I sighed and climbed out of bed, grabbing a pair of shorts and a T-shirt from my duffel. My own hangover was pretty minimal, since I’d stopped drinking around ten thirty. Most of the time, I didn’t hit my stride until midnight or later. So I wasn’t feeling half bad when I reached for the doorknob, intent on grabbing some breakfast downstairs.
At least I wasn’t until Sylvia spotted me.
“Whitley,” she said as soon as I walked out of my bedroom. She was sitting on Nathan’s bed, staring at me through the open door. I could see Nathan on the other side of her, still in a T-shirt and pajama pants. He was facing the wall, so I couldn’t see the expression on his face.
“Um, yeah?”
“Would you mind going back to your room and waiting for me?” she asked. “I need to have a talk with you.”
Shit.
“Uh, sure. But will it take long? I’m really hungry and want to grab breakfast.”
“It’ll only take a second.”
I nodded and slouched back into my room. This could not be good.
I sat down on the bed, twisting my hands together. Why was this worrying me? What the hell could Sylvia do? Nothing. She had no proof that I’d done anything wrong. That’s what I told myself when she walked into the guest room five minutes later, anyway.
“Whitley.” She sighed, not looking at me at first. “Whitley, Whitley…”
Yeah, that’s my name, I thought. Get to the point.
I watched as she sat down in the chair in front of the desk, turning it to face me. “So…” she said, her eyes wandering the room. After a moment, they fell on my duffel bag. “You haven’t unpacked yet?”
I shook my head.
“Why not?”
I shrugged.
“Oh… well, okay.”
There was a long pause. She wasn’t saying a word, just looking around the guest room and occasionally glancing at me. It was driving me nuts. So nuts I had to break the silence and get her to the point. Even if I was in trouble, that was better than letting her sit there screwing with me.
“Did you have something you wanted to talk about?”
“Yes.”
I sighed loudly. “Well, I mean, like I said, I’m really hungry, so can we hurry this up?”
Sylvia shot me a sharp look, warning me to watch my step. At least I thought she did. The menace disappeared so fast I wasn’t sure if I’d really seen it or not.
“Okay,” she said. “It’s about the party you kids went to last night when you told me you were out bowling.”
So Nathan or Bailey had ratted. Lame.
“I’m very upset that my daughter—my thirteen-year-old daughter—was at a party and drinking, especially when I hadn’t been informed.” She paused, as if I should respond to this. I didn’t, and she continued. “I don’t condone that kind of behavior in my home, Whitley—or outside of it, if we’re getting technical. Not from my children.”
“Okay,” I said. “So tell Bailey that.”
“I’ve already spoken to both her and Nathan.”
“Good to know.”
After a mini staring contest, Sylvia started to shake her head. “Listen,” she said. “I’m not your mother, or even your stepmother yet, but—”
“No,” I agreed. “You aren’t. I’m not your responsibility, and it isn’t your place to punish me. You can’t even prove I did anything wrong at the party.”
“You let a teenage girl drink,” she replied. “And I’m sure I can safely assume she wasn’t the only one of you drinking. I’m a lawyer, Whitley. Don’t challenge me to prove anything.”
I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.”
“And as long as you are living under my roof, spending time with my children, you are most definitely my responsibility. I’ve already discussed punishments with Nathan and Bailey. I’ll be discussing yours with your father when he gets home.”
“Gets home,” I repeated. “Where is he now? He didn’t have to cover Tommy’s show until four.”
“He had to run a few errands before work,” she said.
“Right.” I gritted my teeth, staring out the window. “Good luck discussing that punishment thing with him. Apparently, he’s impossible to talk to alone for more than five seconds. Maybe he’ll make the time for you, though.”
“I know he’s been busy this week,” Sylvia said. “It must be hard not getting to talk to him, but—”
“No,” I said. “What’s hard is living with an embittered psycho twenty-four/seven and only seeing my dad once a freaking year. Then, when I finally do see him, he’s too busy trying to make his new family happy to spend any time with me.”
“That’s not—”
“Don’t tell me it’s not true, Sylvia,” I snapped. “Your freaking guest list was more important than talking to me about college yesterday. The first time we’ve talked alone since I got here, and you and your wedding had to ruin it.”
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.