her ugly. Granted, she did not look like Hannah Kennedy. Few women could claim to look that good. However, his mom was beautiful in her own way.
"I am right, aren't I?" Summer squealed and clapped her hand like she was in the middle of an exciting movie.
"Go on." Preston shrugged. "I want to hear what else you think you know about my family."
Summer eagerly pulled her chair closer to his. "I heard that Old Mr. Riddley paid off Joseph Wiley to marry his ugly spinster daughter and then handed over the supermarket for him to run. Joseph was poor and needed the money, and he did it, but he couldn't leave the love of his life, Hannah Kennedy. He loved her too much. Jennifer was for money and Hannah was for love."
Preston grimaced. That was a reasonably accurate description of the situation. The whole thing made his mother unhappy. She had only agreed to marry his father because she loved him shamelessly and she had not cared that he had loved someone else.
"And the rest is like one of them Bible stories," Summer cackled. "Jennifer and Hannah had children almost at the same time. If one woman got pregnant, the other one did as well. It was like they had a baby competition. They share Joseph Wiley like in one of those African stories. Except, sharing him is not at all peaceful like it is in African tribes."
Preston didn't comment. Sharing was a loose term as it related to his father. His father had six sons: three from his mom and three from Hannah. He and his brothers, Walter and Saint, were not given the time and attention that Jordan, Guy, and Case got. Even though his dad lived with them in the same house, he spent his leisure time with his other family. They simply got the best of him because he loved them more.
"So where do you fall?" Summer asked staring at him with eyebrows raised. "You are like what, son number 1 or 2?"
Preston sighed and slumped in his seat. "I am my father's first child."
"Then that would make you one of the rich Wiley's." Summer opened her eyes wide, "How does it feel to be the son of the ugly unwanted wife?"
"Shut up!" Preston finally snapped. "My mother is not ugly! And as son number one I am not only the rich Wiley, but I am the legitimate Wiley. My parents had me in marriage!"
He said it louder than he intended. Quietness descended on the relatively noisy classroom.
"Sorry, Legitimate Rich Wiley." Summer smirked and moved her desk further away from him. "It must be great being you."
Preston held his head down after the outburst. He had glanced at Jordan after he said that and a kernel of shame was growing in the pit of his stomach. Jordan looked like someone had sucker punched him. His mouth was slightly opened in shock.
Words had power. Preston realized instantly, but what he just said wasn't just his fault.
The 'legitimate Wiley' story was his mother's constant litany from the time he was old enough to understand his family's unique dynamics. And he had somehow absorbed her sermon and was even repeating it in public.
His mother had fanned the flames of resentment to his other brother's, forbidding him to speak to Jordan, even though they were the same age and lived in the same community.
They have no business being in this world. They are not true Wiley's. Those were his mother's words, not his. Her voice was in his head, and it had found wings and taken off from his mouth for all the class to hear.
Preston glanced over at Jordan again and then looked away, contrition rife in his heart. He did not truly mean it. He wasn't even sure what advantages being legitimate afforded him anyway. In his opinion, it did not make his father love them any more or give them any more attention.
To be honest, he had always wanted to have a relationship with the boy who looked so much like him. It had always been a secret desire. Of all the boys, he and Jordan looked most like their father. He often wondered what Jordan thought about him.
If he could take back his outburst, he would.
But he couldn't.
It was said and ingested. He felt Jordan's eyes on him, and he reluctantly and hesitantly met his.
It was no surprise when their eyes met. Hatred was blazing from Jordan's.
He shouldn't have said what he did. He had just made an enemy.

****

"You heard what the punk said?" Shawn whispered in Jordan's ear. "I am my father's first son and the legitimate Wiley in his little upper crust accent. Why do all of the prep school kids speak like that?"
"I have no idea," Jordan muttered. "The more money, the more refined I guess."
"We should lay wait him after school and give him a beat down. Beat the accent out of him." Cody volunteered helpfully. "I can bet he fights like a girl."
"Yeah," Shawn giggled, "we could rearrange his face so that it doesn't look so much like yours. I don't like that he looks so much like you."
"He is three months older," Jordan shrugged, "so technically I look like him, he was born first."
Shawn snorted, "Just three months, that's nothing. There are three of us and only one him. We can take him after school, wipe that stupid smirk off his pretty face."
Jordan chuckled. "You think he's pretty?"
Shawn nodded. "Yes, very. He looks like Ginuwine except prettier."
"Which would mean," Shawn sighed dramatically, "that you are pretty too. I hope you grow out of it, being a pretty boy is not cool."
Jordan groaned. "You kill me."
He didn't know if he should laugh or cry at being called pretty. Any insult or compliment leveled at Preston's face could be assigned to him.
They looked like they were cut from the same cloth. Manufactured in the same factory. Their only difference was that Preston was lighter skinned than he was, because his mother was light, and Jordan was curly haired because his mother was Indian.
Everything else was Joseph Wiley. The high forehead, the hooded eyes, the short straight nose, the pronounced cheekbones and the full lips.
When he was younger, his mother would allow his hair to grow long, and people would mistake him for a girl. He wondered if Preston went through that.
But then again, he didn't know anything much about Preston, except that he lived in the mansion on the hill just ten minutes from where he lived. They had a long winding driveway and a massive black gate to bar out any casual visitors and a sign on the gate, which said: "Trespassers will be prosecuted."
He had never dared to go up there even when he and Shawn were embarking on their adventurous explorations. He just knew that the house on the hill was where his father lived with his other family and he had to stay away.
His dad never spoke about his other life when he came over to visit, mainly because it upset his mother deeply but while they were alone playing ball or running errands his father would tell him little snippets about Preston and Walter and Saint. His three brothers with a different mother.
It was only after glimpsing Preston in his mother's car one morning being chauffeur driven to his private prep school that he had found out that Preston resembled him. It had shaken him up at the time. Until then, he had just heard about Preston, but at that moment he had become genuinely curious.
And he had been curious ever since. His mother had told him not to ask his father about them, but it was hard not to give in.
He wanted to know so many things, like why couldn't they play together. He never saw Preston or Walter or Saint, outside their house. They didn't play in the street like him and his cronies.
He didn't even see them outside the house. For the last year, his curiosity about them had been at fever pitch. He always went to Shawn's house because it had a clear view of their house. From there he could look for movement on their large manicured lawn.
They probably had an indoor play area or a spacious area at the back, he had concluded. Unless their mother had them living in a cage. He heard stories about her, Evil Miss Jennifer who was so cold she ate children for breakfast.
Jordan glanced at Preston who was looking fiercely down at his desk like something super interesting was on it.
It was the first time in his twelve years of life that he was actually seeing his own brother up close.
"Stop looking at him," Shawn whispered. "He is not to be pitied. He is to be beaten."
Jordan shook his head. "Not worth it. We are in high school now. No fights."
Shawn snarled. "I could take him alone."
"And I warned you to stop fighting my battles for me," Jordan said exasperation leaking in his voice. "You promised that you would act more civilized this year."
"When did I make that ridiculous promise?" Shawn grunted. "Was I smoking something?"
"You were." Jordan sighed and looked at Shawn. "You told me you would quit smoking and you would act like a girl."
"I am in khakis," Shawn smirked. "If I act like a girl the whole school will think I am gay. And I did quit smoking. I hadn't really started."
"You said it," Jordan murmured. "You probably were high."
Cody sniggered. "Does the school, I mean the administration, know that you are actually female?"
"No." Shawn shrugged. "I registered as a boy. As far as they are concerned I am a boy. Khakis are nicer than those uniform dresses. Besides, girls pay way more for uniforms than boys which is unfair and should be addressed. They have way more pieces of clothes to buy."
"How did your parents let you do this?" Cody asked in awe.
"My mother thinks it is a nice social experiment and my father says I can choose to wear whatever I want." Shawn shrugged, "whether I wear a dress or pants to school means nothing to him."
Jordan chuckled. Shawn could easily pass for a boy. She looked right at home in her khaki pants and tucked in shirt. She was slim and flat chested, with her hair in a buzz cut. It was even shorter than his.
Shawn had always been one of the boys. He thought of her as his other brother. They were born at the same hospital, the same year, just a few months apart. Their mothers were close friends.
They lived two houses down from his on Spring Street in Drapers. It was only normal that he and Shawn would be inseparable while growing up.
It was only last year that it dawned on him that Shawn really was a girl and therefore not really his brother from another mother, as he liked to think of her. He had never seen her in a dress or act in a manner that he would call girly until they had been in the middle of a fight a couple of weeks ago.
They had been beating down a high schooler for daring to pick mangoes on their turf when it occurred to him while Shawn was on the boy's back hanging onto his neck and squeezing with a well-practiced arm wrestle that she was a girl.
"She would make a pretty girl too." Jordan's mother always said.
But she was better as a boy, Jordan concluded of his best friend. She was his partner in crime and had an insatiable need for adventure. He couldn't count the number of scrapes they had gotten into together over the years.
He didn't need another brother his age.
He glanced at Preston, and definitely not Mr. First and Legitimate Wiley.
Jordan was quite fine. He had Shawn. She was probably a hundred times better than Preston at everything.
Jordan doubted that Preston could even climb a tree or play ball. Maybe he couldn't swim, even though Drapers was so close to the sea. The thought made Jordan smile. Preston may be the rich legitimate one, but he didn't have much of a life, did he?
It probably hurt his rich little sensibilities that he had to attend the local high school with all the regular people.
Titchfield High School was not a posh private school, it was government run, but it had the reputation of being the best in their region. Everybody chose Titchfield for his or her first choice, but only the students with the highest grades got in after the external examinations.
They made no exceptions for anyone. No strings could be pulled. His mother had drummed that in his head every day for all of last year when she wanted him to study.
That meant that Preston had been bright enough to get in.
He looked lonely sitting at his side of the room. Maybe his little friends from his fancy prep school had not made the cut. He would have to make a new set of friends.
He felt a slight pang of sympathy for him, and then it slowly died. He didn't care anyway. Preston meant nothing to him. He was just a boy. They had the same last name and shared the same father. That was all. He doubted that they would even cross paths in the future.