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His eyes won’t leave me, a million questions stirring beneath his gaze. Only then do I understand I’ve got it all wrong. He’s not surprised that I talked back. He’s confused.
He doesn’t remember me.
“Fuck you, Xavier,” Dia snaps. “She’s staying.”
“You know, guys, if we’re going to hang out with the less fortunate from now on, at least tell me so I can add that shit to my resume.” Xavier huffs a sarcastic laugh and ambles back inside Theo’s house.
I’m stunned.
“Sorry about that. It’s not you.” Finn breaks the silence as soon as his buddy’s out of range. “’He’s shitty to everyone these days. Just going through a bit of a rough patch.”
I nod, knowing damn well he’s lying. It is me. Xavier was always like this in my presence, but I guess I’d deluded myself into thinking he might have changed over the past ten years.
The kids at school got at least one thing right.
Xavier Emery isn’t like his friends.
He’s worse.
* * *
“You didn’t answer my question earlier. Your name… where’s it from? Shampoo or hand cream?” Theo leans over the pool table to take the first shot and break up the balls.
I roll my eyes at his question, a hint of a smile on my lips. We’re on our fourth game.
It turns out Theodore Cox isn’t the worst conversationalist when he’s not making bad jokes about my name. He’s been chatting me up since we all relocated to the living room.
Axel left twenty minutes ago. Good riddance. I couldn’t bend over to play without feeling his eyes on me. As for Xavier, he never came back after he stormed off. Finn tried texting him, but it seems I repulse him so much the poor guy couldn’t take another second of being in my presence.
“Wait, isn’t your sister famous or something?” Theo asks when I don’t respond to his teasing.
“Maybe. Why? You want an autograph?” I mock, knocking down three balls at once.
Theo cracks a smile. “Sorry. Must suck getting asked about her all the time.”
I’m tempted to tell him he’s actually the first to bring her up in a hot minute. Ashley was so young when she won Rising Voices, the people who remember her are usually older, parents and grandparents for the most part. I’m always a pinch surprised when someone our age knows Ashley from her TV days.
Not to mention my sister is pretty low key.
She goes to her private music school two towns over, keeps away from parties and the Silver Springs youth. She’s also not a bragger. You’d never be able to tell when meeting her that she’s approaching two million subscribers on YouTube, or that she was loaded by age six.
“My mom’s obsessed with those damn talent shows,” Theo elaborates. “She’s watching reruns of her favorites right now. Not a single episode goes by that she doesn’t talk my ears off about that winner who was born and raised here. Ashley, is it?”
I nod.
“I looked her up. She’s good.”
Believe me, she knows.
“She’s also hot. Like very.” Theo smirks.
She knows that, too.
Yes, Ashley’s got the whole package: the voice of an angel, tanned, slim with all the right curves, amber eyes, long honey hair. People used to refer to her as “the beauty of the family,” which, naturally, made me feel like the ugly duckling. But my dad liked to say we were equally beautiful.
Only different kinds of beautiful.
Took me years to understand what he meant by that.
