The Envy of Idols (Rich Boys of Burberry Prep #3) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,22
the little dip in the center, same small button nose. Dad always says his features look better on me than they ever did on him, but I still think he’s a pretty handsome guy. “If I get a boyfriend, you’ll be the first to know.”
I salute him, and he grimaces, but at least he’s smiling, too. I have noticed in the last few weeks that he’s started to look thinner, and his hair’s started falling out. Fucking chemo. Both a blessing and a curse. Our old neighbor from the trailer park, Mrs. Fleming, is not only the world’s best texter over the age of ninety, but she also grows her own marijuana with the help of her adult grandsons. She’s beaten cancer four times in her life, and swears that cannabis is responsible for it. She brings dads joints, edibles, and other things and, to make up for her deafness, shouts really loudly about him taking his medicine.
Maybe it’ll help, maybe not, but at least the medical center has been taking excellent care of Charlie. I woke up one night in a cold sweat, panicking about it, certain that Harper was going to poison my father somehow, but Zack talked me down.
Infinity Club rules are ironclad. Harper would never hurt Charlie because it would mean the end of her—financially, socially, and in business. The other Club members take bets very seriously. And by other members, I don’t mean the junior sect.
Exhaling sharply, I pop the top on my soda and down it. I’m trying to get Dad to quit sugar with me, but he says he can only tackle one vice at a time, so for now we’re both still sweet-tooth junkies.
On the way home, Charlie suddenly reaches to turn off the radio—even though his favorite song in the whole world, Every Little Thing She Does is Magic by the Police is on—and then sits back heavily in his chair, hands white-knuckled on the wheel. My first thought is that there’s something going on with his health, and I start to panic.
“What?” My voice is shrill and high and foreign, a whole host of nightmares coming to life inside my head. “Dad, please.” My voice cracks, and Charlie reaches out to take my hand.
“Marnye-bear, it’s okay, it’s okay.” He smiles as my heart races and I narrow my eyes. “This is about your birthday, that’s all.” I exhale sharply and lean back into my seat, pushing some of the yellow batting that’s leaking out of the headrest away from my face. “Your friends asked my permission to organize a surprise party.”
“A surprise party … that you’re telling me about?” I query, glancing at my phone and finding messages from most of my new ‘friends’. The new Bluebloods. A surge of energy goes through me, and I lick my lips. Me, a Blueblood? An Idol? Surely, Tristan was joking. And anyway, I could never be so cruel. I’d never fit in.
“Well, I wanted to make sure you were okay with it,” Dad continues as we pull into the driveway of our new house. It’s disconcerting sometimes, not going back to the Train Car. I have so many fond memories of that place. Bad ones, too. I’ll miss it, but I’m okay with the change in scenery. “Those boys, if they’re bullying you again …”
“They’re not,” I say, and the words come out strong, sure, confident. I wait until Dad’s parked the truck and shut off the engine before I reach out and take his hand. “And I’ll never put you through what I did before.”
Red ribbons, water turning pink, my back sliding down the wall of the shower.
Exhale, Marnye, exhale.
“If there’s something you need to tell me,” Dad starts, his cheeks reddening slightly, “even if it’s about sex or anything like that, I’m here. There’s nothing you could do that would change my love for you, Marnye. If you come to me with questions, I promise I won’t be mad.”
My serious expression morphs into a grin, and I lean forward to throw my arms around his neck in a very Miranda-esque sort of hug. When I sit back, Dad’s smiling, too.
“Okay. If I have any questions, I’ll ask Google first, but keep you in mind for a close second.” Dad laughs, but the sound is half mirth and half relief. Good. “And yes to the party. Actually, I’m excited for it.”
I don’t say it aloud, but … it’s been years since I’ve had a birthday with anyone but me and Dad.