“He’s Laura’s father, Coop. He’s also one of the parents on the fundraising committee. And now, thanks to your little internet debut, he’s threatening to pull his support unless you’re suspended or removed from every extracurricular you’re in.”
I blinked. “That’s… not a lot.” I hadn’t really signed up for much this year, I wanted to focus on other stuff.
Her smile was terrifying. “Yes. I’m aware. Which means he’s going to focus on getting you suspended and possibly making sure that every admissions counselor in the country knows you were in those videos.”
There wasn’t anything I could say. She didn’t want excuses. She didn’t even wanttruth. She wanted blood. Mine, preferably.
“So here’s what’s going to happen,” she said, crossing her arms. “You are going to call Laura. You are going to apologize, without making this aboutyou. You are going to do ittoday. And then you are going to figure out a way to make this go away before I lose my job, your sister changes her last name, or I have to sit through a meeting where someone brings it up with a sorrowful shake of their head and this is what happens to boys who come from bad homes.”
Footsteps behind me.
“I already changed my last name,” Trina said, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. “It’s Disappointed. Trina Disappointed. Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
“I will literally Venmo you to leave the room,” I muttered.
“Cool. Start with a hundred and we’ll talk.”
“Trina.” Right now, Mom wasn’t even looking at her but there was no mistaking the knife edge on her tone.
“Whatever. Just don’t let him get his gross boy germs on my oat milk.”
She disappeared with a huff and a full-onshudderlike I was some radioactive creep.
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I just slumped forward and dragged both hands over my face. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”
“No,” Mom said, not unkindly this time. “But itdid. And now you need to take responsibility for it. That means no more jokes, no more ducking calls, no more pretending you can charm your way out of this.”
I hated that she was right.
It wasn’t just about Laura. Or the group chat. Or the videos.
It was aboutFrankie.
I hadn’t evenheardfrom her. She hadn’t responded to any of our texts. No thumbs-up. No “wtf, Coop.” Noanything.
She’d seen it. She had to have.
And I didn’t know what hurt more—her silence, or the knowledge that she probably wasn’t surprised.
I opened my phone again and stared at the group chat with the guys. Still active. Still a mess. But none of them had said anything about Frankie. Not yet.
Maybe no one wanted to be the first one to admit it.
But I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Because whatever else this week had been—a nightmare, a scandal, a ticking time bomb—I knew one thing for sure.
We’d broken something. Something real.
And I didn’t know how we were going to fix it.
Or if we even could.
I sat at the dining table with my phone pressed to my ear, watching the call go to voicemail for the fourth time.
“Laura, it’s me—” I started again, but her recorded message cut me off before I could finish the sentence.
