this girl, huh?â
My dadâs voice comes from behind me, and I jump away from the window, almost giving myself whiplash when I turn around to glare at him.
âDad! What are you talking about?â
âYouâve been waiting at this window like a little kid watching out for Santa Claus to bring him his presents,â Dad says with a shrug. âNot to mention all the different ways youâve told us how perfect this girl is. I might be smart, but I could be stupid and still be able to tell that you like this girl.â
I follow Dad into the kitchen as he talks, and absent-mindedly hop onto a seat at the kitchen counter, watching him as he makes a fresh pot of coffee.
âItâs complicated, Dad.â
âRight,â he says. âHow?â
âYou wouldnât understand.â
He looks up from the coffee machine, raising an eyebrow and giving me a piercing look, reminding me that I take after Dad in only one way: we both share the same blue eyes.
âI, the adult whoâs been married for twenty-five years to the love of his life, wouldnât understand anything about a teenage boy with a crush.â
âItâs not a crush, Dad.â
He gives me a long look, then turns on the coffee machine and comes to take a seat at my side, propping her elbows on the marble top of the kitchen counter and lacing his fingers together. The silent, searching look he gives me makes me realise how much Iâve missed him, missed talking to him. I wonder if I would have messed up this badly if Iâd gotten to talk to him more. After all, heâs not wrong: heâs actually managed to not only go out with the woman he loved, but marry her and stay married to her for twenty-five years. And Mom doesnât even look unhappy like those married middle-aged women on TV, so you know he must be doing something right.
Dad stays silent, waiting patiently for me to have the courage to tell him the truth.
âI really, really like her, Dad. I might even love her. But sheâsââ I try to think of a way to explain what the problem is, to summarise, truthfully, , as Sophie would say, why exactly my love is so doomed. âSheâs too good for me, Dad.â
He nods slowly. âHmm. Why do you think that?â
âBecause, Dadâ¦â I take a deep breath. âI really, really messed up.â
âGo on.â
âI donât even know where to start.â
âStart at the beginning.â
When I was really young, back in the US, Dad used to help me with my Math homework, and even though I hated Math, I used to love sitting with him at the kitchen island and listening to him explain my homework. He would talk exactly as he is doing now, in a gentle voice, calm but never patronising, and give clear, simple instructions.
âWell. You remember when I was in Year 9?â
âWhat is thatâFreshman year?â
âNoâsort of. The year before that.â
Dad nods. âRight. No, I canât say I remember. What happened?â
âA new girl started at school.â
He raises his eyebrows. âThe prefect?â
I sigh deeply. âShe wasnât a prefect then, but yes, her. She was, she is⦠you know. Not like us.â I give Dad a significant look, and he tilts his head mutely. âHer parents work for the school, I think she got in on some sort of academic scholarship and because her parents work at Spearcrest. At the time, everyone was saying her parents were cleaners, even though thatâs not true. Anyway, you know what I mean. So of course, when she started she stuck out like a sore thumb. It was just so obvious she wasnât like everybody else. And some kids were mean to her because of her parents and⦠well, also, she used to be spotty and have big feet.â
âRight,â Dad says.
At this point, Iâm sure he must be wondering what the hell Iâm on about, and honestly Iâm half wondering that too. But everything is slowly pouring out of me and I donât feel quite in control of exactly what Iâm saying, and Dad doesnât prompt me to hurry up, he just watches me and waits calmly.
âWell, anyway. We started talking and became friends. She was, I donât know⦠funny. Clever and really funnyâsarcastic, like an adult. I liked that about her. And she would always get into fights and arguments when people tried to make fun of her. She was, I donât know, fiery. Like she always stuck-up for herself. I liked all these things about her.â
âSounds like the start of a promising friendship,â Dad comments. âSo how did it all go wrong?â
I open my mouth to ask him how he knows it went wrong, but I look into his clever blue eyesâthe same colour as mine but with far more intelligence in thereâand find my answer there. Of course, things went wrong. Otherwise I wouldnât be in the situation Iâm in now.
âWe stopped being friends.â
âWhy?â
âItâs complicated.â
Dad smiles a little. âHm.â
âOkay, alright. You remember Luca?â
âThe Novus kid?â
Novus is the name of Lucaâs fatherâs business, some chem tech company nobody knows about but somehow makes millions. I nod. âYeah, him.â
Dad raises an eyebrow. âThe one you got into that brawl with and I had to have a meeting with your headmaster?â
I groan. âYeah.â
âI thought you two sorted your issues? Arenât you friends now?â
âWe areâwell, we were, butâ¦â I hesitate. âIt was a weird friendship, Dad. Do you remember Giselle?â
âThe girl you dated for a while last year?â
âYeah. You know how Luca dated her?â
âI didnât know that. Is that an issue between you two?â
âNoâitâs not that. I donât think I was a great boyfriend to Giselle and Luca didnât exactly intend on marrying her, itâs not like I have a problem with that. But with Luca, being friends with Luca⦠you have to be ready to share. Luca likes what other people have.â
âHm.â Dad nods slowly, his eyes narrowing. âSo, what? You didnât want him to take the prefect from you, so you torpedoed your friendship with her?â
I stare at him. I didnât expect him to get it so quickly, and somehow hearing it out of his mouth makes it sound so much worse. It makes it sound stupid, petty, childish. Which, I suppose, is exactly what it is.
âYeah. And then⦠Well, I stopped being friends with her, but I was scared Luca would know that I liked her, so I was⦠uh, pretty horrible to her.â
âFor how long?â
âPretty much the last four years.â
Now Dadâs composure cracks slightly. He sits forward and sighs, rubbing his short beard as he always does when heâs working out a problem or thinking over an issue.
âSo youâre telling me that not only did you end a friendship with this girl, but you then went on to bully her for several years?â
âItâs not bullying. More, like⦠being really mean.â
Dad raises his eyebrows, unimpressed. âYes, son, a very mild explanation of what bullying is.â
I drop my head into my hands. âUgh, Iâve been a total arsehole, Dad.â
Dad pats my shoulder, a reassuring gesture which he follows up with, âIt does sound like it, Ev, I wonât lie.â
I peer at him through my fingers and add, my words half-muffled by my palms. âAnd also she got a job because sheâs worried about money because she wants to study in the US, and then I told the school about it because I was jealous she liked some other guy instead of me, and then I called her poor in front of everyone.â
Even though Iâve left out some of the worst stuff, itâs still enough to get me a shocked, âJesus, Ev!â from Dad.
Now heâs outright glaring at me.
Then a different voice pipes up. âWhy the blasphemy?â
Mom comes into the kitchen, saunters over to Dad, and they kiss as if sheâs been gone for days, not just been upstairs for a few online meetings in her office.
Dad wastes no time filling her in. âYou know the girl Evan has a crush on?â
Momâs face lights up. âOh, the Harvard girl! Yes, Iâm very excited to meet her!â
âWell, our son here apparently got her in trouble with school and has been essentially bullying her for several years.â
I stare in horror at Dad, then look quickly back at Mom, whose face has dropped as quickly as it lit up earlier. She covers her mouth with her hands, drawing closer.
âWhat do you mean? Oh, Evan, what did you do?â
âI didnât bully her, Iââ Iâm interrupted by Dadâs silent frown. âOkay, yes, I was horrible, but I was so scared somebody else would notice her, I thought, I didnât even know what I thought, I guess I thought if I couldnât have her I would rather nobody have her at all.â
â
?â Mom exclaims, aghast. â
, Evan Alexander Knight! As if this girl isâwhat? An object? A toy? A thing?â
I shake my head, raising my hand. In between the disappointed shaking of Dadâs head and Momâs expression of horrified anger, I donât even know which is worse, and I donât dare look either in the eyes. âNo, I donât mean it like that.â
âHow else can you someone, Evan?â Mom asks, crossing her arms.
When I arrived home, she was so happy to see me. She gave me a big hug, and we laughed because we were both in the same outfit: black jeans and sky-blue topsâme in the hoodie Sophie gave me, Mom in a big fluffy sweater of the exact same colour. I could tell sheâd missed me, and I wouldnât even have been embarrassed to admit that I missed her too.
But now, her affectionate gaze and dimpled smile have both vanished.
âI messed up,â I admit miserably. âI really fucked up. I know that. I donât know what to do.â
âYou could start by apologising. Admitting youâve messed up is a good first step, but you have to acknowledge it, too. And apologise when youâre in the wrong.â
âAnd do better,â Mom says. âApologies are good, but sheâll know youâre sorry if you actually show her, through your actions.â
I nod. âI know, Iâm going to tryâIâm trying. Mom and Dad, Iââ
Adele interrupts us, whirling into the kitchen with a casual flick of her long hair. Unlike me, sheâs inherited Dadâs dark hair and fair complexion, but we both share his eyes. âWhoâs the sexy girl outside?â
I turn so fast I almost give myself whiplash. âWhat sexy girl?â
Adele shrugs and pours herself a cup of fresh coffee. âSmoky voice, bedroom eyes, dark hair.â
âThat girl,â Mom says pointedly, âis Evanâs friend weâre all going to be exceptionally nice to.â
âThat girlâs your friend?â Adele says with an obnoxious expression of surprise. âShe seems well too good forâDad!â
Dadâs just swiped the cup of coffee from under her and she gives him a scandalised look. He shrugs in a perfect imitation of her own shrug earlier. âI made the fresh pot, I get first dibs. Now letâs go and welcome that girl weâve heard so much about. Best behaviour, everyone, especially .â
He gives me a warning look and I sigh, half wishing I hadnât said anything to begin with, half relieved that I finally got it off my chest. As I lead everyone towards the door, I take a deep breath, bracing myself, hoping and praying that introducing Sophie to my family isnât a massive mistake.
I open the door. Whether this week is going to turn out good or bad, itâs too early to tell, but thereâs one thing thatâs certain: if nothing else, this week is definitely going to be interesting.