Chapter Sixteen #2
I give each and every one death glares. I wish I could do something.
But what? Get violent? Show them what happens when they speak ill of my dad?
Of course I can’t do that. You can imagine the media having a field day with Beatrice Harrington’s son causing a scene and harming the other kids.
It’ll ruin Mom and ruin me. As much as I don’t like my mom, I would never do that to her.
The guys look like they’re searching for a fight. They want to rile me up so I’ll end up on the news. I won’t give them the satisfaction.
Turning on my heels, I stalk away from them, pass Mom who is busy laughing with her friends and doesn’t notice me, and find a room to the side devoid of people.
This looks like a lounge area for people who need to get away.
I plop down on one of the couches and whip out my phone from my pocket.
I’m about to open my app to continue drawing the cartoon I’m working on, but my finger hovers over the button to text Sophie.
We exchanged numbers earlier this week and have texted a little. Well, she texted me homework mostly.
Damian: I’m in hell right now.
She responds within seconds:
Sophie: Are you okay? Where are you?
Damian: Hell.
Sophie: ???
Damian: At a charity event hosted by my dear mother
Sophie: Oh. Is it not fun?
Damian: Have you ever been to one?
Sophie: No, mere mortals like me are not allowed at such events.
Damian: Lucky.
Sophie: Is the food good at least?
Damian: Don’t know. Haven’t tried any and dinner won’t start for a while.
Sophie: That’s too bad.
Damian: How’s boyfriend shopping going?
Sophie: A bust. Operation Find Me Real Romance is not going well.
Damian: Nice name.
Sophie: You think?
Damian: A bit long, but cool
Sophie: Right, so no luck. But I’m not giving up. It’s only been like two days.
Damian: Hmmm. Are you trying hard enough?
Sophie: Yes, sir. I’m not the type of person to sabotage a deal.
Damian: No, I know that. Besides, you’ll find a real boyfriend soon and you won’t even remember that fake one’s name.
Sophie: Gasp! No man will ever come close to William King.
My lips kick up in a smile. Texting with her makes me feel a thousand times better. For a second, I forgot where I am and what those kids said about me and my dad.
Damian: We’ll see.
Sophie: I guess we will.
She adds a triumphant emoji.
Again, I smile.
Sophie: So if you’re there, how are you texting me? I mean, don’t you have people you need to talk to?
Damian: Already did and they suck. I found a room where I can be alone.
Sophie: Oh, that’s good.
Damian: Thanks for responding to my texts. I wasn’t sure if texting my tutor was okay.
Sophie: Why wouldn’t it be okay?
Damian: Don’t know. Maybe because it’s not school-related and we aren’t…
Sophie: You mean friends?
Damian: Yeah.
Sophie: Well, I mean we could be…if you want.
I stare off in the distance. I don’t have a single friend at Harrington Bay Academy. I told myself before I came here that I wouldn’t get close to anyone. But Sophie isn’t just anyone. She’s nice and sweet and fun. And she cares, not only about my schoolwork, but about my happiness.
Damian: I’m fine with that if you are.
Sophie: Okay, sure. Friend.
Damian: Friend.
Her next text comes, but I don’t have a chance to read it because the door opens and a server sticks his head in.
“Are you Damian Harrington?”
“Yeah.”
“Your mother is asking for you to return to the ballroom. We’re ready to serve dinner and there will be speeches as well.”
I so wish I could bail, but I can’t. I tell him I’ll be there shortly, but he doesn’t move. “She made it clear that I’m to escort you to your table.”
I shut my eyes to regulate my breathing. Then I stand and follow him out of the room and to the ballroom, where mostly everyone is seated at tables.
Mom’s with her friends at the head table. She gives me a look, telling me she’s not happy with my behavior. I turn away from her.
Of course I’m not going to be joining her at the head table. She placed me with the snobby kids who can’t seem to stop making jabs at my dad.
There is only one empty seat at the table, and the server motions for me to occupy it. I sense the other kids giving me dirty looks, but I don’t glance in their direction.
“Do you need anything, Mr. Harrington?” the waiter asks. “A special request for a beverage, perhaps?”
“I’ll take Coke, thanks.”
He shifts from one foot to the other. Do they not have Coke here? Last I checked, rich people drink soda. “Perhaps something else?”
A few girls cover their mouths to hide giggles.
“Whatever you give me is fine, thanks.”
He nods and returns a short while later with sparkling water. I busy myself drinking so I won’t have to interact with the kids.
I keep my phone on my lap and read Sophie’s last text. So, friend, are you feeling a little better?
I stuff the phone in my pocket, wishing I could respond. The last thing I need are these kids finding out I have a tutor.
They talk amongst themselves, and every so often they comment about the filth at their table or the “fake”. I ignore them, focusing on the food instead. It’s all delicious, but I don’t really feel anything as I eat.
Mom and a few others make speeches. They’re about my grandma and what an amazing person she was.
I smile despite my bad mood. Hearing all her accomplishments makes me proud to be her grandson.
I wonder if she’s here with us in spirit.
I wonder if she’s watching over me. I wonder if my dad is here as well.
The second course is brought in and it’s as delicious as the previous course. My mood is a little better and I enjoy it somewhat.
A few girls make remarks that some people don’t deserve to be at this table.
Obviously they’re talking about me, but I pretend they don’t exist. Instead, I think about Sophie and what she’s doing.
Probably reading. Maybe about William King again.
I wonder about this guy. What makes him the perfect specimen of male in her eyes?
Why doesn’t she think anyone in real life could come close to him?
After the courses are done, it’s time for dancing. Men and women, boys and girls, grab partners and make their way to the dance floor. Luckily, my table empties as all the kids find partners to spin around on the dance floor with.
Mom doesn’t dance with anyone. A few guys ask her, but she holds up her hand, politely declining.
I never really thought about why Mom never remarried.
I know Dad didn’t because he was still in love with her, but why didn’t she?
It can’t be because she still loved Dad—that much is obvious.
Maybe she figured she’d rather be married to the school and the Harrington Empire.
As I watch the dancing couples, a feeling enters me, something I’ve never felt before.
What would it feel like to hold a girl in my arms the same way these guys do?
While I’ve had girlfriends before, I never slow danced with one.
My friends and I went to parties and such, but we always danced as a group.
For some reason, Sophie enters my head. My thoughts wander to what it would be like if she were in my arms. I quickly stop them. I have no idea what that was about.
I take out my phone to respond to her text.
Damian: Not really, but it’s almost over, so there’s that.
Sophie: That’s good.
Damian: Am I bothering you from reading?
Sophie: No, I’m a pro at multitasking.
Damian: Right. You mentioned that.
She informs me that she’s not reading about William King, but another book, and tells me the overall plot.
Damian: Is the love interest better than real life, too?
Sophie: Duh. Like I said, all guys are.
Laughing lightly, I shake my head. I know she’ll find someone in real life who’s better than those fake guys. Hopefully, it won’t take too long.
The guests continue to dance, but as the night drags on, many start to leave. Because my mom is the host, we need to pretty much stay until the end. I stop texting Sophie because I don’t want to take her away from her book.
I busy myself with my phone until Mom decides it’s time for us to go home. She calls for Chandler, who’s in the area, and he opens the door for us.
“Did you have a good time, Ms.?” he asks after we climb in.
“Yes, thank you.”
The car is quiet as we drive home. I know Mom isn’t thrilled with my behavior tonight, but she doesn’t say anything. It’s not until we walk through our apartment door and I loosen my tie that she places her hand on her hips.
“You didn’t make an effort to be friendly with your peers. Do you not understand that these are alliances you need to form for your future and the future of the Harrington Empire?”
I grit my teeth. “I told you I’m not taking over the empire.” Twisting around, I march toward my room.
“That’s a conversation for another day,” she calls after me.
“No, it’s not,” I call back before shutting the door behind me.
I change into pajamas and climb into bed with my sketchpad, trying not to think of tonight and Mom, but about texting with Sophie instead.