Between Us and the Moon - Rebecca Maizel Page 0,25

lovely,” Nancy says.

“Lovely,” Mom says, stealing a glance at Dad while taking a bite, and now we’re all talking like we’re dripping in caramel. “Scarlett, why don’t you call your friends and see what kind of theme they would like before we commit.”

“Maeve, you don’t want to take a teenager’s advice, do you?” Nancy asks. “It’s hard enough to get Scarlett to bring her friends over,” Nancy adds. She, too, takes a tiny bite. “Oh, very well, I guess you should ask your friends. If they exist,” Nancy says with a wink to Scarlett.

Scarlett never brings her friends to the house. She always meets them out. One time I heard her say to Trish that she didn’t want her Cape Cod friends to meet her “nerdy sister” and her “weird parents.” I never told Mom and Dad that.

Either way, Scarlett has to have the party and let Nancy go all out, she knows that.

“We told you, you don’t have to throw Scarlett a party,” Dad says after swallowing some chicken. He has some sauce on the corner of his mouth.

“Someone in this family needs to show Scarlett off. Juilliard! I just can’t stop telling everyone I meet!”

“We can’t afford—” Dad starts to say and wipes his mouth.

“I know you can’t afford it and if you would stop these research jobs, Gerard, and take my advice, you’ll bring in some consistent money. If you do your research on the side, or run a few labs, you might be able to pay some bills.”

There’s a pause and I hope this is a break from the money talk. We each fill our mouths with food so no one has to continue the conversation. “And now with Maeve losing . . .” Nancy stops herself and with a large exaggerated smile says, “Of course, you know I don’t have a problem paying for any of it.”

Scarlett returns the smile, but it’s fake. I hate her white teeth.

I wonder what she is really thinking. We all know, the universe knows, that Nancy loves reminding us how much she pays to keep our family afloat.

I need that scholarship.

“So, the party,” Nancy continues. “For a Great Gatsby theme we can have twenties music, champagne, silk everywhere. It’ll be lovely,” Nancy gushes.

“What’s Great Gatsby again?” Scarlett asks. “It sounds familiar.”

She just graduated from Summerhill Academy. Didn’t she read Great Gatsby sophomore year? Or at least see the movie?

“A novel,” I say.

Nancy’s eyes move down the table at me. Her pudgy face resembles a Persian cat. “Very good, Bean.”

Did she just dare to compliment me?

“But why would we have a good-bye party with that theme?” I am brave enough to ask. “Almost everyone dies at the end of that book.”

“Well, not everyone is quite so literary, dear,” Nancy replies.

Damn, I have nothing left to shove in my mouth so I can avoid this conversation. All that is left on my plate are a couple of peas. As usual I ate too fast and am finished before everyone else. “What is your focus this summer?” Nancy asks me. “No slimy algae, I see.”

“Tracking a comet—” But I don’t get to finish explaining because she turns to Mom and Dad.

“She should spend more time with kids her age.”

“Most of the kids leave after a couple weeks, or they don’t come every summer like we do,” I say. This seems perfectly reasonable to me.

“She hasn’t a single friend here,” Nancy continues like I haven’t said anything. “She’s spending far too much time with telescopes and computers. I hate to say it, Gerard, but maybe she’s spending too much time with her dad in science laboratories.”

“I have a job, Nancy,” I say as nicely as possible. “And a best friend. And a boyfriend.” I know it’s not technically true anymore, but Nancy makes me so mad and it just slips out.

“She needs to find some interests outside of science. It’s limiting for a young girl.” Nancy sighs and continues, “It’s exactly why I planned this excursion for her tonight.”

“Excursion?” What the hell does that mean?

“Bean needs to be at dances with friends and participate in school clubs. Colleges care about socialization.” She glances around my head. “What time is it?” she asks. “It’s six forty-five. Beanie, you need to get dressed for the teen dance.”

“I’m sorry—the what?” I say, leaning forward. My voice squeaks.

“Nancy thought it might be good for you to go to a teen thing,” Dad says gently. “At the pier.”

“You told her no, right? I can’t. Not—” I’m already nervous