Pa cut his eyes over to me, jerked his head to the side. “Stay out of it, Sunshine.”
I would have felt better if someone had cold slapped me across my face. “But—” I protested.
“That’s part of the business, too. Meeting people, getting clients, building trust—”
Luke’s eyes shifted between the two of us. He shrugged at me, as if to say,It’s no big deal; let it go.
So I did.
“I wanna come—” Julia blurted.
“No,” Pa said, dragging his cotton napkin over his lips, “you are to stay here with Molly. I don’t need any distractions.”
“But…” Her voice cracked, and I thought she might break out into tears. “Why can’tJanestay home this time?”
Tension thickened across the table. It was on.
Pa couldn’t say,Because your sister is much more charming.So he fumbled, twisted his napkin in his lap.
“You know your sister is the face of our operation. You know she can work a room. This is too important! This could land us our biggest client!”
Julia pushed her chair back with such force, it sounded like she scratched the wooden floorboards. She stood and slid it back under the table so violently, the dishes clattered.
Behind her, the back door slammed.
If she were kinder to me, I’d chase her, try to make nice.
Instead, a sly grin crept across my face.
At least I wouldn’t have to deal with her prying little eyes at the party.
45
Nellie
Pine needles crunch under my Keds, looking like tinsel scattered across the ground.
The party is in less than an hour, and I’m racing around, getting things ready. I’ve picked this particular spot behind the garage, on the far side of our property, because the woods here are thickest.
It’s the perfect place to make out, stash beer. Of course, I’ve been here before with Dustin, but now I’m anxious to bring Luke out here. Away from everyone. I tuck a picnic blanket behind a wide tree trunk, wedging in a six-pack beneath it.
Shivers run all over me as I think about getting Luke all to myself.
Mom said I was allowed to have him up in my room, but I don’t trust her not to spy, not to snoop. Plus, my room is so frilly with my Madonna posters and my flowery wallpaper, I’d honestly be embarrassed for him to see it. He’d think I was a teenybopper loser.
It’s steaming today; I just got out of the shower, and my hair was still wet when I walked out here, but it’s already dried, the sun blazing through the trees, mosquitoes nipping at my skin.
I look back at our house, our mansion, try to imagine it through Luke’s eyes. Will he be impressed, like Mom thinks he will? The only reason she talked me into doing this bash was saying she thought it’d be smart to get Luke on our own turf, to let him see what we’re all about. And the opportunity to see him again so soon—not at the swimming hole or at the Circles with those losers—was, well, I mean…
But now I’m all twisting myself into knots, thinking about his reaction. Will he just stick me in the rich-bitch category? Not that that seems to bother him as far as Blair is concerned. Will all this nauseate him? Or will he think it’s cool? Like maybe Dad’s toys—his four-wheeler, his golf cart, his rifle collection, his archery target, all just a few steps from where I am right now.
The house looks like it’s dressed up for a wedding: the valets out front in black tuxes, red, white, and blue ribbons tied from our long white columns, the fountain out front bubbling with water. A giddy feeling comes over me—it kinda is like a wedding in a way: mine.
46
Jackson
The setting sun streaks the sky, leaving fiery-orange claw marks across a navy-blue backdrop.
