CHAPTER 15 #2
When we walked by the dining room, I saw Jamie sitting at the table. His eyes were lifted from his notebook. They narrowed on me. Leave it alone, Nell.
I ignored him. “Jamie’s and my birthday is this next Saturday,” I told Dad, following his silent footsteps into the kitchen. “Mom rented out the ballroom at ADP for a little graduation and eighteenth present—”
“I know. She and I talked about it.” Dad went to the fridge, pulling out eggs. He eyed their expiration date. “Your mother said you had plans today?”
I’d wanted to ask him if he was planning on coming—but then again, I wasn’t sure I’d want to hear his answer. “With the Pembletons. I’m excited to meet Dr. Pembleton. I’m excited to ask him if he remembers anything about when you two went to school together.”
The fridge door must’ve slipped, because it shut hard. The condiments rattled inside. “Nellie. You’re not stringing along that Pembleton boy to get to Arthur.”
It wasn’t a question, but I still sucked in a breath. “O-Of course not! Gosh, no. It’s a long story, but I knew Carter before—”
“Since I won’t be your mentor, you’re finding someone else?”
“Dad. Shouldn’t you want to be my mentor? I would’ve thought—”
The faint jingle of Dad’s ringtone sounded then, interrupting me.
He fished it from his sweatpants pocket, and I watched as his face sparked as he glanced at the screen.
When he pressed it to his ear, I realized why.
“Destelle,” he greeted, the warmest tone I’d heard from him in months. “Well, isn’t this a pleasant surprise?”
And just like that, my mood took a nose dive.
“How’s it going in your neck of the woods?” Dad cradled his phone between his chin and ear as he took the eggs over to the counter. “Oh, really? Tell him I said hi.”
I fantasized shoving forward and yanking the phone out of his hand, hanging up on my sister, and taking his attention back for myself. The smile that’d touched his mouth when he saw my sister’s name should’ve been for me, who stood right in front of him. Not her.
My hands curled into tight fists.
I stomped toward the dining room, slumping into a chair across from Jamie. “He sounds like a completely different person.”
“Try not to be upset about it,” Jamie replied lightly, turning back to his notebook. “It’s a good thing he’s feeling better.”
“The second she hangs up, he’ll turn back into a zombie.”
“Well, then we should be happy Stella’s de-zombifying him, yeah?”
“Stella.” I scoffed at her nickname. “You and I are normally on the same page about things.”
Jamie continued writing.
“Why aren’t you as upset with her as I am?”
“What am I supposed to be upset with her about? The fact that she’s an adult living her life?”
I sat back in my chair slowly. “You think I’m being ridiculous.”
His pencil paused, his eyes slipping closed. “No.” He let out a soft breath. “I get it. You feel abandoned—”
“We were. We were the annoying little siblings she left in the dust when her boyfriend hit it big. She never calls. She never comes home.” Folding my arms over my chest, I turned to stare out the window. “We were abandoned, Jamie. And I’m the only one who gets that.”
“Jamie, Nellie,” Dad called from the kitchen. “Come say hi to your sister.”
Jamie dropped his pencil and stood, while I watched it roll into the spiral of his notebook. I thought about throwing it across the room so he’d have to hunt for it.
“Hey, Stella,” Jamie greeted cheerfully, as if he hadn’t heard a word I’d just said. Traitor.
I didn’t want to be mad at him for it. I didn’t want to force him to pick a side. But as my twin, the choice should’ve been obvious.
Their conversation didn’t last long, and Jamie’s replies were pretty short. Awkward “yeah, I’m doing good, you?” and “yeah, I’m super excited.” The way you’d talk to a distant aunt, not a sister.
“Nellie.” I lifted my head to find Jamie half in the doorway of the dining room, stretching Dad’s phone out to me. “She… wants to talk to you.”
I stared at him, not moving an inch. “Why?”
“Talk to your sister,” Dad said from the counter, the first order he’d given me in what felt like forever.
Jamie narrowed his eyes ever so slightly, sympathetic. Just do it.
I begrudgingly rose from my seat and rounded the table, taking the phone from Jamie’s outstretched hand. I lifted the phone to my ear, even though every ounce of me wholly did not want to. “Hello.”
“Wow, I haven’t heard your voice in forever.” Destelle’s tone was light, happy, as if there was nothing wrong at all in her beautiful life. “You sound so mature, Nellie.”
And she sounded so condescending. “I am mature.”
“Sure, sure.” Destelle laughed a little. “I’m planning to bring back a little surprise from Seattle. What size sweatpants does Jamie wear?”
I was silent for a long moment. Unlike Jamie, I didn’t get “hey, how are you?” or “are you excited for graduations?” I didn’t get a single question relating to anything about me. “You want to get him sweatpants?”
“Hey.” She sounded like she was pouting. “Is he still by you? Way to ruin the surprise.”
“That’s the first thing you say to me?”
Jamie took a step toward me as Dad lifted his head from his food. “Nellie.”
“You haven’t been home in so long, and you just want to bring him sweatpants?” I gripped Dad’s phone so tightly that I was sure I could’ve made the screen crack just by sheer force. “You’ve missed birthdays, Christmases, but that’s okay because you’ll make it for graduation, and bring sweatpants.”
“If I bring him a T-shirt, will that make it better?”
Her joke boiled my blood further. “It’s not about the stupid sweatpants.
” She only saw what she wanted, because only she mattered in that little world of hers.
All the irritation that’d been building, mounting the second we’d stepped through the door, reared its head in full glory.
“It’s the fact that you can’t even guess what size he wears. You have no idea.”
“You make it sound like I’ve been gone for ages.” Worse than her snapping, Destelle’s voice almost grew gentle, like she was trying to placate a child. And even worse, in that moment with her voice at my ear, I felt like one. “It’s only been a couple of years, Nellie.”
“You came home almost three years ago for a wedding, spent the entire time with your friends, and then left again. You barely saw us at all.” And then, in a snap, I added, “Why don’t you just make it four years?”
In my mind’s eye, I could see Destelle’s face screw up, her voice coming out the way it always did when she got mad. “Jeez, is this one of those teenage rebellion things?”
I pulled the phone away from my ear and pressed the End button, hanging up.
The kitchen was deadly silent. I barely noticed it over the roar of blood rushing in my head, and the letters tapdancing to the beat. S-E-L-F-I-S-H.
Jamie gaped at me with saucer-wide eyes, taking the phone back mutely. I didn’t look at him long, not wanting to read whatever question marks were in his expression. He’d ask me where that came from, and honestly, I wasn’t even sure myself. The thought of Destelle just grated my skin.
“What makes you think you can talk to your sister like that?”
I’d gotten so used to not expecting Dad around that, in the heat of the moment, I’d forgotten him. I stilled at his low tone, lifting my head to stare at him. He wasn’t looking at me, though, focused on the plate of egg wash that his piece of bread was sitting in.
“You don’t speak to your sister like that.” Dad slowly lifted his head, his dark eyes meeting mine. “And you don’t hang up on her mid-conversation. Call her back and apologize.”
I couldn’t remember the last time Dad had given an order in any sort of parent capacity.
It’d always been Mom checking in for phone curfews, scolding for a low grade.
And Dad’s first command in months was ordering me to apologize to his golden child.
My head buzzed as if filled with bees. There were no words anymore, just letters in all caps.
I was perfect. The perfect student, the perfect daughter, the perfect friend. I should’ve complied. I should’ve jumped to obey. “You don’t even know what she said.”
“It doesn’t matter what she said. I heard what you said.”
Of course it didn’t matter. In Dad’s eyes, Destelle could do no wrong.
Her, the daughter who opposed him at every turn.
Me, the daughter who bent over backward to catch even a second of his attention.
“I don’t see how it’s any of your business if you don’t know the full conversation.
” As soon as the words were out, I wished I could pull them back in.
Jamie sucked in a breath. “Nell.”
“Eleanor Brighton.” A light seemed to flicker on in Dad’s eyes, waking up the dormant side of him. “Give me your phone. If you’re not going to call her and apologize—and if you’re going to speak to me that way—you don’t deserve to have it.”
My free hand clenched into a fist so tight I could feel my nails dig into my palm. “You always take her side,” I said in a low voice, feeling my brow crumple. “Whatever Destelle says or does is okay.”
“We’re not talking about Destelle—”
“Yes, we are!” My throat ached, voice cracking as I tried to keep from shouting.
“We are, because she gets to go off with her boyfriend and travel the country being his roadie, and you’re proud of her.
After busting my butt all of high school to get good grades, I got into Mullhound with a full ride, and I get called silly.
You wanted this dream for Destelle, but since it’s me, you call me misguided. ”
“Because it’s not your dream!” Dad slapped his palm flat down on the counter, the noise like a pop. “That’s why it’s silly—because you’re dedicating your whole life to a future that’s not even yours.”
“How would you know?” My eyes began burning, and that only made me angrier. I wasn’t sad—the tears in my eyes were embarrassing and a lie. “How would you know what I want? You’ve never asked.”
“Let’s—let’s take a break til Mom gets home.” Jamie took a step forward, his voice pitching higher. “Let’s—”
“We’re not talking about that, Eleanor.” That furious light flickered in Dad’s eyes, as if it was on its way to dim once more.
“We’re talking about your disrespectful tone.
Your mother and I have let it go on too long, letting everyone at the club talk you onto a pedestal.
I didn’t realize how inflated your ego has gotten. ”
“My ego?” I whispered, throat vibrating with the words. “What would you know about my ego?”
“I know you lied about what happened to you four years ago to feed it,” Dad said, disappointment making his own voice thick. It covered me like mud, like slime, smearing my vision further. “Is it true? That you were the one who destroyed the serenity garden?”
The air died in my lungs. I know you’re the one who lit the garden on fire, Lydia had said on the porch. Beck told me that it was you. And then I’d turned around to find Dad standing on the stairs behind me.
“Dad,” Jamie tried again, stepping toward him. “Please. Let’s just—”
“And you blamed Beck for it? All this time, you continued to let him take the blame for it. You’re more concerned with what people will think of you than with telling the truth. Here I thought we raised someone with integrity.”
A hot tear fell from my eye, leaving a trail of fire down my cheek. His words were superior and without mercy, and I thought of him standing behind me as I talked to Lydia, standing above Jamie and I when we talked the other day, eavesdropping both times.
My daughter, he must’ve thought. Embarrassing.
D-I-S-R-E-S-P-E-C-T-F-U-L.
S-I-L-L-Y.
M-I-S-G-U-I-D-E-D.
R-I-D-I-C-U-L-O-U-S.
I-M-P-E-R-F-E-C-T.
“Jamie, call Carter for your sister,” Dad said, still not looking away from me. “Tell him she won’t be joining him today.”
“I-N-T-E-G-R-I-T-Y,” I spelled for him, trembling. “You know so much about it. What did you say to Beck all those years ago, then?”
Dad’s pinched scowl froze, eyes blinking into the same expression he’d worn the other day when Beck had come over. I still remember the little speech you gave me before everything that happened.
Dad had found the chink in my armor, and I’d found his. We both struck without thinking twice.
I smacked at my cheek to wipe off a tear, furious with myself for letting it fall.
Furious with Dad for waking up just long enough to make me the bad guy.
Furious with Jamie, who just stood there with the stupid phone in his hand, as if he still expected me to reach out and pick it up.
Furious with Destelle for remembering we existed.
F-U-R-I-O-U-S.
I’d only wanted to explode like this once before.
I took my phone out of my back pocket and dropped it onto the dining room table. Then, without a word, I turned on my heel. “Nell,” Jamie said, fingertips brushing my arm. I knocked him off. “Hey. Nellie. Nell!”
“Eleanor Brighton, we are not finished!” Dad called after me, but his voice was no closer. He was still in the kitchen. It didn’t bother him enough to follow.
I couldn’t stand the idea of just stalking upstairs to sulk in my room, so instead, blindly, I shoved my feet into a random pair of shoes and hauled the front door open. Jamie’s voice was still anxious and high as he called my name. I ignored him. I ignored both of them.
And I slammed the front door shut behind me.