Yes. It could get worse.
“Do you plan on doing a lot of touring?” Andy asks. I can’t decide if he sounds hopeful or skeptical.
“We’d like to do more. I don’t want to read meters for the rest of my life.”
“So you think this is a valid career choice?” Nathan asks. “You think it’s reasonable to expect success?”
“OH MY GOD,” I say.
Nathan holds up his hands in apology, but he doesn’t say anything. Max stews silently beside me. Norah stares out the window, no doubt longing to be anywhere but here. I scrape the spinach lasagna across my plate without picking it up.
“I only mentioned the show,” Nathan says a minute later, “because it was unfortunate that it meant you had to miss our trip. We went to Muir Woods with—”
“A picnic basket!” I say.
Nathan gives me a smug expression. It was a test. He was testing me, to see if Max knew about the trip with Cricket.
“You didn’t miss anything,” I say. “Besides the food. Of course.”
Max smells the lie, though he doesn’t dare approach it in front of my parents. But I feel the wall build between us.
“Hey, I have an idea,” I say. “Let’s talk about Norah.”
“Lola,” Andy says.
She snaps her head toward me as if coming out of a trance. “What?” And then she blinks. “What are you wearing?”
“Excuse me?”
“What is that? What are you supposed to be?”
I’m in a dress with rainbow tulle poking out from underneath, and my hair is in two long braids that I’ve gelled with glitter. I glare at her. “Me. I’m me.”
Norah frowns her disapproval, and Nathan turns to her. “Enough. Back off.”
“Of course she has the right to complain about my wardrobe.” I gesture to her saggy sweater, the one she’s had forever that’s the color of oatmeal left in the sink. “She’s clearly on the cutting edge of fashion.”
Max smirks.
“O-kaaaay!” Andy jumps up. “Who wants pie?”
“Wait until you see my dress for the winter formal,” I tell Norah. “It’s big and it’s lavish and it’s beautiful, and you’re just going to love it.”
Norah jerks her face back toward the window. Like she has any right to feel hurt after attacking me. Max stiffens again, and Nathan can’t resist pouncing upon it. “What will you wear to the dance, Max?”
“He’ll wear a tux,” I snap. “I wouldn’t make him wear a matching costume.”
Max stands. “I gotta go.”
I burst into tears. Nathan looks shamed. Max takes my hand and walks me to the front door. We step outside. I don’t care that I’m grounded. “I’m s-sorry.”
This time he doesn’t tell me not to apologize. “That was messed up, Lola.”
“I know.”
“So tell me, did Nathan approve of Norah’s ‘career choice’ as a fortune-teller?”
I feel sick. “It won’t be that bad on Sunday.”