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I catch Xave’s eye at that exact moment, and we can’t help ourselves. We bust a gut right there in front of my dad and Nanny Number Nine, and Secretary Scowley Brows, and all the other staff who’ve left their doors open because, let’s be honest, my visits to Tromely’s office are probably the most exciting part of their week.
And yeah, the laughter is poor form, but come on—I’m pretty sure a couple of guys doing a stupid stunt on a dare is literally the definition of typical seventeen-year-old behavior.
“You think this is funny?” my dad roars.
I bite the inside of my cheek, and Xave turns his head to hide his laughter; to save me (and possibly himself), from my dad’s wrath. Not that Graham would ever totally lose it, because he never has. This “raising his voice in anger” thing is as bad as it gets. He’s always the composed businessman any other time, ruffled by nothing.
Except me, apparently. And football.
It’s the only combo that gets him riled up. Which is probably why he leaves disappointed after almost every interaction with me these days.
And I do feel bad. I know he’s got more than enough on his plate right now without adding these weekly Tromely meetings to the pile. So, I rein it in. Pull myself together.
“I don’t think it’s funny,” I assure him, trying my best to sound solemn and remorseful.Repentant.And then I add, “No smart-ass comments in Tromely’s office. I swear.”
He studies me for a moment, probably trying to decide if I’m being serious.
“Good,” he finally says. “The only thing I want coming out of your mouth is an apology. Otherwise, you let me do the talking.”
I nod. Again.
He keeps watching me for a solid five seconds and then shakes his head. “You realize she’s going to lose her patience with you real soon, right?” he asks, voice still raised. “And once that happens… once she reels in all the good-will she’s been showing you so far, she’s going to have to start taking action. And that means pulling you from the team, Seb.”
He loosens his tie and scrubs a hand along his lightly stubbled jaw, looking like he’s the one who might get pulled from the team. To him, I think, it’s basically the same thing.
“Star quarterback or not, she’s not going to have much choice,” he continues, “Because you’re pushing her into a corner and no matter how bad they need you on that team, Mrs. Tromely also needs to preserve her dignity. And some sense of authority at this school.”
I slide a little lower in my seat because it’s that or roll my eyes, and I can’t imagine what kind of reaction that would get from him. Full-blown heart attack, I’m guessing.
“Are you even hearing me here?” he practically yells.
“Yup.” I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees, glancing up at the reception area. “Pretty sure everyone in this whole school block can hear you.”
Graham follows my gaze and pauses long enough to nod apologetically at the receptionist.
She smiles back like she feels bad for him. Or maybe she’s just disappointed that he’s gonna lower his voice now and she won’t be able to make out the rest of whatever he’s still got to say. Like I said, I’m ninety-nine percent positive these visits are the highlight of her week.
Xavier, at least, pretends to be enthralled with something on his phone. Because, despite what everyone thinks about him and the fact that his parents let him do pretty much whatever he wants, he’s a shockingly considerate guy. And loyal as hell to his friends.
His brother’s rent-a-mom, on the other hand, has no issue using my public reaming-out as a distraction while she waits to be called into a meeting about a kid she couldn’t give two craps about. She’s hanging on Graham’s every word, even though I doubt his lackluster speech comes anywhere close to making up for whatever talk show she’s being forced to miss right now. It’s all she does while Xavier’s little brother is at preschool: binge-watch talk-shows and make candles for some online business she has on the side. Or maybe that was the last nanny. It’s hard to keep track. Finn Rockwell goes through nannies like his mother goes through lovers.
Graham leans in, so he’s right up in my face, now. “I don’t think you do get it,” he seethes in what he must think is a whisper, but is still pretty loud. “That real soon you won’t just be looking at the threat of a few days’ suspension. You’re crapping all over your spot on the team at a time when recruiters all have their eyes on you.”
He pauses for effect, and I nod solemnly on cue. I’m nodding so much at this point, there’s a strong possibility I’ll morph into a real live bobble-head.
“And believe me, Seb, no one wants a jackass on their team… no matter what your stats are or how talented you are. Because if they—”
“Sebastian? Mr. Murdoch?” Mrs. Tromely calls from her now open doorway. “Why don’t you come on in now?”
I actually let out a sigh of relief as I slide out of my seat. Xavier glances up from his phone and winks at me, the bastard, and I flip him off as I follow Graham into Mrs. Tromely’s office.
And that’s when it happens.
My brain suddenly glitches.
I totally forget what I’ve been hauled in for—what infraction or stupid stunt or prank or whatever it is I’ve done that landed me in this meeting with Mrs. Tromely. I literally have no idea why I’m here. Why my dad is here with me.
My mind just goes completely and eerily blank.
