The silence fell around us, and I didn’t know what to say.
“One sniff of this, of wholeakeda story, your future is gone,” Dad told Dante. “Possibly Slater’s, Matthews’s — theirs too. Guilty by association.” Dad looked at my mom with a shake of his head. “The impulsiveness of youth.”
“The impulsiveness of youth?” I repeated, pissed off on principle. “Thoseyouthsaren’t part of thislegacy, yet they’re the ones who will suffer! You’re thedean. This is on you to fix, Dad. There shouldn’t be excuses!”
“I am not the bad guy in this story. I know it’s easier to blame me, but this isn’t all on me.”
“Yates is,” Dante said coldly. “Not letting her do a course she wants? That’s on you too.”
Dad shook his head in exasperation. “I do not need parenting advice from you.”
“You need it from someone,” Dante countered. He looked at my mom. “Both of you.”
“I do not need thequarterbackof the program lecturing me on my daughter,” my dad snapped.
Dante snorted. “That’s it, isn’t it?” He shook his head in disgust. “You thought I was in on it?” Dante guessed. “I’m the quarterback. The highest profile on the team. You thought I was part of it.”
Dad licked his bottom lip, exchanging a look with my mom. “I doubt everyone. It’s not personal.”
“It’s personal to me,” I said loudly. “Of course it’s personal to him! It’s personal to every single person whose future is at stake because you can’t control your athletics department!”
“Do you know how bad it is?” Dante asked him quietly. “How easily they remind me I can be benched at any time if I say something. How quickly they’ll remove me from the team.”
Dad looked pissed off. “Have they lost their minds? Half of our donors would tie themselves to the gates in protest.Youwon the championship, do you know how muchrevenuethat brings into this school?”
“Theydon’t care,” Dante ground out angrily, and I knew he was struggling to keep calm. “Theydon’t carethat I know. They only care that I know how easily they can take it all away, from me, from anyone on the team.” He ran a hand over his jaw. “And not just me. They even reminded me of my hopes to get my mom, sister, and nephew out of my hometown.”
“Blackmail?” My dad looked at Dante with interest. “They’re threatening you?”
He shouldn’t look so excited at the thought.
Dante nodded. “It stinks. You’re not helping anyone within that program by staying quiet.”
“I need proof,” Dad mumbled, his eyes narrowed as he thought about it. “Get it on tape.” My dad looked too serious to be joking. “Record it, bring it to me. If you can prove it, I can use it.”
“He’s a student,” Mom reminded Dad. “This is risky. You said it yourself, this is their future.”
Dad didn’t look away from Dante. “You’ve never seen this boy play, Eliza,” Dad said. “Every quarter, he plays with risk.” He looked down at our joined hands. “Look at this right now. He’s standing here, ready to fight me, the dean, on behalf of your daughter. That’s not only ballsy, it’s risky. He’s a student, yes, but he can do it. Am I right?”
“Yes, sir.”
Dante didn’t even hesitate, and my stomach plummeted.
Mom gave us both a look. “Maybe . . .”
“I assume you told your roommates?” Dad asked Dante, barely fighting back the sigh when he nodded. “Don’t trust anyone else. It’s not worth the risk.” He looked at me. “Savannah—”
“I hate all the functions, the lunches, the galas, especially now I know what’s happening. I’m really not that good at faking it.” Not the right time to raise it, not the right subject considering everything, but it was all or nothing.
Dad nodded as he looked away. “Yes, I know. Pity, you were the only reason I got through most of them myself.”
I thought about how many times I'd assumed the worst of him.
“You could havetoldme this,” I reminded him.
“My intention was for you to never be anywhere near this. Why do you think I gave you an art shed to work in? To keep you away from it all.”
Dante looked between us. “So... she can keep the shed? Her project?”
