Mom’s hand flew to her throat. “He did what?”
“After the election party, Tucker drove me to a secluded spot, tried to get me to have sex with him, and then kicked me out of his truck when I said no.”
My parents stared at me with conflicting expressions—my mom’s horrified, my dad’s startled and unsure.
“Why didn’t you come here?” he asked.
“Because I didn’t want to,” I said, my lip quavering. “I needed to be with…my friend.”
“You could have called or answered one text.”
“I was too upset, okay? And we’re broken up now, so I don’t want to talk about Tucker ever again.”
They exchanged glances, my mother glaring at my father.
“And if I call this Harper?” he said.
“Jesus, Grayson,” Mom hissed. “Emery’s home safe now. What else matters?”
Dad seemed about to let it go; I thought I was home free…and then it was his turn to notice my outfit. “What are you wearing?”
“Harper has a brother,” I blurted stupidly, but then the hurt swooped in, giving me courage. “And is that what you care about, Dad? Tucker left me in the freezing rain after trying to…” I clenched my jaw. I would not cry. I wouldnot. “But call Harper if it’s so important. Go ahead. I’ll give you the number.”
For the first time in my life, I met my dad’s gaze head on. I felt like puking, but he didn’t need to know that.
“For God’s sake, leave her alone,” Mom whispered.
“Fine,” Dad said, after the longest moment of my life. “But we have something else to talk about, Emery. Namely, how you earned a C-minus on your calculus midterm.”
I eased a breath, loosening my clenched stomach, but anger was still boiling up in me, and there was so much more of it than I thought. Years’ worth, and it was all going to come bursting out if I wasn’t careful.
“You made me fire my tutor, remember?” I snapped. “You kicked him out of the house,remember?”
“Watch your tone, young lady,” Dad said. “He ‘tutored’ you for weeks. You should, at the very least, have a rudimentaryunderstanding of the math.”
“I told you, it doesn’t stick. It’s not what I’m good at or what I’m passionate about. I want to design—”
“Your only job is to get good grades. Your admission to Brown is riding on that. But if you’re still struggling, then you need to drop the superfluous nonsense like the prom committee.”
“No!” I cried, shocked at my own volume. “I won’t do it. I’ll drop dance, but I’m working really hard to come up with a theme for prom, and I have so many ideas—”
“Prom committee isn’t something that will impress an Ivy League school.” He reached for his phone and turned to go. He was going to walk out of the room and that would be the end of it. Frustration and anger raced through my veins, but stupid tears came to my eyes. My thoughts became a jumble, like they always did when confronting him, and I couldn’t spit them out.
“That sounds reasonable,” Mom said suddenly.
We both stopped to stare at her. She smoothed the sleeve of her silk bathrobe.
“If shemustdrop anything, she can drop dance. You may keep your prom committee commitments, Emery.”
A balloon of relief and hope expanded in my chest. “Really?”
Dad bristled. “Now, wait a minute—”
“I presume you have a budget meeting with the Board of Trustees very soon?” Mom asked me. “A sudden change of leadership on the prom committee wouldn’t sit well with them. Not to mention, it’d be quite unprofessional for a Wallace to suddenly quit.”
I nodded but didn’t dare speak.
Mom gave my dad an imperious look—identical to the one I used to wear at school—then slipped off the stool with her coffee mug.
