“I told him to fuck off.” He snorts. “And that I would rather put my head in a blender than have any part of his company.”
We laugh over how recklessly he talks to Dad. How willing he is to speak his mind, unlike anyone else in our family. I’m jealous.
It’s always been my father’s dream to keep VK Corp under the McCarthy name. I don’t remember how old I was the first time he told me that was what I was meant for. The one timehe tried to push that sentiment onto Grant, he was shot down. Dad’s face for the entire night was fuming red in disbelief. I loved it.
My chuckles are fading and I’m breaking down an empty cardboard box when Grant says, “I also think it’s fucked up he put you in a shared dorm when he knows you don’t like strangers.”
The laughter dies out completely. I almost say I doubt Dad thought of it, because that would make more sense and hurt less. Dads forget details all the time. Except, I don’t think my father forgot. I think he purposefully did this so I could feel anxious even at home.
This is a punishment.
“He’s trying to send a message.”
“It’s a fucked up one.”
The air is becoming thick—so quickly after Grant and I were joking together. I don’t want it to be that. I finally have another person who understands being my father’s son isn’t as glamorous as the gossip magazines make it out to be. I don’t want it to be spoiled.
I square my shoulders, walk a box of cookware to the cramped kitchen, and force myself to be optimistic.
“It’s okay. Maybe having a roommate will be good for me. Force me to get out of my shell a little.”
I’m lying through my teeth. I’m only able to speak with Grant because I’m comfortable around him. It’s difficult for me to form sentences around someone I don’t know well. I can’t even imagine having to live with a person I can barely talk to. Socializing hates me as much as I hate it.
Anxiety rips through my chest. Layered with the thought that, whoever I live with would be part of the Brookstone School of Engineering, flames the fire.
I wish I could go unnoticed throughout my life. I like flying under the radar. Dad isn’t a world famous rockstar or an A-list actor, but there are some finance bros and business-obsessed podcasters who read the magazines my father is featured in. We get stopped on the street sometimes and get asked for pictures. It’s never a good experience for me.
The seven weeks of my childhood when Dad thought it’d be a good idea to film our family for a shitty reality TV show were the worst.
If the universe lets one thing go right for me, I hope I at least live with someone who doesn’t know who my father is. Someone who won’t look at me and think of him before anything else.
I fidget with my glasses before fumbling to get a pot out of the box.
“Well, you got this apartment super late.” My brother laces his voice with a cheerful tone. I’m afraid it’s teetering on pity. “No one else is moved in. You could get the whole place to yourself.”
I adjust my glasses again. Almost let the pot slip from my hands.
“I don’t think Dad would risk that.”
He would make sure I get roomed with someone so I really feel the weight of his words. Make me think again before I want to do something for my own happiness, not his.
Grant lets out a deep sigh.
“Okay, yeah. You definitely have a roommate. But maybe they’ll become your best friend. Maybe you’ll be copies of each other. They could be a six foot three, secret gossiper, extremely introverted nerd like you.”
I turn away from the dishware scattered across the counter tops and squint at him. “So you do think I’m a nerd?”
“Of course I do. I’m your older brother.”
I knock my shoulder against Grant’s, laughing again. I’m starting to get this little brother, middle child thing down. I look up to him, get teased on occasion, and all things considered, realize that my older brother isalmostalways right.
four
ROSIE
I silently thank allthe forces in the world that I live on the first floor.
I silently curse past me for refusing Liliana’s offer to help move. I’ve managed to condense my belongings into ten moving boxes. Past me figured I would be strong enough to handle those on my own—so confident, I sent the movers away once they got my stuff to the building’s front door.
