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She’s sweet and kind and gentle and wonderful, but she’s also completely and totally off the table. She’s got something going on in her life that I know nothing about: something that’s d
riving her to the brink of madness. I have to find a way to pull her back to reality. I need to find a way to save her, to show her that everything’s going to be fine.
Before it’s too late.
But Adalee isn’t mine.
We aren’t together.
And besides, that’s not what Margaret asked.
She wants to know if I’m dating anyone, if I’m seeing a girl from school, and I’m...
Well, I’m not.
I gave Dana a pretty abrupt fare-thee-well before I left for winter break. Maybe I should have been nicer to her.
Well, yeah, I definitely should have been nicer to her, but the truth is that I don’t want Dana. I don’t want anyone but Adalee.
And I don’t know what to do about that.
“No,” I finally say, shaking my head. I force a smile onto my face even though I’m not feeling it at all. “There’s no one.”
It’s a lie.
Chapter Seven
Adalee
SOMEHOW, I MANAGE TO survive dinner and dessert without having to be alone with Frank. I’m not really sure how I manage it, but I think I have Margaret to blame. She knows perfectly well what Frank is like. She knows what he thinks about me.
She knows that he’s got me pinned down: trapped in a life I don’t want.
She also knows that there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.
After dinner is finished, Margaret clears the table and Frank, Harrison, and I sit around for a few minutes. I’m dreading what comes next because I just know that as soon as I’m alone with Frank, he’s going to fucking grill me.
What am I doing?
How are my grades?
Is there anything I need to tell him?
Does Harrison like me yet?
“Harrison, how did your final exams go?” Frank speaks diplomatically to his son, as though there isn’t this heavy cloud of discomfort hanging over us.
“Uneventful,” Harrison says.
“What were your scores? They haven’t been posted yet.”
Crescent Academy likes to keep parents in the loop as much as possible when it comes to grades. Most of the time, everything’s posted the same day as the exam. Winter break tests are a little different. We’re talking about end-of-the-semester exams, and those are really essay-heavy. Some of them take days or even weeks for the instructors to grade.
This is something Frank dislikes. I know that the other parents do, too, because I’ve heard other students complain about this before.
“No idea,” Harrison says. He reaches for an apple from a center dish, and he brings it to his mouth. I try not to stare at his lips as he bites down on it, wrapping his mouth around the fruit. Why the hell can’t I stop thinking about Harrison like that?
I hate myself for it.
