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“Hmmmm,” I say, adding a question mark next to the room listing on my sheet.
“Or am I messing with you?” Beck adds, sending me a smirk as he moves the white figurine forward.
I narrow my eyes at him.
I have to show Sophia one of my cards on her next turn, and I walk all the way around the table just to show her the illustration of a gun to ensure Beck can’t peek. Out of everyone at the table, I really just care about beating him.
She shakes her head as I head back to my seat beside him. “Anyone ever tell you you’re competitive?”
“Multiple times a day,” I assure her.
And it’s echoed again when I’m first to correctly guess the suspect, location, and weapon. Karl leaves shortly after the game ends, to get ready for a gig later.
“I think I’m done with him this time,” Sophia states.
“Great,” Beck says dryly. He grabs the Clue box and heads inside.
“I need to meet some new guys,” Sophia tells me. “Clubbing! We should go clubbing next weekend!”
“Uh, sure,” I reply, not sure what the proper response is. Meeting Beck’s sister didn’t occur to me when I agreed to brunch. And hanging out with her sounds…complicated. Sophia doesn’t appear offended by my uncertain response, bouncing back inside while I follow.
Beck and his parents are in the marble foyer. Goodbyes get exchanged, and Erika tells me how much she’s looking forward to the youth camp next Sunday. I experience another spasm of unease, remembering I committed to that. Sophia gives me a farewell hug.
I smile, and then we’re back outside.
“Sophia likes you,” Beck comments as we climb into his car.
“I like her,” I respond glibly. “She wants to go clubbing together next weekend.” I study Beck’s face closely.
His expression barely flickers as he turns down the cobblestone driveway. “Not surprised,” he says.
We roll through the gate and then hit cement. Beck accelerates accordingly, and soon we’re speeding along back toward the city.
“Thank you for inviting me today. It was nice,” I say. The words sound stiff and formal. “Your parents are really nice. It’s nice you’re so close with them.”
Nice is the only adjective I’m capable of coming up with, apparently.
Today was a mistake. Not because it went poorly or I didn’t enjoy myself, but because it complicated everything even more.
“Did you call your dad back?” The question is soft, not accusing.
“No. I didn’t.” I swallow. “My dad, he—he didn’t deal with my mom leaving very well. None of us did, really. But Hallie and I were just kids. He was the adult. He was supposed to hold it all together, and instead he fell apart. By the time he started acting like a parent again, I didn’t need one. Or want one, at least. We don’t really talk and…and now he’s getting remarried.” I sigh. “He called the day I found out I got into Scholenberg, which kinda ruined the celebration for me. Not that he even knew what it was. I’ve only met Sandra—his fiancée—once, at my sister’s wedding.”
“How long have they been together?”
“Three years,” I admit. “I don’t go back home much.”
“Why not?”
“It’s weird. There are all these memories of the past. Before my mom left. After. My sister has forgiven him. She went through all the same shit I did, and now she’s just fine with it all. Married with a kid, going over to his house for dinner like we were always one big happy family. I’m the resentful one stuck in the past, just getting more bitter as they move on with their lives. I don’t want to deal with it, so I just avoid it. It’s unhealthy, I know.”
“Just because you had the same childhood doesn’t mean you have to respond to things the same way. You’re not the same person as your sister. I mean, look at me and Sophia. We had the same upbringing, and we’re totally different people.”
“I guess. I’m good at soccer. But I’m bad at feelings. And all the emotion crap.”
It’s an explanation. A warning too, because the lines between us are getting really blurry.
A pause, then, “You’re fucking fantastic at football, Saylor.”
