But right now, every single one of them evaporates out of my mind, and it isn’t Ghorza glowering at me.
It’s Elethior.
Judging me. Finding me lacking.
I should say something to Ghorza but all I can feel is a rising need to get away. Or to scream at her, and Mom, once and for all,Do you know why I started doing any of that stuff? Did you ever realize where it came from?
“Stop blaming Seb,” Orok barks at his mother.
My chin jerks back. I haven’t heard him use that tone with herever. That’s hisback the fuck upvoice that he only has to break out when things get rowdy at parties.
“Ichoose not to fight people,” Orok says. “I’mtwenty-four years old,and I make my own choices. If anything, Seb’s a great influence. He upholds more of Urzoth’s traits than I do.”
“Orok,” Ghorza says. “You don’t have to lie for—”
“I’m not lying. Seb’s doingamazing. He got a grant. He got ahighly competitiveresearch grant that he fought hard for because he’s brilliant and responsible. I know I’ve not done nearly enough to get you to stop blaming stuff on him, and I’m honestly not sure why he puts up with me as his friend, but I’m tired of letting him get pounded on. Sostop,Mom.”
Someone cast a silence spell on the room. That has to be it.
Ghorza gapes at her son. Orok’s gone red, and he pants a little, staring at his mother like repercussions will swiftly rain down upon him.
And my mom’s looking at me now, all her animated sponges halted in their scrubbing.
“You got a research grant?” she asks.
Her question is hung with such pride that it overturns me. A left hook to Ghorza’s right uppercut.
She didn’t act this proud when I told her about the job I have lined up. Then again, I told her over text, and her response was a GIF of a duck clapping, so.
“Y-yeah,” I stammer. “It’s not… it isn’t a big deal.”
“Liar,” Orok counters.
I look up at him. He smiles.
“It’s a big deal,” he tells me. His focus shoots to my mom. “He’s been preparing for months. Had to get references from his professors, pull his project into a cohesive proposal, provide documented plans and real-world applications. There was an award brunch. He crushed it.” He includes his mom with a look. “It tookstrengthto do all that.”
Half my mouth tips up.
I haven’t reallyfeltall the work I’ve done, the accomplishment of it all. But yeah. Itisa big deal; Ididcrush it. The same with getting that job—I’ve worked hard for all this shit, and I earned every bit of it.
Mom dries her hands and digs her phone out of her purse. “Did the university post photos of the brunch?”
My brief island of good feelings crumbles out from beneath me.
“Oh, ah—” I slip back into the kitchen and try to reach for her phone, but she holds it away.
“Sebastian,” she says. “If it’s such an accomplishment, then there are photos, aren’t there? I want to see. We deserve to be a part of your life.”
There’s a lot to unpack in what she said, but under no circumstances can I let her see a picture of Elethior and me. Together. And the announcement that I’ll be working with him.
The ramifications ripple out like a collapsing run of dominos.
“It’s not a big deal,” I repeat. And fling a helpless look at Orok. “Right? Orok’s exaggerating.”
He has the same realization and I see theOh shitin his eyes. “There probably aren’t pictures,” he tries. “It was a small brunch—”
“The Mageus Research Grant?” Mom asks, reading on her phone, and my pulse hums a disjointed rhythm.
