“I know, but it’s for a really petty reason. It’s all because some girl thinks Liv stole her boyfriend.” That’s the nicest, most PG way I can put it.
Dad shrugs.Girls will be girls.
Mom raises a brow. “Well, did she?”
“No. He wasn’t her boyfriend.”
Zander hides his smile behind a heaping bite of lasagna.
“That sort of thing happens all the time,” Mom says, unbothered. “Everyone will be over it in a few weeks.”
Maybe, but I don’t want any part of the catty nonsense. Unlike Mom, I don’t thrive on drama. I mutter, “I doubt it.”
“Well, it has nothing to do with you. There’s no reason you still can’t be a KPT.”
“Yeah, there is. I can’t do that to Liv.”
“Oh, Betts.” Mom gives me her patronizing pity eyes. I’m surprised she doesn’t reach across the table and pat my hand. “That’s sweet. But Rush is a competition. You have to throw some elbows to get to the prize.”
Without asking, I grab Zander’s wine and throw a big gulp down my throat. “So—how’s Jamie?”
Eyes alight, my parents regale Zander and me with one “simply hilarious” Jamie story after the next. I love my brother, but wow, Mom and Dad have a serious blind spot when it comes to him. He’s a borderline degenerate, but in their eyes he’s just a fun, all-American guy.
We spend only about ten minutes of our two-hour dinner talking about my classes, and even then, I’m the one who brings them up. Mom and Dad aren’t even sure what courses I’m taking.
Dad looks bewildered. “Sociology? Why would you take that?”
I don’t dare mention that it’s a requirement for women’s studies. “It’s helpful in analyzing literature.”
“You need to take something practical. I thought we talked about you taking some communications classes.”
We did talk about it—and I said I wasn’t interested.
“Oh Derek,” Mom simpers. “Let her take what she enjoys.”
“What kind of job is she going to get with an English degree?” Concern deepens the wrinkles on Dad’s forehead.
She pats his arm and smiles at Zander. “She’ll be just fine.”
I may be the first person in history to choke on tiramisu. My eyessting as I hack up a wad of espresso-soaked ladyfingers. I know exactly what Mom is implying, and I’m mortified. I want to shout at her across the table, “I’m not in college to find a rich husband!”
Zander pats my back as I clear the last of the dessert out of my throat. “You okay there, babe?” I can tell by his clueless smile that Mom’s hint flew right over his head.
Afraid of giving Mom any more ammo, I keep quiet for the rest of dinner and the ride home. My parents brought with them the life I’ve lived for eighteen years, the one I’m trying to escape down here in the mountains. Earlier today, I was a competent college student with goals, two hours with Mom and Dad and I’m back to playing the same old role: irrational Betts.
On the way to their hotel, Mom and Dad drop Zander and me off on campus, but I decline his invitation to hang out tonight at O-Chi. I have to entertain again tomorrow and I need some downtime.
As soon as I open the door to Newberry Hall, I feel it, like I’ve smacked face-first into a wall, only it’s a wall of tension, not stone. As always, my first instinct is to ignore it, to push through. But Leo’s voice snakes into my mind.Pay attention to what you’re feeling.
Fine. But only for a second.
Like a doctor, I analyze the symptoms: prickling agitation and a hot electric charge. Then I make a diagnosis: someone is angry, but not to the degree Zander was the other night.
The vibes get stronger as I make my way down the hall, and by the time I reach my room, I’ve already guessed their source. Sure enough, I enter to find Liv red-faced and muttering. She’s slamming drawers and stomping around the small space, looking for objects to safely hurl into the walls and floor. As I duck out of the way of a flying binder clip, she notices me.
“Tell me your night was better than mine,” she growls, chest heaving.
“Um. Probably.”Marginally.I close the door gently behind me. “What happened?”
