cute and told me it was harmless, but as an elementary ed major, she spent a lot of time in schools. She probably had a whole slew of little boys with crushes on her, so Ashley’s fixation on me was nothing out of the ordinary. But for me, it was super weird.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Jake asked. He tried to save me from the awkwardness when he could.
“Nope.”
Rachel came in, followed by Emily, Jake’s youngest sister. “Actually, she does have somewhere to be because guess who let it slip that she didn’t do all the required summer reading?”
Jake shot his sister a look that would rival any pissed-off parent’s. “Are you kidding me?”
“Summer reading is stupid,” Ashley whined.
Poor kid. I agreed with her, but I wisely kept my mouth shut.
“You didn’t think it was stupid when you begged for us to put you in honors classes,” Jake said. “You knew summer reading was part of the deal.”
I scooted to the edge of the couch. “I’m gonna go.”
“You don’t have to,” Rachel said. “Stay.”
Emily tugged at Jake’s sleeve. “Look at my toes.” She shoved them under his nose and wriggled them. “The color is petunia, which doesn’t make sense because petunias can be a lot of different colors, not just pink.”
Yeah… Jake had more important things to do than entertain my bored ass. I stood. “I’ll catch you later.”
Jake apologized and told me to stay, but I waved him off. It was my dumb fault for showing up without calling first. I normally didn’t, but I was restless.
I drove through downtown on the way back to my apartment, and everything was dead. Even the biggest partiers tended to take a break the night before classes started. Of course, it would only take about a week before the downtown scene started hopping every night. The start of a new semester was kind of like New Year’s in that way—it didn’t take long for good intentions to wear off.
As soon I as parked in front of my townhouse, the phone rang. It was Stacey, my mother’s assistant.
“Hi, Stacey,” I answered. I talked more to her than I ever talked to my mother. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gotten a direct call from my mom. Everything went through Stacey first. “How’s your ankle?”
“Much better since I started the physical therapy. Thanks. I’m calling about Chelsea’s engagement party.”
My brow furrowed. “What?” Chelsea was my older sister and in her last year at Harvard Law. I had no idea she even had a boyfriend.
“As of last week, she’s engaged to John Henneman.”
“Why does that name sound familiar?” I muttered.
“Chelsea’s fiancé is actually John Henneman III. His father is John Henneman Jr., the senator from Rhode Island.”
“Right,” I said slowly. Everything made much more sense now. My mother was a state senator for Maryland and had her eye on the governor’s office. She must be doing backflips about her daughter being engaged to the heir of the Henneman political dynasty.
Stacey continued. “So anyway, your parents are throwing an engagement party the first weekend in November.”
Of course they were, because that was the weekend of the VVU football team’s family-appreciation game. And to think I’d actually invited them this year since it was my senior year. I supposed this phone call served as the RSVP that they wouldn’t be in attendance.
I ran a hand through my hair and fisted the strands. “Thanks for letting me know, I guess, but you know I can’t go.”
Stacey sighed. “I figured as much. Your mother is not going to be happy.”
“Does she seriously expect me to blow off a game for an engagement party?” I was blaming the messenger, but it was difficult to stay neutral when this happy horseshit was being shoveled in my direction. If Chelsea were engaged to John Nobody from down the street, my mother wouldn’t give a damn. Instead, she was using it to further her political career. I wondered what Chelsea thought about the whole thing. She and I weren’t close, but we got along well enough at family events, which was the only time we saw each other.
Stacey stayed silent, which was an answer in and of itself. Un-fucking-believable. My parents hadn’t supported my playing football because it was a “common thug’s game.” When I’d earned a starting position at VVU, then it had become a little more respectable because it gave them bragging rights, though they would rather I was rubbing elbows with American royalty at an Ivy League school.