Chapter 29
Maple
‘Shit, Dylan,’ I say, wiping my eyes, hoping the cold air has taken the red blotches out of my skin.
‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘I couldn’t sleep, and I saw you through the window. Mind if I join you?’
‘Um, I guess.’ I watch him walk over to the lounger next to mine and drop down. I can’t help noticing that it’s exactly how we were sitting earlier, when Mom took that video. My heart starts to thud at the memory. FIRST KISS!!
‘You’re pissed off with your mom, huh,’ he murmurs, looking out at the pool. ‘Guess I can’t blame you for that.’
I nod, drag my bottom lip with my teeth. ‘Did you …’
‘Yeah, I saw it,’ he interrupts. ‘Couldn’t avoid it really; your mom tagged me.’ He shrugs. ‘Well, actually you tagged me, your account, but I figured your mom was behind it.’
‘On YouTube?’ I whisper.
‘On everything.’
‘Oh God, I’m so sorry.’
‘It’s not your fault.’
‘But she’s my mom – it happened at our home. You must hate us.’
‘I don’t know,’ he murmurs. ‘I have pretty low expectations as far as parents go.’
I think about how Mom came across Dylan via the influencer school his mom’s set up, the one I’m supposed to be starting at in August, something else she didn’t bother to discuss with me. ‘Is your mom as obsessed with clicks as mine?’
He sighs, half smiles. ‘Nah, she barely understands social media. But she pretty much does what my dad says. I’m sure she’d prefer to still be teaching elementary school if he’d let her, but Dad decided a senior school for kidfluencers has better earning potential.’
‘And your dad always gets what he wants?’ I ask.
‘Our family is traditional that way.’
‘Skateboarding sensation on TikTok doesn’t sound that traditional.’
Dylan laughs, which makes me feel a tiny bit better.
But the sound quickly fades. ‘Providing for your family is the traditional part,’ he goes on.
‘Dad works in real estate, but the money’s up and down.
He heard through church how much influencers can earn and figured we should start monetizing my skateboarding. ’
‘At least you’ve got an actual skill to earn from,’ I mutter. ‘And my friend Coco’s channel is about trying to uncover a real-life killer. While I just make lame “get ready with me” reels and do stupid pranks.’
‘I’m not that good a skateboarder,’ Dylan counters. ‘Yeah, I can do some tricks, but so can lots of riders. They just don’t make a big thing of it on social media.’
‘Well, you look pretty good to me.’ I cringe as I realize how that sounds, then quickly start talking again. ‘And I guess sponsorship must bring lots of opportunities.’
‘Yeah, but not the ones I want.’
‘How’s that?’ I ask, genuinely curious.
‘Sponsors want me to win skateboarding comps. Brands want me to wear their clothes, or eat their snacks, or drink their rancid protein shakes. Everyone wants to throw money at me, so Dad’s happy. But it’s not my dream.’
‘So what is?’
He hesitates, like he’s not sure whether to trust me. I can’t blame him for that, I suppose. I do share DNA with my mom. ‘Can you keep this between us?’ he eventually asks.
‘One hundred percent.’
‘Okay so my dream is to go to Columbia University to study law. I want to be a human rights lawyer.’
‘Wow.’ So he’s hot, sporty and clever. ‘That’s really cool.’
He sighs. ‘Maybe, but I doubt it will happen. My mom’s knowledge of the senior school curriculum is pretty sketchy.
I’m trying to do stuff myself – there’s resources online, that’s what I was listening to when you asked earlier; dull, hey?
– but it’s hard to find the time with all the filming Dad makes me do. ’
‘Can’t you just tell him that? That you’ve got other, worthier, aspirations? I mean, a human rights lawyer?’
‘He tells me to be grateful for what I’ve got,’ Dylan says, shrugging like it’s not a big deal, but also looking away, like it is. ‘That we need the money now, and being a lawyer takes too long, end of discussion. But I’ve got a few years to figure it out; I’m not giving up yet.’
‘It’s funny,’ I murmur. ‘I never think about dads being pushy too.’
‘So yours isn’t?’
‘God, no. He’s not a fan of social media, period. But he doesn’t dare cross Mom.’
Dylan looks thoughtful. ‘You’re his little girl though, aren’t you? And your mom’s latest post, I dunno, it’s pretty suggestive, isn’t it? Everyone’s got a breaking point; maybe this will turn out to be your dad’s.’
I lie back, absorb Dylan’s words, and wonder if he’s right. If Dad might finally decide to fight for me. Or if he’ll even bother to watch it.