I knew I was being selfish and overdramatic, but at that moment, I didn’t care. If Sylvia was mad at me because of something as stupid as a party, I was allowed to be pissed at her, too. I thought she’d raise her voice, yell at me, tell me how ridiculous I was being, and that would have been fine. But she didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

I stood up and started toward the door. Sylvia reached out for me, but I pushed her hand away. I didn’t want her to console me. I didn’t want her to try to be a good stepmom. I just wanted her to go. Because if Dad weren’t marrying her, none of this would be happening. I wouldn’t have gone to that party, Bailey wouldn’t have gotten drunk, and I wouldn’t be in trouble now. If she had never met him, Dad and I would be having one of our great summers together right now.

Dad would still be mine.

“Look,” I said to her when I reached the door. “Why don’t you just figure out my punishment yourself and let me know. Because Dad’s just going to agree to whatever you want, anyway.”

“Whitley…”

“I’m hungry,” I said. “I’m getting breakfast. Just tell me what my punishment is when you figure it out.”

I opened the door and ran downstairs as fast as I could, hoping she wouldn’t follow me. She didn’t.

Nathan was sitting at the dining room table, eating a Pop-Tart and using his laptop. “Good morning,” he said without looking up.

“For who?” I walked into the kitchen and grabbed a bagel before heading back into the dining room. “I cannot believe you ratted us out.”

“I didn’t.”

“So Bailey just admitted to your mother that not only did she get drunk, she also lied about where we were going?”

“She didn’t have to. Mom’s not an idiot, Whit.”

“But you acted like you had it all figured out last night,” I said.

“Yeah, well, that was before Bailey woke up with a massive hangover. Kind of obvious she didn’t get that from the bowling alley.”

“We still could have made something up,” I argued. “We could have—”

“Look,” Nathan said, finishing off his Pop-Tart. “Mom’s not clueless. She can figure this stuff out. We couldn’t have lied our way around this. Trust me.”

I didn’t question him any more. It was just weird to me, the idea of someone who paid that much attention, someone who actually tried to see through the bullshit stories. Sylvia definitely wasn’t like my mother.

“All right, kids.” Sylvia appeared in the doorway of the dining room. “I’m going to the office to do some last-minute research for this trial. I shouldn’t be gone long. Keep an eye on Bailey for me, please. Whitley…” She looked at me for a long moment, then shook her head. “You’re grounded for the week, unless your father says otherwise.”

Oh, well, I thought. It’s not like there’s anything to do in this town, anyway.

“Nathan, come on,” she said. “I’ll drive you to the gym on my way.”

“Okay. Give me a second to grab my stuff.”

She nodded and walked back into the living room.

“Why is she driving you?” I asked as Nathan crumpled his Pop-Tart wrapper.

“I lost car privileges for two weeks,” he said. “I can’t go anywhere unless she or Greg drives me. So, basically, I’m grounded.”

It didn’t seem fair that Nathan was being punished for two weeks when I only got one. Not that I felt sorry for him, but he really hadn’t done anything wrong. Sure, he’d made up the lie, but he’d stayed sober and taken care of Bailey when I hadn’t. I decided to keep my mouth shut, though. I should be grateful I got off easy by comparison.

“Why is she letting you go to the gym, then?” I asked.

“I have to stay in shape for basketball,” he said, taking his trash and empty glass of milk into the kitchen. “The season doesn’t start for a while, but it’ll be easier to get back into the swing of things if I keep working out.”

“I didn’t know you played basketball,” I said, nibbling on my bagel.

“You never came to a single game in high school?”

“If I did, I was usually hanging out under the bleachers.”

Nathan sighed and walked back into the dining room. “Well, then, yes. I do play basketball. I got a scholarship to UK and everything.”

I stopped chewing for a moment and stared at him. “UK?” I repeated. “You mean the University of Kentucky.”

“Uh-huh.”

As if this summer with Nathan weren’t awkward enough, we would be going to the same college come late August. I tried to tell myself that UK was huge and the chances of us running into each other were probably slim, but I knew, I just knew, that wouldn’t be the case. With my shitty luck, I’d probably have every class with him, or we’d live on the same floor.

“All right. I’m getting out of here.”

I nodded, swallowing a piece of bagel. “Fine. Um, do you care if I use your computer? I’m kind of bored and wanted to surf the Web.”

“No,” Nathan said quickly. “I mean, yes, I do mind.” He snapped the laptop shut and tucked it under his arm. “It’s defragging, so it’ll be a while before anyone can use it.”

“Ooo-kay,” I said. “Whatever.”

It was so obvious he was lying. Maybe he did have porn on there.

“Right. Well, I’ll see you later, Whit.” He carried his laptop out of the dining room, leaving me sitting alone at the table.

After Sylvia and Nathan had gone and I finished eating, I went upstairs. I’d barely been in my room five seconds when my cell phone started to ring.

“Hey, Boozy!” Harrison said as soon as I picked up. “You hanging out with the toilet today?”

“Hardly. That was nothing last night,” I said.

“Oh, really? God, I’d be afraid to see something, then. So what’s up today, babe? Bonding with the stepbrother?”

“No,” I said. “He went to the gym.”

There was a long silence, and I heard Harrison let out a low sigh. I knew he must be imagining Nathan all sweaty and shirtless on the treadmill… or the exercise bike… with those lean, muscled arms and…

Christ, now I was thinking about it, too. Not a good idea.

“So,” I said, clearing my throat. “What’s up?”

“Not much. Just wondering if you had plans today.”

“Nope.”

“Want to hang out?”

“I can’t,” I said. “Grounded for the week. I’m not allowed to leave the house.”

“That blows.”

“I know.”

“Hmm.” He paused, then said, “Well, are you allowed to have people over to visit?”

“I’m not sure,” I said. “I wasn’t told not to. So…”

“Fabulous. I’ll be at your place in twenty.”

14

Sometime between Wesley’s party and the Father’s Day cookout Sylvia planned, Harrison Carlyle and I became friends. At least, that’s what he claimed we were. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.

Don’t get me wrong. Harrison was fun to be around. He’d come over almost every day during the week I was grounded (just as I’d predicted, Dad hadn’t altered Sylvia’s punishment). We watched movies and swam and talked about college plans. I had to give him credit; he kept me entertained, and Sylvia never said a word about me having guests over. If it weren’t for Harrison, I might have gone crazy.

Still, once my sentence was over and Harrison and I began venturing out of the house, I wasn’t totally comfortable with the way he introduced me as “my friend Whitley” or the way he’d laugh when we were talking and say things like, “I’ve never had a friend quite like you.” I wasn’t really sure how to contradict him, though, since I did like having him around—which is more than I can say about most people.

We spent time together almost every day, and when I told him about Sylvia’s big cookout plans, he offered to crash the party to keep me from stabbing myself in the eye with a shish kebab rod. A party devoted to celebrating a father I’d barely spoken to in weeks, thrown by the people who’d taken him away? Since getting hammered wasn’t an option, I knew I’d need Harrison’s support.