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“Hi, honey,” she glanced up from where she was rolling some kind of dough on the marble countertop. “You’re home early.”
“Yeah.” I rapped my knuckles on the counter. “I skipped practice. There’s, um, something I need to talk to you about.”
“What is it?” She straightened while she wiped her hands on a dishtowel, eyes wide at the seriousness in my tone. For a moment, my resolve faltered, and I wondered if I was doing the right thing.
“Maybe we should sit down.” I scratched my head, turning toward the sofa across the room as my stomach tied in knots.
“Toph, you’re scaring me,” she said, coming around the island to stand in front of me.
I swallowed, meeting her gaze, then dropping my eyes to her hands, which were covered in flour, before I took them in mine and guided her to the couch.Inhaling, I gathered every ounce of courage I had. This wasn’t my responsibility; I knew that. This burden was unfair, but telling her was the right thing. Eventually, the truth would surface, and it would be so much worse if Mom had to find out from a friend, or someone at the school, or by stumbling across them together somehow.
So I swallowed and steeled myself for whatever reaction may come, then said, “I have something to tell you. It’s about Dad . . .”
Chapter 28
PENELOPE
Aweekpassed,andasthedaysslidby,IeventuallystoppedcheckingmyphoneforareplyfromTopher.Hissilencesaideverything.
I laid sprawled out on the sofa in the living room, where I popped another Frito in my mouth while I watched my favorite horror flick, only I didn’t laugh at the stupid girl who fell for the trap this time. Instead, I frowned. “I get you, girl. I totally get you,” I said as she headed down the stairs to check on a loud noise. Because if I learned one thing these past weeks, it was that curiosity was lethal. I should’ve stopped pretending to be Julie long before Topher found out what I’d done, but I hadn’t because I’d become curious. Curious about who he was if not the royal I saw strutting through the halls of Lakeview. Curious about whether his life was really all that perfect. Curious as to whether he could actually fall for a girl like me. Curious about his secrets. Bottom line, I’d started talking to him for one reason and wound up continuing our exchange because I’d been eager to get to know him—all of him.
And now look at me.
I glanced down to the ratty pajama pants and t-shirt I still wore, even though it was four o’clock on a Saturday. With a sigh, I set the bag of Frito’s down on the coffee table at the same time my father and sister burst through the front door, and I was well aware I had been sitting in this same spot just last weekend. It was like a depressing episode of deja vu. My life was so uneventful, I could hardly stand it.
Sara burst through the door and hurried to my side while my father hovered in the doorway, jingling the keys in his hand while clutching a garment bag in the other.
“You won’t believe where we were,” Sara said, her smile nearly splitting her face in two.
But I wasn’t really in the mood for guessing games, so I simply said, “I dunno. Where?”
“Mr. Elliot offered Dad his job back and a raise and he—”
My father patted her on the shoulder, a signal for her to stop as I glanced up at him, trying to hide the fact I wasn’t surprised by the news, though it took him long enough. In fact, I was starting to wonder if my deception had all been for nothing.
“So you got your job back?” I asked.
“Sort of,” he said, and when my forehead scrunched, he cleared his throat and said, “He said there’d been some sort of mistake with the equipment and offered a raise for the trouble, but I quit.”
I blinked, waiting for the punchline. When it didn’t come, I asked, “Come again?”
Dad rounded the coffee table in front of me while I tracked his movements. If he was going insane, I wanted to know. But all seemed fine as he took a seat in front of me on the table and repeated, “I turned him down. I quit my job.”
I opened my mouth, but he continued before I had a chance to so much as squeak out a word. “Told Elliot where he could shove his promotion and that if he ever threatened my daughter again—”
“He’d kick his ass,” Sara chimed in, and my father shot her a disapproving look.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I crossed my legs on the sofa as I tried to come to terms with what they were telling me, but my brain kept circling back to the fact he was still unemployed. “But why? What are you gonna do? What about all that stuff you said—”
“I was wrong. To blame you. You made a mistake by lying to me, one I hope you won’t repeat.”
“Oh, trust me, I learned my lesson about lying,” I said, staring down at my black painted nails. The same shade as darkness. The color of mourning, depression, lost hope.
“This week gave me a lot of time to reflect on what happened, on what I want out of life, and he never should’ve threatened you,” Dad continued. “And he, for damn sure, shouldn’t have accused me of stealing.”
My eyes widened. Dad never swore.
“I’ve done nothing but given him two-hundred percent over the years, and he had zero reason to question my integrity. As far as his son, well, I can’t control what he does with his own kid, but you have my permission, as long as you swear he’s a decent guy, to date or hang out or . . . whatever you kids call it these days.”
