Winning the Right Brother by Abigail Strom

mom. Considering we’re going to be under the same roof for a while, it’s probably a good idea for me to learn more about her. And music, important music—the kind you’d bring with you to a desert island—is like a map of a person’s soul.”
    Will was still studying him, and Alex felt a little uncomfortable. But after a minute he started talking again.
    “She likes a lot of eighties stuff.” Will shook his head. “She has this secret passion for Joan Jett, which she thinks I don’t know about. She has…well, she used to have…a couple of albums by Foreigner, and one by Air Supply.” He shuddered in mock horror at that, but Alex had been distracted by something else. The change in verb tense.
    “Wow, kid,” he said slowly. “It’s just starting to hit me. You really lost everything last night. All your books, all your music.”
    Will made a wry face. “Yeah. The books don’t bother me much but the music’s pretty hard to take. Although from what I see here, I’ll be able to recreate a lot of my collection by copying yours. A lot of my mom’s favorites are in here, too. She’s a big Rolling Stones fan.”
    “No kidding,” Alex said, surprised.
    “Why is the floor covered in CDs?” Holly asked. They turned to see her coming down the stairs.
    “We’re talking about music,” Will said. “Coach was asking what you like. He says a person’s taste in music is like a map of their soul.”
    Holly looked at him with an eyebrow raised.
    Alex shrugged. “Okay, so I waxed poetic. Even football coaches are allowed to do that once in a while.”
    “Sure,” Holly said skeptically, sitting down in an armchair next to the couch. “Okay, then, what does my musical taste tell you about me? Assuming Will actually knows what my musical taste is.”
    “Well,” Alex said, leaning back again. “Some of it, we’ll hope, is not significant. Like Foreigner. But there seems to be a clear pattern in some of the other stuff. Joan Jett, Bruce Springsteen—that’s the rebel touch. Bad girls and bad boys. The Stones even more so. But there’s also passion and intensity, hunger for life. ‘Thunder Road’ and ‘Born to Run’ are about busting out, breaking free.”
    Holly frowned. “Hey, I just like those songs. I don’t have a secret urge to rebel.”
    Alex ignored her. “Van Morrison and Joni Mitchell are all about love. Love that changes you forever, love that burns you up and heals you at the same time. The kind of love you can’t live without.”
    He glanced at Holly and saw surprise in her eyes. She probably didn’t think he was capable of using the word love in a sentence. He grinned at her. “Aretha Franklin, on the other hand, is just a woman with the greatest voice God ever bestowed on a human being. You don’t need any other reasons for Aretha. We’ll just put her down to good taste.”
    Will was grinning, too. “No deep psychological analysis?”
    “Nope.” He rose to his feet and reached out a hand to help Holly up. “So, who’s ready to go shopping?”
     
    At one point during their mall trip they split up, Holly trying on clothes while Will and Alex went to two different music stores. As a surprise for Holly, Alex bought every CD of hers that Will could name. They had a great time, talking about bands and musicians and concerts they had seen and would like to see. And Will had come up with a list of his mom’s all-time favorite songs, or at least as many as he could remember, and Alex had written them all down.
    Later that night, after Holly and Will went to bed, he used the list to make Holly a mix CD.
    It was a little like being with her, Alex thought as he burned the last song and let it roll over him as he sat back on the couch. The song was Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get It On,” which was one he’d already had on hand and which happened to be one of his all-time favorites, as well.
    He grinned suddenly as he realized he was acting like a lovestruck college student, making a mix