“Jesus, Ashton. I thought Laandia was a quiet place, and here you both are making trouble. Are the police involved?”
“They talked to me this morning. I didn’t do anything wrong—”
“Sounds like you’re the only one to see it that way.”
“Yeah. Maybe. I apologized to Duncan—”
“You admitted you were at fault? Ashton, what have I told you?”
“Deny unless proven guilty. It’s only because I know Sophie. We’re sort of… kind of… friends.”
Is that the truth? Am I friends with Sophie Laz?
I think she’s cute, but too quiet. She smilesall the time. At everyone.
Including me.
I’ve talked to her a few times, but I don’t really know her. Friends might be a stretch.
I did dance with her when she visited the set of The Suitorette. That was the day before I got sent home, so maybe she’s bad luck for me.
I’d say she’s bad luck.
“You know her,” Dad says as I’m trying to convince myself Sophie and I are merely acquaintances. “That’s the only good thing about this mess. You need to make sure she doesn’t charge you. Or sue you. I don’t know the law in Laandia, but it is entirely possible. And we donotneed another lawsuit, Ashton.”
I picked up on the note of warning in his voice. A person hard-of-hearing could pick it up. “How do I do that?” I askcautiously.
“She’s a friend of yours. Use that. Convince her.” His words are clipped and confident. I wish I felt like that. “Make her fall for you if you have to.”
Did my father just tell me to— “What? No.”
“Is that not possible?” His patronizing tone sounds familiar. As in, I think I use the same tone at times.
“Well, yeah. Sure… I can…”
“That’s it then,” Dad says. “Make her fall in love with you to ensure she won’t charge you with reckless driving. Because I don’t have to tell you what that will do to your career, Ashton.”
And then he hangs up.
7
Sophie
Myfatherinsistsonmy moving into the castle so he can oversee my recovery. He took it personally that I didn’t call him last night when I was brought in.
I tell him I won’t need much of a recovery. The doctors tell me it’s lucky I don’t need surgery, even though I can’t possibly imagine how toes would be so damaged as to require surgery. Three of my toes are taped together and they gave me the ugliest shoe/sandal/foot box to wear. The sole is like a wooden plank. and Velco straps, reminiscent of what a young child or a very old person might wear, criss-cross my foot.
It’s basically a strappy box for my foot.
I’ve never been all that fashionable, but I left whatever style I did have back on Second Street.
Along with the ugly box protecting my foot, I’ve got a shiny new pair of crutches to support myself. I tried them out this morning; I need practice, but I have no doubt I could manage on my own… if it weren’t for the stairs I’d have to climb to get into my apartment.
Or Mom’s house.
Not that I have any desire to return to my childhood home to allow my mother to look after me.
“She isnotstaying at the castle,” Mom snaps.
