Sophie: Oh, that’s good.
Damian: Thanks for responding to my texts. I wasn’t sure if texting my tutor was okay.
Sophie: Why wouldn’t it be okay?
Damian: Don’t know. Maybe because it’s not school-related and we aren’t…
Sophie: You mean friends?
Damian: Yeah.
Sophie: Well, I mean we could be…if you want.
I stare off in the distance. I don’t have a single friend at Harrington Bay Academy. I told myself before I came here that I wouldn’t get close to anyone. But Sophie isn’t just anyone. She’s nice and sweet and fun. And she cares, not only about my schoolwork, but about my happiness.
Damian: I’m fine with that if you are.
Sophie: Okay, sure. Friend.
Damian: Friend.
Her next text comes, but I don’t have a chance to read it because the door opens and a server sticks his head in.
“Are you Damian Harrington?”
“Yeah.”
“Your mother is asking for you to return to the ballroom. We’re ready to serve dinner and there will be speeches as well.”
I so wish I could bail, but I can’t. I tell him I’ll be there shortly, but he doesn’t move. “She made it clear that I’m to escort you to your table.”
I shut my eyes to regulate my breathing. Then I stand and follow him out of the room and to the ballroom, where mostly everyone is seated at tables.
Mom’s with her friends at the head table. She gives me a look, telling me she’s not happy with my behavior. I turn away from her.
Of course I’m not going to be joining her at the head table. She placed me with the snobby kids who can’t seem to stop making jabs at my dad.
There is only one empty seat at the table, and the server motions for me to occupy it. I sense the other kids giving me dirty looks, but I don’t glance in their direction.
“Do you need anything, Mr. Harrington?” the waiter asks. “A special request for a beverage, perhaps?”
“I’ll take Coke, thanks.”
He shifts from one foot to the other. Do they not have Coke here? Last I checked, rich people drink soda. “Perhaps something else?”
A few girls cover their mouths to hide giggles.
“Whatever you give me is fine, thanks.”
He nods and returns a short while later with sparkling water. I busy myself drinking so I won’t have to interact with the kids.
I keep my phone on my lap and read Sophie’s last text.So, friend, are you feeling a little better?
I stuff the phone in my pocket, wishing I could respond. The last thing I need are these kids finding out I have a tutor.
They talk amongst themselves, and every so often they comment about the filth at their table or the “fake”. I ignore them, focusing on the food instead. It’s all delicious, but I don’t really feel anything as I eat.
Mom and a few others make speeches. They’re about my grandma and what an amazing person she was. I smile despite my bad mood. Hearing all her accomplishments makes me proud to be her grandson. I wonder if she’s here with us in spirit. I wonder if she’s watching over me. I wonder if my dad is here as well.
