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As if they needed one.
“You’re going to quit that job,” said her father.
“I need my job,” she said.
“Oh, you do not,” said her mother. “What could you possibly need a job for? We give you everything you need.”
In a way, they did. She had her car, a hand-me-down sedan she’d gotten when she turned sixteen and her father decided he wanted something new. Her parents covered insurance. She always said she’d pay for her own gas—but they’d given her a gas card for her seventeenth birthday.
But she doubted they’d pay for a security deposit on a new apartment in New York City after senior year. Having a stash of cash meant freedom to do what she wanted to do.
“He didn’t bother me,” she said. “I think he was just as surprised to see me—”
“The last thing the Merricks need is leverage,” said her father, gesturing with his fork. “This deal was a bad idea from the beginning, before we knew how powerful that boy would get.”
Emily sighed. “I’m not leverage.”
“You could be,” said her mother. “I’m not having you come home looking like Tyler.”
Emily peeked through her bangs across the table at her brother. He wasn’t eating, either—his fingers were too busy flying across the face of his phone, his own mode of ignoring their parents. He was two years younger, but already stood about four inches taller than she did. He’d spent freshman year growing into his features, and now, for the first time, he looked older. The bruising on his cheek had turned yellow and purple, sharp and striking against his pale skin and white-blond hair. She studied the injury, remembering Michael’s sarcasm from the batting cage.
Poor Tyler. I’m sure you got the whole story.
“Take a picture,” Tyler muttered without looking up. “It’ll last longer.”
“Original.” Along with the height, he’d grown into a crappy attitude, too. “Who are you texting?”
“None of your business.”
She didn’t really care, but it was easier to bicker with Tyler than to fight with her parents. “Sounds like a girl.”
He shot her a glare over the phone. “Well, you sound like a—”
“Tyler.” Their mother’s voice sliced through his coming insult. “No electronics during dinner.”
He made a disgusted sound and put the phone in his lap.
But Emily knew he’d be back at it as soon as their folks were distracted again.
“What did he say to you?” said her father.
“Nothing.” She pushed the food around her plate again. She hadn’t mentioned her own actions with the putter—and didn’t plan on telling them now. “He just came in to use the batting cages. It was fine.”
“Convenient,” snapped her father. “Your first day of work, you’re alone, he comes in there—”
“He said he goes there all the time!”
Her parents went still. It was the wrong thing to say.
“I don’t want you going back there,” said her mother, her voice hushed.
“It’s fine—”
“The hell it is,” said her father. “I’ve been talking to Josh Drake. He thinks we should just take care of the problem ourselves.”
Tyler rolled his eyes. “Seth’s dad says that every time he cracks open a beer.”
Though he was a few years younger, Seth Drake was Tyler’s best friend. He was an Earth Elemental like his dad—and like Michael Merrick—but the Drake abilities stopped at pulling strength from the ground they stood on. Emily had no idea where Michael’s abilities stopped.
