Four Of A Kind

Chapter 114: [3.16] The One Who Bounces

At 3:17, the gates of Hartwell Academy opened and students began pouring out. Iris straightened, pretzel forgotten as she scanned the crowd for wine-red hair and purple eyes. Isaiah’s descriptions had been oddly specific about their appearance, making them sound like anime characters.

Then she saw them.

Four identical girls walked together down the steps, their matching features immediately apparent even from across the street. They moved as a unit, yet each sister carried herself differently. One with a perfect posture and severe ponytail walked slightly ahead, checking something on her phone. Another slouched with her hands in her pockets, scowling at nothing in particular. The third bounced along beside them, talking animatedly with her hands. The fourth trailed behind, nose buried in a book even as she navigated the stairs.

Iris inhaled sharply. The Valentine quadruplets were real, and they were somehow even more striking than Isaiah had described.

“Which one kissed him?” she whispered to herself, studying them carefully.

The sisters paused at the bottom of the steps, having what appeared to be a brief discussion. Then they split up—the ponytailed one and the reading one heading toward a black town car, while the bouncy one and the scowling one remained on the sidewalk.

Iris made her decision quickly. The bouncy one matched Isaiah’s description of Harlow, and she seemed the most approachable. If Iris was going to gather intelligence, that was her best target.

She crossed the street, heart hammering in her chest. Harlow had been joined by three other girls who weren’t her sisters, all of them laughing at something she’d said.

Iris pulled down her sunglasses, removed her cap, and approached the group with more confidence than she felt.

“Excuse me,” she said, addressing Harlow directly. “Are you Harlow Valentine?”

The girl turned, her purple eyes widening slightly as she took in Iris’s appearance. A bright smile immediately spread across her face.

“That’s me! Do I know you?”

“No, but you know my brother. Isaiah Angelo?”

The reaction was immediate and fascinating. Harlow’s face transformed, her eyes lighting up and her cheeks flushing pink.

“You’re Isaiah’s sister? Oh my gosh, he talks about you all the time! You’re Iris, right? The artist? He showed me some of your sketches on his phone and they’re amazing!”

Iris blinked, taken aback by the enthusiasm. “He showed you my drawings?”

“Yes! The manga-style ones are so good! I love your line work!” Harlow turned to her friends. “Guys, this is Isaiah’s sister! The one I was telling you about!”

The other girls assessed Iris with curious expressions. One of them, a tall blonde, raised an eyebrow.

“So you’re the reason he always has to rush home?”

“I guess so,” Iris said, suddenly feeling awkward. She hadn’t expected to be known, to be discussed.

“Your brother is like, so cool,” another girl said. “Is it true he works as a bartender?”

“Um, yeah.”

“And commutes from Philly every day?”

“Yeah, but now he has a car. Your family’s car,” Iris added, looking back at Harlow.

Harlow beamed. “The Lexus! It’s so much better than him taking the train all the time. He looked so tired before.”

There was genuine concern in her voice, which Iris noted mentally. Points for Harlow in the “actually cares about Isaiah” category.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Iris asked. “Alone?”

Harlow nodded eagerly. “Of course! Guys, I’ll catch up with you at Fashion Club, okay?”

Her friends dispersed with curious backward glances, leaving Harlow and Iris standing on the sidewalk. Harlow’s smile never dimmed, her energy almost overwhelming at close range.

“So, what brings you all the way to Manhattan? Does Isaiah know you’re here?”

Iris hesitated. “Not exactly. I wanted to meet you—all of you, his employers—myself.”

“Oooh, a secret mission! That’s so cute!” Harlow clapped her hands together. “Are you checking up on us? Making sure we’re treating him well?”

“Something like that,” Iris admitted. “He works really hard, and I wanted to know what kind of people he’s spending all his time with.”

Harlow’s expression softened. “That’s really sweet. You two must be really close.”

“We are. He’s done everything for me since our mom left.”

“Left?” Harlow’s eyes widened. “Isaiah never mentioned…”

Iris immediately regretted sharing that detail. “It’s not a big deal. It happened a while ago.”

“Still,” Harlow said, her voice gentler now. “That must have been hard for both of you.”

Iris shrugged, uncomfortable with the sympathy. “We manage. Anyway, I just wanted to meet you and see what you’re like.”

“And what’s the verdict?” Harlow asked, spinning in place to give Iris a full view. “Am I what you expected?”

“You’re… exactly how Isaiah described you, actually.”

“Really?” Harlow looked delighted. “What did he say?”

“That you’re really enthusiastic. And that you like anime and cosplay.”

“That’s me!” Harlow bounced slightly on her heels. “What else did he say about me? About all of us?”

Iris studied Harlow carefully. There was genuine curiosity in her expression, but something else too—a hope, maybe, that Isaiah had said something specific about her.

“He said you’re all really different, even though you look the same,” Iris offered. “He said you’re the nice one.”

Harlow’s smile faltered slightly. “Just nice?”

“And creative. He mentioned your cosplay projects and how good you are at sewing.”

The smile returned full force. “He noticed that? I didn’t think he was paying attention when I talked about my projects!”

“He pays attention to everything,” Iris said. “He just doesn’t always show it.”

A comfortable silence fell between them. Harlow seemed to be processing this information, while Iris continued her assessment. She liked Harlow instinctively—it was hard not to—but liking someone didn’t make them right for her brother.

“Can I ask you something?” Iris finally said.

“Of course!”

“Why did your family hire my brother specifically? There must be lots of qualified people who could tutor Cassidy or help with schedules.”

Harlow tilted her head thoughtfully. “I think… it’s because he doesn’t treat us like we’re special or different. Most people either want something from us or they’re scared of us. Isaiah just treats us like normal people.”

“And that’s unusual for you?”

“Very,” Harlow said with surprising seriousness. “People see the Valentine name and the money and forget we’re just teenage girls.”

Iris processed this. It made sense—Isaiah had always had a knack for seeing people clearly, without pretense or judgment.

Before she could ask another question, a sharp voice cut through their conversation.

“Harlow! What are you doing?”