The answer wrote itself all over Mom’s face, the warmth in her eyes cooling off like a sudden gust of wind that’d slammed the door shut.
And like a tree uprooted by the breeze, I felt like I was about to fall.
“He… isn’t feeling well,” she said.
Isn’t feeling well. Words we’d been hearing for almost two months. Words repeated so often that they had lost their meaning.
Jamie once more lifted his head. “But it’s Senior Night.”
“He knows where both of you are going,” she said gently, as if her calm tone would soothe the hurt. “We already paid the enrollment deposit. It’s not as if he’d be surprised.”
That wasn’t the point, though. Senior Night at Alderton-Du Ponte was a formality, sure, but it was tradition, a coming-of-age ceremony that every high schooler in the country club looked forward to. It was their way—and their parents’ way—of being able to brag about their future at Dartmouth or Harvard or Stanford, or any of the other impressive universities.
Dad was supposed to come and introduce me to Dr. Pembleton because they’d gone to Mullhound together. It was supposed to be Dad’s prime moment of, “This is my daughter, following in my footsteps. I’m so proud of her.”
Even though it’d been years, I could still remember how Mom and Dad had been excited for Destelle’s Senior Night—and could still remember how she’d refused to go.
I was living the dream Destelle robbed him of. He was supposed to come.
Up until the middle of March, Dad had seemed pleased I was following in his footsteps. Now, it wasn’t like he couldn’t care less—it was almost like he resented me for it. At least that was how it felt.
“Can I borrow your earrings, then?” I asked Mom, voice level, as if the news hadn’t stung. I could not be upset. I was perfect. “The pearl ones? As a little consolation loan?”
A relieved laugh burst from her. “Fine. Just this once. I have a necklace that would look lovely with it.” Her gaze dropped to my throat.
My dress dipped a little lower than I normally liked, my necklace taking up some of the real estate. It was a thin white gold chain with a teardrop pendant that looked like an opal in the light. There was anothercharm nudged by the pendant, one that’d been added after the fact, in the shape of a four-leaf clover. The necklace didn’t suit the dress—it rarely suited anything I wore—but I never took it off. “Just the earrings would be great.”
“Nellie gets pearls,” Jamie muttered. “What about me?”
“I have another pair, if you’d like to pierce your ears really quick,” Mom said playfully, walking toward my brother. She threaded her fingers through his hair, taming it down. His hair was more like Dad’s and Destelle’s, wavier than straight. “How about I let you take your book with you tonight? You can sneak off into one of the coat closets after the ceremony, just this once.”
Just this once, she said, as if Jamie didn’t do that for every single fundraiser. She just never noticed.
Jamie still had on a pouting face, but said, “I suppose that’ll suffice.”
“Suffice.” Mom huffed at him and his odd way of speaking.
“S-U-F-F-I-C-E.” It was almost compulsory, spelling it out.
Mom’s smile bloomed wider. Her pride was almost enough to chase away the disappointment that’d bit into me like teeth. “My two sillies.” She patted Jamie’s shoulder, retreating back through the bedroom. “I’ll grab the earrings and meet you both downstairs. The car leaves in five minutes. And, Jamie? Fix your tie.” She disappeared into the hallway.
I stood still for a moment, lightly swaying in place.Dad was somewhere in the house,not feeling well, and I knew for a fact he would not emerge to see us off.
I’m going to your alma mater, I wanted to tell him, to shake him from the walking coma he was in.You wanted Destelle to go there. What happened? When did you stop being proud of me?
“What does that mean about Dr. Pembleton?” Jamie asked, because Jamie knew everything.
“Nothing changes. I can still introduce myself—Iamstill going to Mullhound, and Iamstill interested in any recommendations he can give, even if Dad isn’t there to back me up.”
Arthur Pembleton was a legendary professor at Mullhound, well-connected in the community and known for being one of the best defense attorneys this side of the country. He’d retired from practicing law a few years ago, going back to his alma mater to teach it—and created a fellowship for undergraduates who had intentions of pursuing law. Highly competitive. Completely exclusive. Only four students were selected each year.
Never a freshman, of course, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t make a killer first impression.
Jamie, after slipping a sliver of paper he used as a bookmark into his page, pushed up his glasses and got to his feet. “You didn’t tell Mom about Mr. ASMR, did you?”
I put all the thoughts of Dad on a shelf in my mind. “No.”
“Because you know she won’t approve of you meeting up with astrangeryou met online.”
