“What? Why not?”Great.Now I sound prepubescent.
She smooths down her blouse, and I tense up. This is always a bad sign.
“Your sister is on her way.”
Like I fucking said.
“Amelia is coming?” I whip around to Dad. “Did you know about this?”
“Yeah, your mom told me Amelia would be coming down to spend July here. She just forgot to mentionshewould be coming, too.”
Amazing. Just what this three-week hellscape needed to round itself out.
“Thanks for the heads-up, guys,” I mutter. “Fantastic. I’m sure the vibe tonight will beawesome.All the more reason for me to get out before she shows up.”
“Aren’t you two getting a little old for this?” Mom smiles. “Let’s just have a nice, quiet family dinner together, for once.”
I take a deep breath in and stare at my toes. I love my mom, I really do. But sometimes, she annoys the hell out of me.
I’m just about to respond when the front door flies open.
“Honeys, I’m home!”
Here we fucking go.
I listen as my sister drops her bag in the entryway, and I can already picture the exact look on her face once she realizes I’m here. I know her like the back of my hand. She’s got my mother’s smile, and I watch it fade the second her eyes land on me.
“Donovan.” She sounds pissed.
“Amelia,” I echo, in the same tone.
She glances around the room. “Nice place.”
This is the first time she’s set foot in Dad’s house, so to say it feels weird seeing her in our living room is an understatement. She stayed behind in Washington, DC, with Mom, and I followed Dad when he landed this awesome job at Sycamore Heights—which means Ihaven’t seen my sister in more than a year. She’s changed, that’s for sure—she’s looking trim and toned—and curling her lip at me like I’m an inch tall.
She pulls my mom in for a hug and heads over to kiss Dad.
“You’re not looking so great, Coach.”
Dad and I both wince. He hates when she calls him that, but you can’t teach an old dog new tricks—she’s been using the nickname since she turned fourteen. She’s impossible.
“I’m gonna jump in the shower,” she says. “I reek from the bus ride.”
“Don, show her around,” Mom says, in the kind of tone you don’t argue with.
I’m about to point out that maybe she can show herself around, because it isn’t exactly rocket science, but Dad’s motto springs to mind:Pick your battles.
“Right this way.”
I hit the stairs, pausing halfway to give her time to catch up, and when I catch her glaring at me, I sigh. I’m just praying she doesn’t plan on hanging around for too long.
“How long are you here for?” I can’t help but ask.
“Ten days,” she says. “Then I need to head back to DC and get ready for school.”
I nod.
“Bedroom,” I offer flatly, pointing out the way. “Bathroom.”
