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I look around at what I’m assuming is called the foyer, with it’s thirty-foot ceiling, massive chandelier, and an artwork collection that is certainly full of originals. A specific song has been running through my head for the twenty-five minutes it takes to ride over here, because while I’ll admit to being a little nervous, there is something undeniably ridiculous about this peace summit.
“Have you ever heard the songPunk Rock Girl?”
“Nope. Who sings it?”
“Dead Milkmen. It’s old. Just…sort of fits this particularmeet the parentssituation.”
Sarah eyes me suspiciously. “Is this like a Neidermeyer thing?”
“Huh?”
“Animal House? I watched it after you caught me feeding Shadow that carrot. Ring a bell?”
He starts cracking up. “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that.”
“I watched it as soon as I came home that day. First off, you could never make a movie like that today.”
He nods. “It’s beyond politically incorrect.”
“But the Neidermeyer thing was funny.”
“And spot on.”
“Whatever you say.” As she turns and gestures for me to follow her inside, I take her wrist. “How did it go?”
“It was a lot, but it’s good. We’re good now.”
I don’t know if thewe’reshe’s referring to means Sarah and her parents, or that her parents are on board with me and Sarah. Door number two isn’t likely so I won’t be holding my breath.
In the kitchen, it’s dead quiet except for the hissing sound of the coffee machine. Her mom is smoothing her messy hair back from off her face and her father is standing there just waiting to greet me. They’re both dressed casually, possibly even in the clothes they slept in. That alone has me feeling like I’ve walked into an alternate universe.
Mr. Hamilton steps forward, smiling with eyes that tell me he hasn’t gotten much sleep. “Good Morning, Liam. Thank you for driving Sarah, and for making sure she was all right. We appreciate it.” He shakes my hand, a firm grip with eye contact.
“Don’t thank me. I was happy to do it.”
“Liam,” her mother approaches me with an outstretched hand. “I’m Audrey Hamilton. We haven’t properly met, and I’m truly sorry about the way our last conversation went.”
I don’t say anything, becausethe way our last conversation wentimplies that I spoke, when in fact, I just stood there while she lobbed accusations and called me names. I hesitate, but for Sarah’s sake I take her outstretched hand as I study her. Her skin is washed out, her face is swollen and her eyes are bloodshot. The angry, ramrod-straight posture she had the other day when she was screaming bloody murder is gone. Now she has her free hand resting on the kitchen island to support herself.
Her breath stutters as she closes her eyes. Does she find the idea of me in their life so awful she can’t bring herself to really look at me? It’s either that or she’s ashamed to face me after calling me trash. I drop my hand when the moment drags on too long, and she turns to go back and fuss at the coffee machine. “Liam, how do you take your coffee?”
“I don’t drink coffee, but thanks.”
“Oh,” she turns back to look at me, and then she doesn’t know what to do with her hands. I’m not enjoying her discomfort, but I’m not unhappy about it either.
Mr. Hamilton says, “Would you like a soda, a water?”
And while I want to say no just to punish them by keeping this uncomfortable silence going, I can see Sarah from the corner of my eye looking nervously between me and her father. “Water would be great, thank you.”
He hands me a cut crystal water glass. “Sarah said you’re starting school in September?”
I shoot Sarah a look, hoping she hasn’t gone and tried to sell the idea of me to her parents. If so, I could have told her not to waste her energy. WhatI’mselling? Mr. and Mrs. Hamiltondefinitelyaren’t buying.
I give the briefest of nods. “Community college.”
Mrs. Hamilton says my name, and I’m thinking she’s about to launch into somethat’s greatbullshit, to tell me how community college is a great start or something, and just the sound of her voice has me on the verge of boiling over. So I’m surprised when her next words aren’t directed at me, but at them. “Can you two give us a minute?”
“Can we sit?” she asks me.
