The School Bully Wants to Be My Brother

I had a theory: Leo Maxwell, the unofficial king of Northwood Prep, was into me.

He'd stood before me, clutching a pink envelope, his face flushed beet red. I heard, he’d stammered, that you're from a single-parent family. Me too.

So... what would you think if my mom married your dad? Then I could be your brother.

Excuse me? I thought I was the one with the secret admirer. Turns out, it was my dad.

And so, three years after my own mother walked out on us, my father and I married into a fortune.

A year later, fraternal twins were born. And with that, my dad’s new role as the beloved patriarch of the Maxwell dynasty was set in stone.

My brand-new, ridiculously wealthy stepbrother would cling to my dad, sobbing his eyes out. "I'm finally not just some kid without a dad anymore!" he’d wail.

1

I have a theory: Leo Maxwell, the unofficial king of Northwood Prep, is into me.

And I have evidence.

During gym class, his eyes are always finding their way to me. The second I look back, he snaps his head away, but the bright red tips of his ears give him away every time. It’s the kind of blush that screams I’ve been caught staring. He gets so flustered that once, he didn’t even react when a basketball came flying straight at his face. He ended up with a bloody nose and a ticket to the nurse's office for the rest of the day.

Then, during study hall, I turned to check the clock and caught him staring at the back of my head, a goofy, unfocused smile plastered on his face.

Even my best friend, Chloe, who’s the undisputed gossip queen of our grade, leaned over to whisper, "Ava, word is Leo Maxwell has a crush on someone. He bought pink stationery. Like, he’s going to write an actual, physical letter."

My stomach dropped.

Oh, God. He’s going to ask me out. I had the sudden, violent urge to start rolling on the floor and begging him not to. What if I say no? He’s a Maxwell. They practically own this town, and their name is on half the buildings at this school. He could probably get me expelled with a single phone call.

I’m here on a full scholarship. That academic grant is the only thing patching the gaping hole in my family’s finances. The thought of my dad—my kind, handsome, perpetually worried dad—frowning over an expulsion letter and then sighing at our empty bank account… I just couldn’t.

This is my fate, then. I have to say yes. I have to pretend to be Leo Maxwell’s girlfriend until graduation.

To avoid becoming a high school dropout, and to prevent my dad from having to sell his soul to some lonely rich widow, I’ll do it. I took a deep breath, steeling myself. I can do this. I started mentally rehearsing my acceptance speech, even pulling out a notebook to script the lines.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the classroom, I packed my bag with excruciating slowness. One textbook. Pause. Another. Finally, it was just me and Leo left in the empty room.

I heard his footsteps approaching, each one a drumbeat against my ribs. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

"Ava Collins."

Leo stood in front of my desk, his face flushed. The usual swagger and I-own-the-world arrogance were gone. In their place was the meekness of a lamb. He wouldn’t even meet my eyes.

I took a silent, deep breath, running through the lines I’d spent all afternoon perfecting.

He carefully pulled a pink envelope from behind his back. On the front was a hand-drawn picture of two stick figures holding hands. Next to them were two even smaller stick figures, a boy and a girl. I was floored. He'd already planned out our future family, right down to the gender of our kids. The depth of his affection was… terrifying.

"Ava," he began.

"Present," I yelped, a conditioned reflex from years of school.

Damn you, Pavlov.

He gave me a weird look before continuing. "Could you do me a favor and give this to Mr. Collins?"

I blinked. "Huh?"

What kind of move was this? A love letter that needed my dad’s approval first?

"I heard you’re from a single-parent family," he said, his voice softer. "Me too."

I nodded slowly. From that perspective, we were in the same boat. A little mutual support group, I could understand that.

"So," he said, his eyes finally lighting up, bright and hopeful like a golden retriever’s, "what do you think about me becoming your brother?"

"…What?"

What was happening? Wasn't this a confession of love? Was this some kind of weird roleplay scenario? Start as brother and sister and then… evolve? I didn't get it, but I respected the hustle. If that's what he was into, I could grit my teeth and go along with it.

Leo pressed his advantage, clearly mistaking my stunned silence for consideration. "It was love at first sight with Mr. Collins. I’ve always wanted a dad just like him."

My brain short-circuited. Before I could reboot, he snatched the envelope back, tore it open, and pulled out a single sheet of paper.

It wasn't a letter. It was a résumé.

The photo was of a woman in a sharp, tailored blazer, her hair pulled back in an elegant twist. She looked poised, powerful, and intimidatingly beautiful.

Leo held up the paper and launched into a full-blown presentation.

"This is my mother, Isabelle Maxwell. 38 years old, CEO of Maxwell Corp, net worth in the nine figures. She’s beautiful, she’s rich, and she has only one son, yours truly. She's the perfect match for our dad. I know she can be a little… intense, but our dad is so gentle. They’ll complement each other perfectly."

He was on a roll now, his words tumbling out in a rush. "I’ve already got it all planned out. Today’s Friday. They can meet this weekend. If it goes well, they can be at the courthouse by Monday."

He spoke with such passionate conviction, you’d think he was already standing at the wedding, watching our parents walk down the aisle.

I finally found my voice. "Whoa, hang on. What do you mean, our dad?" I asked, cutting through his fantasy. "Since when is my dad your dad? And marriage? Does your mother even know you’re setting her up on a blind date?"

Leo paused, then gave a firm, resolute nod. "She knows. And she agreed."

2

By the time I walked out of the school gates, clutching the repurposed love letter, the campus was nearly deserted.

I couldn't stop replaying Leo's parting words, and the way he’d pitched his voice higher in a forced, syrupy tone. A shiver ran down my spine.

"Ava, my dear sister, you have to give this to our dad, okay?" he’d chirped. "Don't you worry, our mom will take amazing care of him. And I’ll be the best big brother ever. From now on, I’ve got your back at this school."

I managed a tight, pained smile that felt more like a grimace.

Ethan Collins, my dear father, was already waiting by the school entrance. He was leaning against a lamppost in a simple button-down shirt, looking like a quiet poem amidst the afternoon chaos. People walking by couldn’t help but glance his way.

He was pushing forty, but he still carried an air of tranquility that seemed to make time slow down around him. When he saw me, his face broke into a warm smile. He walked over, took my heavy backpack, and gently wiped a bead of sweat from my forehead.

"Rough day?" he asked, his voice softer than a spring breeze. "I made that beef brisket you like. It’s waiting for us at home."

I knew my dad was charming. He'd been voted "Most Popular Professor" at his university multiple times. After he and my mom divorced, a string of wealthy women had practically thrown themselves at him. Some of his old admirers even offered to divorce their own husbands for a chance. One of his college students, a girl barely ten years older than me, once earnestly tried to convince him to let her be my new stepmom.

But this? This was a whole new level. The CEO’s son, acting as a matchmaker. My dad’s looks were a legitimate public hazard.

"Beauty is a curse," I muttered to myself as I walked toward his beat-up bicycle. "A total curse."

He just ruffled my hair, a quiet laugh playing on his lips.

That night, before bed, I remembered my mission. I formally presented the letter from the "filial son in desperate search of a father."

"This is from a kid in my class, Leo Maxwell," I explained. "He wants you to marry his mom so he can be your son."

My dad took the envelope, a look of utter confusion on his face. As he read the contents, a disbelieving smile spread across his lips.

"Oh, it's him," he said with a soft chuckle. "I've run into him a few times. He's a very polite young man."

As for the weekend meeting Leo had proposed, neither of us took it seriously. Why would a high-powered CEO be interested in us? A moderately handsome university professor with a mountain of debt and a teenage daughter who came as part of the package deal.

The next morning, I went with my dad to the farmer’s market to buy groceries. We were planning to make braised pork for lunch. He had a freelance translation project lined up for the afternoon, which probably meant another all-nighter for him.

When my parents divorced, he’d walked away with almost nothing, except for me. He still had the mortgage to pay off on the house he gave my mom. He had to borrow from every friend and relative he knew just to pay it off early.

The moment the papers were signed, my mom sold the house. With tears in her eyes, she said her goodbyes and left town. She said she couldn't stand living a life where she could see the end from the beginning. She had to go find her own worth.

So my dad and I moved into a tiny one-bedroom apartment. He started working harder than ever, taking on any side gig he could find. The pay was never great, and it drained him completely. Clients were always late with their payments. But with his debts and a money-guzzling daughter to feed, he had no choice but to keep grinding.

The easy, breezy smile he used to have, the one that reminded me of a clear mountain spring, slowly became clouded with the grit of real-world exhaustion.

That's when the first rich divorcee showed up. She was a client a colleague had referred, and she loved his translation work. She loved him even more. She wanted to "get to know him better."

That ended quickly, and he lost the client.

Thankfully, he eventually found a good agency that gave him steady work, and our lives slowly stabilized. We finally reached a point where we didn't have to meticulously budget every time I needed a new pair of jeans.

But for years, I had the same recurring nightmare: my dad would leave with one of those rich women, and she’d decide I was too much baggage and leave me behind. I’d wake up in a cold sweat, tiptoeing out of my bed and using my phone's flashlight to make sure he was still there.

He never made me feel like baggage, though. He always called me the beautiful product of their love.

But what happens when one half of that love decides they don't want the product anymore? How long can something like that stay whole?

3

I was still trying to process the whiplash. One minute, I was haggling over the price of pork belly at the market, and the next, I was sitting in a lavish, gold-leafed private dining room, watching Leo Maxwell obsequiously pour my dad a glass of water.

He and two guys built like refrigerators had literally bundled us into a black SUV and brought us here.

"Dad, have some water. Please, make yourself at home," Leo chirped, his voice dripping with eagerness. "My mom got held up with something, but she’ll be here any minute."

He carefully took the bag with the pork belly from my dad’s hands and set it aside as if it were a sacred artifact. My dad accepted the water with a polite nod, taking a small sip.

Leo, ever the thoughtful host, hadn't forgotten about his new "little sister." He grunted as he heaved a gigantic gift box onto the table in front of me. "Ava, my sister! The guy at the bookstore said this is the ultimate SAT prep package. I bought you the whole set. Hope you like it!"

I stared at the box, which came up to my shins. "How long is this supposed to take me?" I whispered in horror. I could probably write until my hand fell off and still not finish it all. I think he bought out the entire test prep section.

Leo grinned, flashing a set of pearly white teeth, and waved his hand dismissively. "Do what you can! If you don't finish, who cares? We're loaded. Money is the one thing we’re not short on. As long as our dad agrees to marry our mom, I guarantee you’ll be living the high life."

I shot a desperate, frantic look at my dad.

He just offered a helpless smile. To him, this was all just a kid's over-the-top game, probably born from a deep-seated wish for a father. Teenagers, after all, were known for their dramatic whims.

He and Leo fell into an easy conversation. They talked about school, about mental health, about the time Leo wet the bed as a kid, and the time I got into a fistfight in elementary school.

A nostalgic look crossed my dad’s face. "Ava used to be so tiny," he said, holding his hand up to his waist. "Maybe up to here on you. Some kid called her chubby, so she marched right up and punched him. Then she told him he was only skinny because his parents were too cheap to feed him properly, and that he looked like a beanpole."

Spurred on by Leo’s rapt attention, my dad pulled out his phone and started showing him my baby pictures.

Leo stared at the photo of a chubby little girl on the screen with pure adoration. "She's so cute! How could anyone call her chubby? If I had a little sister like that, I'd protect her from everything. Dad, don't you worry. From now on, I’ll look out for Ava at school. I won't let anyone mess with her." He puffed out his chest and slapped it for emphasis.

My dad smiled. "Well, thank you, Leo. That’s very kind of you. If you have time next week, you should come over to our place. I can cook for you. My specialties are beef brisket and braised pork. What are your favorite foods? I’ll make them for you."

Leo transformed. This was the same guy who was notoriously picky at the school cafeteria, but now he was the model of compliance. "Dad, I’ll eat anything! I'm not picky at all. Whatever you make is fine." His voice grew quiet, and he looked down, as if wiping something from his eye. "It’s been a long time since I had a home-cooked meal. I… I just want to know what that feels like again."

That did it. My dad’s heart melted on the spot. His own parental instincts went into overdrive. He completely overlooked the "dad" thing.

"Leo," he said, gently placing a hand on the boy's head. "Anytime you want a home-cooked meal, you come to my house. I'll cook for you."

Leo seized the opportunity, wrapping his arms around my dad’s waist and burying his head in his stomach. "So this is what it feels like to have a dad," he mumbled, his voice thick with emotion.

My dad looked like he was about to cry, too. Ever since I was born, he’s had a massive soft spot for kids in need. He’s the guy who steps in when he sees another parent being too harsh, the one who brings homemade cookies to the neighbor’s kid. He’s the dream dad of every kid in our apartment building. I once heard a boy plotting with his mother: "Mom, you should divorce Dad. Mr. Collins is so much nicer. You could marry him, and he could be my new dad." He earned a spanking for that, and his cries echoed through the entire building.

Watching the two of them in this touching, bizarre tableau, I felt a wave of secondhand embarrassment so strong I wanted to crawl under the table.

Just as I was seriously considering it, the door to the private room swung open.

A woman with an aura of crisp, executive authority strode in. "Sorry I'm late," she said.

4

She walked directly to my father and extended a hand. "Hello. I’m Isabelle Maxwell. I believe I'm your blind date for today." Her voice was smooth and confident. "We've met before, briefly, so let's skip the formalities."

My dad stared at her, completely stunned. It took him a few seconds to stand and shake her hand. "Hello," he managed. He hesitated, then added, "Blind date? You mean…?"

Isabelle smiled, pulling a sleek credit card from her purse and handing it to Leo. "Leo, darling, take your sister and do some shopping. Buy whatever you like."

She then turned her attention from my bewildered father to me. She knelt down, her sharp business demeanor softening as she gently smoothed my hair. "You must be Ava. It’s so lovely to finally meet you. I have a little welcome gift for you in the car; we can get it on your way out. Right now, I need to have a little chat with your father. Why don’t you go with your big brother Leo and have some fun? Don’t worry about saving my money."

And just like that, I was being half-dragged, half-escorted out of the room by Leo.

"Don't worry, sis," he whispered conspiratorially. "We gotta give our parents some space to, you know, build a connection. Come on, let's hit the mall! I'll buy you designer bags, diamonds, whatever you want! We've got the cash!"

The last thing I saw before the heavy door clicked shut was Isabelle Maxwell’s hand resting gently on my father’s.

And he didn’t pull away. He didn't pull away!

I remember the second wealthy widow who tried her luck. She’d attempted a casual little hand-hold to "connect," and my dad had recoiled like he’d been electrocuted, putting a solid six feet of distance between them.

But now, with Isabelle, his hand was still in hers, and a faint blush was creeping up his neck. The only other person I’d ever seen him look at like that was my own mother.

I think I’m actually getting a new mom.

I wandered through the gleaming mall like a ghost, trailing behind a hyperactive Leo whose favorite new phrases were, "You like this, sis?" and "Silence means yes! Charge it!"

I didn’t even have time to process the thought of my-dad-is-remarrying because I was too busy trying to fend off Leo’s relentless shopping spree.

"No, no, that’s way too expensive!"

"Please, stop, you’ve already bought too much."

He just waved his black card at the sales associate. "It's not expensive if you don't look at the price tag. Money is meant to be spent. The more you spend, the more motivated our mom will be to earn more."

The two bodyguards following us were quickly accumulating a mountain of shopping bags. I didn’t even want to count the number of zeroes on the price tag of the necklace he’d just bought. Leo was in a full-blown retail frenzy.

Dear Dad, back in that private room, I thought desperately, for the love of God, just say yes to Ms. Maxwell. There’s no other way out of this. Selling us both into servitude wouldn’t even begin to cover this bill.

5

Things moved at lightning speed. Even though I’d braced myself, I was still caught off guard.

To put it simply: an old flame, once rekindled, burns hotter than a wildfire. When middle-aged people fall in love, they don’t mess around.

I watched my dad’s defenses crumble day by day. He was smiling more, a permanent, soft curve to his lips. There was a new light in his eyes, a springtime warmth that had been missing for years. And Isabelle looked at him with an undisguised, tender affection that melted her corporate armor. The air between them was so thick with chemistry it was practically visible.

I had a feeling moving boxes were in our near future. Isabelle seemed ready to annex my father into her territory immediately.

But they were both tactful enough to give Leo and me what they thought was an "adjustment period."

Leo, of course, needed no such thing.

The moment it was semi-official, he broke down in a flood of tears, snot and all. "I'm finally going to have a dad," he wailed.

I passed him a tissue, feeling a profound sense of secondhand embarrassment. How did I ever mistake this guy for a school tyrant? He was just a big, overgrown kid with bleached hair and a leaky tear duct.

Why did he want a father so badly? When my mom left, I was sad, but I was okay. If she and my dad had stayed together, they would have just grown to resent each other. They didn't fall out of love; they just weren’t compatible anymore. Separating was the kindest thing they could do for each other. They were always honest with me about it, and I understood.

Before I could even ask, Leo, red-eyed and looking a little pathetic, started explaining on his own. The usual happy-go-lucky mask he wore had slipped, revealing a rare glimpse of melancholy.

"You probably think I'm being super dramatic, don't you, Ava?"

Everyone has their own way of dealing with things. I wasn't going to judge.

He looked at me earnestly. "Maybe it seems like I'm overreacting, but I really, really want your dad to be my dad. I've wanted a dad for a long, long time. And I want my mom to have someone who will truly be her partner for the rest of her life."

He wiped his eyes and gave a self-deprecating laugh.

"You know, my parents were the 'it' couple of their social circle back in the day. You can still hear people talk about what a shame it was they divorced. But if it doesn't fit, it doesn't fit. When I was a kid, my dad used me as a weapon against her. He knew my nanny was awful to me, but he did nothing about it. He wanted to force my mom to quit her job and come home to take care of me herself. He’d coach me, tell me to cry and beg my mom to stop working so much and pay more attention to our family."

"For a while, I did resent her," he admitted. "I thought it was all her fault, that if she wasn't so obsessed with her career, I wouldn't be the kid with a broken home. All I had was a cold, empty house full of stuff I didn't want."

"But as I got older, I realized how lucky I was that she didn't give up her career for me. That man, my biological father, had the exact same job as her, but he always acted like her work was less valuable. Like she was the one who was supposed to make all the sacrifices for the family, just because she was a woman. That’s not fair. Before they got married, he loved that she was brilliant and ambitious. After, he wanted to use me to chain her to the house. My mom is Isabelle Maxwell, the CEO of a major corporation! She's supposed to be out there, shining."

"If he wanted a trophy wife, he shouldn't have married a titan," Leo said, his head held high with pride, like a peacock admiring its own feathers.

I couldn't help but be impressed. "You figured all that out? That's really smart."

He tossed his blond hair. "Of course. I have to be smart if I'm going to be your brother. What really pissed me off was how he remarried and had new kids almost immediately after the divorce. Like, why does he get to have a happy, perfect family while my mom is supposed to be alone? It made it seem like she was the problem. I couldn't choose my first dad, but I'll be damned if I don't get to choose my next one. And our dad is a million times better than that guy."

He was so fired up, so fiercely loyal. I gave him a genuine thumbs-up.

A true filial son of the modern age.

And he had good taste. My dad was a gem—a kind, gentle, honorable man.

For that speech alone, I decided, I would accept him as my brother. Wholeheartedly.

6

So, here we are. My dad and Isabelle are head-over-heels, just one trip to the courthouse away from making it official. They’re adults; they know what they’re doing.

At first, my dad was worried about me, wanting to have a "big talk" to make sure I was okay with everything.

But he was talking to me. Ava Collins. An emotional capybara, steadfast and unbothered. A human water pig.

When he and my mom got divorced, I didn't cry or throw a tantrum. I just accepted it. You can't hold onto sand, so you might as well let it go. If my parents couldn't walk the same path anymore, it was better for them to part ways. Was I supposed to scream and kick and chain them together? I learned at age three that throwing a fit just gets your clothes dirty. It’s not my style. Even if I was sad, even if I was scared.

And I knew this was inevitable now. I couldn't selfishly keep my dad from finding love again. If Leo, with his failing math grades, could figure that out, then so could I. He was already calling my dad "Dad" with zero hesitation. The least I could do was not embarrass my own father.

So, while Dad was away on a business trip this week, I accepted my future stepmom’s invitation to stay at her place. The official reason was to help tutor my future brother. Unofficially, it was a trial run. And frankly, his grades were so atrocious I couldn’t stand by and do nothing. I even suggested to Isabelle that we hire him a team of tutors. Summer break was coming up; it was time for academic boot camp.

Leo, blissfully unaware of the rigorous educational future I was plotting for him, was all smiles as we walked out of school together. "Hey, sis! You wanna get that Thai food you liked last time? I promised our dad I’d fatten you up while he was gone."

I nodded. "Sure. But you have to finish your math homework tonight. You got a 30 on the last test. Out of 150. Leo, even a 60 would be an improvement."

The mere mention of his test scores made him deflate like a punctured balloon. I sighed. Before I could offer a word of encouragement, a voice I hadn’t heard in years sliced through the air, freezing me in place.

"Ava."

It was cool and clear, yet laced with a soft, hopeful warmth.

I turned toward the sound, my heart stuttering. The woman standing there was just as beautiful as I remembered, radiant and luminous, like a sliver of moonlight gracing the earth. Maybe even more beautiful than when she’d left.

The two words I had locked away for three years tumbled out of my mouth in a daze.

"Mom."

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