“Maybe,” she says. “But that’s all the more reason why I feel the need to make up for lost time and teach you how to do things that were always done for you.”
Maybe I should be grateful that she’s trying to make up for the many times she wasn’t there for me. But I can’t help but think it’s too little, too late. Why couldn’t she care about me when I was exhausted from back-to-back events, or when I was humiliated by tabloids publishing unflattering photos of me, or when rising gossip bloggers would try to generate more likes by spreading rumors about me—times when I needed her the most?
A few minutes later, Gavin comes back from working in the field just in time for lunch. After my tirade yesterday, things haven’t been great between us. Still, I look to him for camaraderie after being forced into child labor. Instead I’m surprised to find him excitedly talking about the farm and the plans they have for it.
“Gavin and I cleared half the field today,” Dad brags to Mom.
Gavin nods proudly. “We can probably finish the rest tomorrow.”
“Then we’ll have to decide what to plant.” Dad considers it.
“What do you think about cabbage?” Mom suggests. “Like the kind we grew in Anbandegi.”
“That’s a great idea,” Dad says. “I bet they have seeds for that at the convenience store. They have everything there.”
“I can come with you,” Gavin suggests. His enthusiasm doesn’t waver and seems genuine, which means he wasn’t faking a new hobby for the sake of Mom and Dad’s approval. He’s actually excited about working on the farm.
How can everything be different and yet somehow remain exactly the same?
At night I take another bath using the last of my lavender bath salts. As much as I didn’t want to deplete my supply, I needed it. It’s surreal how easy it is for Mom, Dad, and even Gavin to go on as if this were normal life. Like they’ve been living here for years.
“Elena, come on. It’s been over an hour.” Gavin knocks on the door. “It’s a bathroom, not a magician. No amount of time in there can change who you are.”
I groan. Gavin is the worst. Like, honestly. It’s impossible to pretend I’m okay with living here with my family. Tomorrow I’ll see if the convenience store has more lavender bath salts, because if today was an indication of what it’s going to be like living here, I’m going to need a silo-sized amount to get me through it.
After I dry my hair and get into bed, Gavin comes in from the bathroom and settles into his bed. I’m about to doze off when I hear Gavin…humming? I was already in a mood. Gavin’s good spirits make me snap.
I jolt up from under my covers and glare at him. “How can you be happy at a time like this?”
“Whoa, relax.” He puts his palms up. Gavin telling me to relax is the role reversal I least expected. Especially considering our surroundings.
“No, Gavin. You need to unrelax,” I low-growl at him. “We live here now.”
“It’s not that bad,” Gavin says dismissively.
“Yes, it is,” I say through gritted teeth. “Why do you think we couldn’t find new tenants? It’s so bad, no one wants to live here. People are abandoning their homes to leave this place, and we’re being forced to live here.” I let out a sob that I’ve been trying to keep in.
Gavin remains unmoved by my emotional outburst. “You seriously need to calm down.”
Calm down?!I glare at him. Not today, Satan.
“This isso nothow I want to spend my summer.”
“You think this is how I want to spend my summer?” Gavin’s head jerks back. “Living with you is the worst part about it.”
But that’s just it. Even though he may not like sharing a room with me, he’s definitely happier about everything else.
“Actually I do think this is how you want to spend your summer.” I assess him from head to toe. Something’s changed in him these last few days. And it’s not his fashion choice, which is a shame. He’s more upbeat and less moody than before, with a look of serenity on his face that can only come from a person who has found inner peace. And who could ever be at peace in this situation? “You’ve been giving off orange cat energy since we got here.”
“Orange cat energy?”
“Yes. Strange. Weird. Inexplicable,” I say, loud and clear, so there’s no room for misunderstanding. When he still doesn’t get it, I realize my oversight. This is Gavin I’m speaking to. I’m going to have to be more direct. “Why’d you lie to Dad about your grades?”
This gets his attention. “Who said I lied?”
“I know report cards were released three weeks ago.”
When he falls silent, I know I’m right.
