2. PARIS
PARIS
“I can’t believe you two!” my father yells from behind his desk. “I can’t tell you how disappointed I am in your behavior.”
I wince in my chair, trying to appear smaller, something that’s almost impossible when I’m already almost five foot nine. Our father is mostly a calm person, but when he loses his temper, he loses his temper . Sadly, that’s been happening more frequently, and Cory is often the target of his wrath.
“It was my idea, Dad. Just punish me,” my brother says.
I shake my head, not willing to let him take the fall alone. “I drank the wine too.”
Dad slams his open palm on the mahogany desk, shaking the two picture frames on it. “Enough! Both of you are grounded for a month. It’s school and home.”
“What about football?” I ask.
“You’re the star of the team, I’m not going to screw over Coach Smith because you acted like an idiot. You can still play, but that’s it. No going out for pizza with your teammates after a game.”
That’s going to suck, but at least I can still play.
I slouch in my chair, and reply meekly, “Okay.”
“Will that also apply to my extra-curricular activities?” Cory asks.
There’s an edge to his tone, which means I might witness another argument between him and Dad.
They’ve been at odds since he told us he wasn’t playing football in high school.
He wanted to pursue other interests. I believe Dad would have been okay with that—he isn’t a crazy sports fan—if Cory’s new interest wasn’t art.
He wants to purse painting, and according to my parents, that’s not a career.
“No. Your canvases and paint brushes will survive not being used for a month.”
“I have a field trip to New York in two weeks. It’s paid for.”
Dad leans back in his plush leather chair. “You should have thought about that before you decided to steal Father Medina’s wine.”
“That’s bullshit!” Cory jumps to his feet, almost sending his own chair tumbling back.
Dad’s spine goes taut as he points a finger at Cory. “You just earned another week of punishment.”
“Whatever.” He stalks out of the office and bangs the door shut.
I’m not sure what to do. Cory used to be the role model for the perfect son. He never raised his voice and always did what he was told. But ever since he started high school, it’s like he turned into a different person. Or a flip was switched.
Dad pinches the bride of his nose. “What’s going on with your brother, Paris?”
“I don’t know.”
He picks up a framed photo of Cory and me. “I hardly recognize my own son.”
“Maybe you could let him go to New York, I mean, since you’re letting me play—”
“No, absolutely not.” He sets the picture frame down. “He’s out of control. What I need to do is tighten the leash.”
“I think he’s just angry that you’re not being supportive of his new interests. I mean, artists can make a lot of money, and he might change his mind later.”
“That’s the problem, son. Your brother went from being an A-student to someone who doesn’t care about anything besides getting into trouble. You’d tell me if your brother was taking drugs, wouldn’t you?”
I swallow the lump in my throat. I refuse to believe Cory would be involved with drugs. “I don’t think he is, Dad. Truly.”
“It’s a good thing you’re still at All Saints. I knew we should have kept Cory in private school.”
I have no comment to that. The only private school in Littleton that goes through high school is as expensive as an Ivy League college. My parents have money, but not that kind of money.
“How long do you think Mom will stay mad at the Castros?” I ask to change the subject, and also because I want to know if it’d be safe to ask Vanessa to be my girlfriend.
She doesn’t go to All Saints, and the only chance I get to see her is at church. But if my parents aren’t on speaking terms with hers, getting her alone again will be hard. I was kicked out of the youth program—not that I cared about confirmation anyway.
Dad gives me a droll look. “Have you met your mother? The Castros will stay on her blacklist until she dies.”
Great.
“May I be excused?” I ask.
He waves his hand. “Yes. And Paris, please don’t go looking for more trouble, okay? I can’t deal with two rebel sons.”
“I won’t,” I lie.
There’s no chance I’m going to give up on Vanessa. But before I contact her, I should probably wait until the dust settles. She doesn’t have a cell phone, and she isn’t on social media. I have no choice but to wait for another opportunity to get her alone.