“She emails and texts and on holidays she’ll call so we can video chat.” The latter usually ends with both her and Dad putting on these fake-ass smiles and talking all polite like I don’t know they’d rather pretend the other doesn’t exist.
“Don’t you want to talk to her more than that?”
I’m taken aback by the question and the answer is more complicated than I want to admit, so I nod.
“You could call her.”
“What?”
“You said she emails and texts and calls. Why don’t you try reaching out to her?” Lacey asks.
It’s such a simple suggestion I’m embarrassed it hadn’t really occurred to me. Or maybe it did, but it’s always felt like my mom should be the one to initiate it.
“What about your dad?” I ask, hoping to turn the focus off me.
“What about him?” A smile stretches across her face and I get the sense right away that she has a much different relationship with her dad than I do.
“What’s he like? Do you get along?” I only know the little tidbits she’s dropped over the years. He does some sort of research, is a little scattered, works a lot.
“Yeah, we get along great. He works long hours, but he’s really smart, and he loves his job.” She shrugs like itdoesn’t bother her. Maybe it doesn’t. I can’t tell. Lacey is such an optimist. I’m not sure even she knows when she’s disappointed.
“What would he do if you failed a test?” I ask.
“Assuming I told him, I guess he’d remind me that school is important and tell me I can do anything I want if I put my mind to it.”
My brows rise. The thought of her keeping something from her dad feels so opposite of everything else I know about her. “And if you didn’t tell him?”
“Let’s just say the last time he looked at a report card I think I was in fourth or fifth grade.”
“What’s the point of getting good grades then?” I’m only half joking. If it weren’t for the GPA rule to play athletics at Frost Lake, I wouldn’t care if I passed or failed.
She laughs, the sound warm and a little teasing. “I want to go to Stanford. And even with my grades, that’s going to be a long shot.”
“Why there?”
“It’s the best college in the country.”
“That’s it?”
She considers me for a moment while she takes another drink of her shake. “What do you want to do after high school?”
“Play soccer.”
“Where?”
“Whichever team wants me.”
She rolls her eyes. “Okay, well, pretend you could have your pick. Which one then?”
“Arsenal.” Just like my dad. But not because of him.
“Why?”
“They’re the best.”
Her eyes light up, and she tips her head. “That’s why I want to go to a top-rated college.”
I smile, nodding my understanding. “Another thing we have in common, I guess.”
