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“Fuck,” I grit. My hands form fists that pound down on my thighs. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I repeat, hitting myself with each shout.
“Feel better?” Brooklyn asks, and somehow her sarcastic tone breaks through my wall of anger enough that I relax my muscles and flatten my palms on my knees. I roll my head to the left and meet her worried eyes.
“I don’t. And usually, a good tantrum or two does the trick,” I say, forcing my mouth to lift on one side.
Brooklyn leans across the console and holds her palm to my cheek. I cover her hand with mine and hold on to her stare for a few breaths.
“I don’t know what to do,” I finally admit. That’s the crux of it all. I feel stuck, and more so than normal. If I don’t want to sleep somewhere, I call a friend and stay at their place. If I need to be alone for a while, I go for a long hike and climb some boulders. When my insides feel claustrophobic, I borrow one of my buddy’s cars and get in a drag race. I could jump from cliffs and race trains at railroad crossings all day, though, and I would still have to face the fact my father is screwed. And what’s worse, it’s my own damn family doing the screwing.
Chapter20
Brooklyn
Cameron didn’t talk much when we got back. Morgan noticed, but somehow I think she sensed not to ask him what was wrong. I made a deal with Lily to swap rooms for the night, not that she and Theo aren’t almost always in each other’s beds anyhow. The sixth form prefects aren’t really enforcers at Welles, so room checks never truly happen. By the time we’re all eighteen, we’re not so hip on tattling on one another for getting all coed in a dorm. I’m pretty sure the staff realizes that, too, but the job duty and the little checklist that gets submitted every night makes certain parents happy, so we all go through with the pointless ritual of saying “no boys are on the floor.”Check.
Morgan and I settled in for another replay of P and P, which Cameron could not fathom how we could watch again so soon, but part of my impetus was boring him enough to get some rest. Somewhere, around the time of the carriage ride, when Darcy takes Elizabeth’s hand, Morgan and I checked out.
It seems among the three of us, nobody heard my mom knocking at the door. I didn’t notice she was in the room until twelve seconds ago when she stood at the side of my bed, arms folded, and cleared her throat in that way only she can. It’s the kind of sound that saysyour assis mine so tread lightly, my dear.
Cameron is already sitting at the foot of my bed, his feet on the floor and his disheveled T-shirt physical proof that he slept here. Thank God, Morgan is in the room, otherwise this visit would take a high-and-mighty lecture route, as if she didn’t sneak into my dad’s room when they were students here.
“Mom, wha— Why are you here?” I rub my eyes and pull my phone from my dresser top to check the time. It’s just after five in the morning. This is early, even for her.
“Well, I thought it was to have a meaningful chat with my daughter, but apparently I need to write a check to Welles to add sex ed to their curriculum.” She holds her mouth in a tight line, a slight hint of sarcasm in her tone. That amusement does not make it to her face, however.
“We were watching a movie and all fell asleep. I swear,” I say, glad that it’s honestly the truth. Now, the other times? Not so much. For this one time I can get away with this excuse without breaking the Bennett code of not lying.
My mom tilts my computer screen back from where it sits on the other end of my bed, the end title screen for Pride and Prejudice paused on the screen. She glances to Cameron and taps the top of my computer.
“You enjoy the classics?” she asks him specifically.
“I find it to be a perfectly agreeable film, ma’am,” he responds. I suck in my lips to hold in the laugh, but Morgan fails, letting hers out.
My mom pushes the computer screen shut and glances to Cameron again, then to Morgan. Would you two mind if I had a minute with my daughter?
“I was just about to get to my room for class,” Cameron says, hovering after he stands, unsure whether he should kiss me goodbye or not. I’m willing to put on a show for my mom, but I think maybe he’s had his fill of judgement for the week, so he simply nods his head and slips out of our room.
“I have a hot shower calling my name. Take your time,” Morgan says, bundling pieces of her school uniform inside a gray Welles sweatshirt to carry away.
When she disappears from the room, my mom takes a seat across from me on Lily’s empty bed. No comment on the fact my third roommate is not in her bed at five in the morning. I guess Lily is not my mom’s problem.
“Do you mind telling me why your father said you are off the campaign and will not be attending any of the stump events with us?” My mom has devoted her life to helping my dad rise to this very place. Our falling out is as much of a jolt to her as it is to him.
“Probably because I told him I was ashamed of him,” I say.
I’m holding my own, but I do swallow hard when she shifts her weight and tips her head to look at me over the rims of her gold-trimmed glasses.
“You’re . . . I’m sorry, did you sayashamed of him?” My mom fingers the turtle pendant that hangs from the chain around her neck.
“I did. I am,” I reply.
“I see,” my mom hums. She drops the pendant against her breast plate and her gaze drifts off to one side.
“You know, Shelby and I were in the room next door when we went to Welles.” My mom loved her time at Welles. It’s where she met my father. He was a year ahead of her, though they’re only five months apart in age.
“I’m not sure how a trip down memory lane with you is going to get me to suddenly not be angry with Dad.” I get up from the bed to gather my things for the day. I don’t like arguing with my parents. It’s rare, and I think the last time was over a summer curfew when I was still seventeen. This is a different kind of disagreement. And she knows it.
“It’s funny how much of this place is the same, yet so much is different,” she continues. I do my best to pretend she’s not really here, that she’s merely radio noise while I get ready for class.
