Chapter 19 Damon
DAMON
“Did you finish that paper for Risk Management?” West asks as he flips through the pages of his finance textbook.
“Which one?” I ask, not looking up from the class notes I’m reviewing.
“The one that’s due on Monday.”
I lift my eyes and find him giving me his trademark puppy-dog eyes.
“You mean the one that’s worth thirty percent of our final grade and was assigned to us in the first week of class?” I ask dryly.
“Yeah, that one.”
“Yeah, why?” I ask, even though I already know what he’s going to say.
West and I haven’t had many classes together because I’m a year ahead of him, but him procrastinating until the last minute and wanting to look at my notes or assignments for “inspiration,” as he calls it, is nothing new.
“Can I maybe take a look at it?” he asks. “Pretty please.” He makes praying hands and widens his eyes, really selling the innocent, kicked-puppy look he’s so good at.
Considering West is six feet tall and built like an elite athlete with sculpted arms, broad shoulders, a washboard stomach, and thick thighs, his innocent faces should make him look ridiculous, but somehow they work for him.
Part of that is because of the golden retriever energy he has going on, plus his blond hair and light coloring do kind of give him an angelic, even cherubic, look thanks to his baby face and big blue eyes.
“Yeah, that doesn’t work on me,” I tell him, looking back down at my notes.
“Please,” he says, all traces of his light and teasing tone gone.
I look up at him again, and the seriousness in his expression makes me pause.
“How much have you done so far?” I ask.
“My notes, and I sort of have an outline.” He glances away for a few beats. “I can’t afford to get less than a B on this paper. Not without it dropping my grade, and my dad will kill me if I don’t do well in this class.”
“Do you have a flash drive with you?” I ask. “I can give you my paper, and all my prep notes, but just be careful you don’t get too ‘inspired’”—I make air quotes–“by it. I will murder you myself if I get flagged for plagiarism because you played chicken with your deadlines.”
“Thank you!” He pats his pockets like he’s looking for a drive. “You’re the best best friend anyone could ever ask for.”
“Yeah, save that crap for your admirers.” I watch as he lifts his textbook like he’ll magically find a flash drive under it. “You can pay me back in coffee and drinks at The Stacks until I graduate.”
“Deal.” He shoots me a sheepish smile. “Do you have a flash drive I can borrow?”
Rolling my eyes in the most exaggerated way I can, I point at my desk. “Top drawer. Grab one of the ones with the blue push thing.”
West rolls off my bed and darts over toward my desk. Just as he reaches it, my phone lights up on the bed beside me with a video call.
“Is it okay if I grab this?” I ask, picking up my phone. “It’s Izzy.”
“Yeah, of course,” he says as he digs around in my drawer. “You said the blue push thing, right?”
“Yeah,” I tell him, already swiping to answer my sister’s call. “Hey,” I say when she appears on my screen. “What’s up?”
“I hate everyone,” she huffs out. “Well, except you. Everyone else sucks.”
“What about me?” West calls as he closes the drawer of my desk. “Do you hate your favorite uncle?”
“Is that West?” Izzy asks, her eyes lighting up and her grumpy expression melting into a big smile.
I flip the camera around so she can see him as he walks back over to the bed. “Yup.”
My sisters adore West, and he’s as protective of them as I am.
“Hi, West!” she says, waving enthusiastically, even though he can’t see her.
“Hi, Izzy.” He flops down on my bed, and my textbook and papers bounce from the impact. “So, do you hate your favorite uncle, or am I safe?”
She giggles. “You’re safe, silly.”
“Phew.” He makes a big show of wiping his brow in relief. “I was worried for a second there. Is it okay if I sit here and look over some of my homework while you talk to your brother? Or is this a private conversation?”
“You can stay,” she says quickly. “That’s fine.”
He beams a big smile at her, and she giggles.
It’s kind of funny that West looks more like my sisters than I do. And the few times he’s come home with me during holidays or for visits and we’ve taken my sisters somewhere, people assume he’s their brother, or even their father, and I’m just a family friend, or West’s partner.
It doesn’t bother me. I’m used to feeling like an outsider in my family. And West thinks it’s hilarious, so messing with people is always fun.
I flip the camera back around so it’s facing me. “What’s going on?” I ask again.
She heaves a big, dramatic sigh and pushes a long lock of wheat-blond hair back from where it’s fallen over her shoulder. “Michael is so annoying.”
I give her a sympathetic look. “What happened this time?”
She rolls her eyes and leans back against her headboard, the camera shaking violently as she settles. “He’s trying to convince Mom to make us go to Hendrix.”
“Hendrix?” I ask. “Like Hendrix Academy?”
West looks up from his laptop, his eyes wide, but doesn’t say anything.
She nods, her expression shifting from annoyed to miserable. “Soph and me told Mom we don’t want to go there, but she won’t listen and keeps saying that Michael thinks it’s the best choice for us and blah blah blah.” She rolls her eyes again.
Hendrix Academy is an all-girls boarding school that has a reputation for being incredibly strict and isolating the students from any male influence.
At least males their age. The staff is full of men, and the board of directors is mostly men, but they have strict rules about males under eighteen not being allowed on campus for any reason if they’re not related to a student, and even then, they can only visit the campus during scheduled family visitation times.
They’re also known for teaching purity culture like it’s going out of style.
A lot of the girls who live in Belmont House here at Silvercrest came from Hendrix Academy, and some of the stories I’ve heard about how these girls are basically told that their virginity is sacred and anyone who even thinks about a man who isn’t their husband is ruining their chances at future happiness because no man will ever want them if they’re “used.”
Of course, that kind of teaching does one of two things: it either warps their perception of what is and isn’t okay in a relationship and creates a breeding ground for them to be taken advantage of when they leave the halls of Hendrix and go to co-ed colleges.
Or it makes them rebel and seek out all the things they were told are wrong, and also makes them ripe for being taken advantage of when they go to college and are around males their own age for the first time.
The other thing about Hendrix is that it’s a grade six to twelve school, where most boarding schools start at grade nine.
That means all three of my sisters could be sent there next year, even though Sophia is only going into grade eight, and Izzy and Olivia are going into grades seven and six, respectively.
There’s no way in hell my sisters are going to Hendrix, especially not when they’re this young, but instead of jumping in and trying to fix things for her, I keep quiet so she can keep ranting if she needs to.
“I hate Michael,” she grumbles. “I hate that he’s always telling Mom what to do, and he pretends like he cares about us, but he just wants to send us away.
I should tell Dad about him.” She makes a face like she just found dog shit in her hairbrush.
“But then Mom would get in trouble, and I don’t want her to get sent away.
I can’t live here if she’s not here. I can’t. ”
“I know, sweetie,” I say soothingly. “And you’re right, none of this is fair.”
“It’s not,” she agrees, her lip coming out in a pout. “I wish school was over and you already lived here again.”
“Me too,” I say. “But I’ll be home for good in a few months.”
“I know,” she says on a soft sigh. “It’s not fair that he’s trying to send us away just when you’re coming home. I don’t want to leave.”
“You won’t,” I assure her. “I promise none of you are going to Hendrix. Not next year, not ever.”
“But if Mom says we have to go, then what can you do? And it’s not like Dad cares if we get sent away or not, so he won’t help us. All he cares about is his dumb job, and it’s not like he’s ever home or bothers to pay attention to us when he is.”
“I’ll talk to your mom the next time I’m home,” I tell her.
“Really?” she asks hopefully.
“Yes. And I’ll talk to Michael too.”
“And you think you can make her change her mind?”
“I think so,” I say. “And if I can’t, then I’ll keep trying until I do.”
She gives me a wobbly smile. “Thanks, Damon. I’m really glad you’re my brother.”
“I’m really glad you’re my sister too,” I tell her, my chest warming at her genuine happiness. “I love you.”
“I love you too. And I love you too, Uncle West!” she shouts, like he’s across the room and not sitting three feet away from me.
He holds out his hand. “Give me the phone.” I pass it to him, and he holds it up so she can see him. “Love you too, kiddo. Are you feeling better?”
She must nod, because his smile softens. “That’s good. Now, can you give me a big smile?” He pauses. “Awesome. Do you want to talk to your brother some more?”
“No, I’m good now,” she says. “Bye, Damon!” she shouts through the phone.
West taps the screen, presumably to turn the camera around, and I wave. “Bye, Izzy.”
“Bye. And bye, Uncle West.”
He taps the screen again and waves. “Bye.”
“I take it Kaitlyn is still seeing that asshole?” he asks, all traces of his smile gone as he hands me back my phone.
I nod and toss it on the bed.
“It’s so weird that your stepmom has a boyfriend,” he muses. “And it’s not even this big, hidden secret, but your father still doesn’t know what’s going on.”
“Like Izzy said, he’d have to actually be home and pay attention to anything outside his work in order to know what’s happening right under his nose.
Besides, I’m positive he’s stuck his dick in plenty of people he shouldn’t have since he and Kait got together, so it’s not like she’s doing anything he hasn’t. ”
“True. But it’s still weird. My family is so boring compared to yours.”
“Boring, or normal?” I ask with a wry grin.
“Both. We’re way more normal than yours, but not that normal.” He taps his fingers on the cover of his textbook. “I thought Kait broke up with Michael after Thanksgiving?”
“She did, but they got back together just before Christmas.”
He winces. “You told me that, didn’t you? And you also told me that’s one of the reasons you came back to school early, because she was taking him with her and the kids to see her family and you didn’t want to be stuck in the house with your father.”
“Yes and yes.”
“Sorry.” He shoots me an apologetic look. “I swear I was listening. I’ve just got a lot going on and forgot for a second.”
“It’s fine,” I tell him. “I know how your brain works.”
“Thank fuck,” he says with a grin. “Because most days I have no clue what’s going on up there.”
“Flash drive?” I ask, holding out my hand for it.
West gives it to me, and I quickly stick it in the side of my laptop and transfer the files with my notes and my paper over to it. When that’s done, I eject it and toss it to him.
He catches it and tucks it away in his pocket. “Thanks for bailing me out. Again.”
“It’s fine. Just remember what I said. I will murder you if you get my ass in trouble for plagiarism.” I give him a pointed look. “And I only have two friends, so I really can’t afford to be killing one of them off.”
He grins. “Deal.”
“What did you want to do tonight?” I ask. “Still thinking of hitting that party at McLellan House?”
His smile drops off his face.
“What?” I ask, already dreading whatever he’s about to say.
“I kinda told McKenna we’d hang out tonight,” he says sheepishly.
“She’s been really stressed out with school and wedding planning, and she said she needs a night in to relax and asked if she could come over.
” He gives me a pleading look. “I’m sorry.
I totally forgot about the party and our plans to make plans when I was talking to her, then it was too late to take it back, and I’m the worst friend ever. ”
“You’re not,” I say, my voice tight. “But it would be nice if you could at least remember to tell me when you cancel our plans. And it would be nice if we could actually hang out and not just spend a few hours studying every few weeks.”
He winces again. “I know, and I really am sorry. I’m just… You know how she gets.”
“Yeah. I do.” Picking up my pen, I spin it around my fingers a few times. “But whatever. It’s fine.”
“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
I nod, but this isn’t the first time he’s said that recently, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.