Super.
I try to walk around her and disappear, because I have nothing to say to my sister. Honestly, I have no idea when we last had a real conversation with each other. But I’m stopped by a guilty expression on her face and an embarrassed blush.
It’s not difficult to put two and two together. The door to Camille’s office was open the whole time. I didn’t worry about whether someone would find out what we were talking about because it didn’t matter to me if anyone knew.
Except it matters to me that it’s Lia who heard everything.
“Are you happy now?” The question slips out before I can stop myself.
“Jase—” She stops as I push past her and continue down the corridor. “Why are you acting like this?” She calls after me, her voice sounding so desolate that I turn back and stare at her.
“What are you talking about?” I return her gaze in disbelief. Her green eyes glitter tellingly. Lia is the last person who has the right to cry right now.
“You could have it all. Some people would kill to have the chance to go to Harvard. Why can’t you just do what Mom and Dad want?”
I stare at her, unable to comprehend what I’m hearing.
“You’re making a huge drama out of nothing.”
I laugh, stunned. “You’re kidding me, right? Would you do it? Give up your dream because Mom and Dad want you to?”
She hesitates for a second. “This isn’t about me, Jase.”
“That’s not an answer. Would you?”
She shrugs, and I want to shout at her, but I know it wouldn’t get me anywhere. “You’re not interested in my answer anyway. You don’t care about anyone but yourself.”
“And you’re so incredibly selfless, are you?” I say disparagingly.
“I never said that.” She sighs and brushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “But unlike you, I care about our family.”
“Give it a few years. Mom and Dad will probably manage to cure you of that.”
“You know what? Forget it! I can’t talk to you.”
She turns on her heel before I can reply and stomps away down the corridor.
I stare after her blankly. I could tell her that I do care about our family, just not in the way she thinks. But that would lead to a complicated conversation full of questions and accusations, and we don’t have conversations like that in this family.
* * *
Two days later, I’m walking out of a shiny glass building feeling angry and powerless. It’s the third bank I’ve visited today.
I’m sorry, Jase, there’s nothing I can do for you. Your father... blah, blah, blah. Bullshit and more bullshit.
I’m on the verge of lashing out, even though I know it won’t help me.
Christopher Shaw is my godfather. He just threw me out of his office with a sympathetic look on his face and a huge ass-kicking. He’s a finance guy who works in a bank, and about seventeen minutes ago, I more or less begged him to give me a student loan. Maybe it would have been smarter to go to him directly instead of trying two other banks first and being turned down by them in a friendly but consequent manner. Not even my name got me anywhere, even though half the city knows my parents and how wealthy they are.
But that’s exactly the problem. It’s my parents who are wealthy. I, on the other hand, am totally broke.
Applying for a student loan was one of the last of my almost nonexistent options. Chris was my last chance, and that’s probably why I put off going to see him. I knew he would probably email Dad the second I left his office.
I just didn’t realize that Dad was a few steps ahead of me and had already talked to Chris.
No loan, no scholarship, no job. That went well.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and check my messages in the faint hope that my old ballet teacher, Miss Plum, has answered and can create a job out of thin air for me. She hasn’t.
