A Midsummer's Nightmare

CHAPTER 16

I spent the next several days avoiding Nathan as much as was humanly possible. This involved lots of the silent treatment and cold-shouldering, mixed with a little bit of the immature “Did you hear something? Must have been the wind,” whenever he tried to get my attention in the presence of others. Sylvia raised her eyebrows at this once or twice, but she had the sense not to ask me questions. And Dad… Well, I didn’t see Dad much, so he probably had no idea.

Bailey was the only one who ventured into the questioning territory, stupid kid.

“Did Nathan, like, do something to piss you off?” she asked one afternoon on the couch after Nathan spent ten minutes trying to talk to me with no luck.

“Since when do you say piss?” I asked, picking up the remote and flipping to a movie channel.

“I’m almost fourteen. I swear sometimes.”

“I’ve never heard you swear.”

“Well, I do. So, what did Nathan do?”

“Your mother will kill you if she hears you talking like that.”

“I won’t let her hear me, then,” she said. “Why are you mad at Nathan?”

I groaned and leaned my head against the back of the couch. “Not that it’s any of your business, but he said something stupid, so yes, I’m pissed at him.”

“Oh. What did he say?”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “Bailey.”

“Okay, sorry. I’ll stop asking questions.” She repositioned herself on the couch to see the screen better. “But you can tell me if you decide you want to talk about it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, thanks.”

Not many people could get away with pestering me the way Bailey did, but I was just incapable of getting mad at her. Maybe it was all the time we’d been spending together, watching bad reality TV and goofy eighties movies, or maybe it was the constant guilt I felt when I looked at her, thinking of what those boys had done to her and knowing it was my fault for not watching her.

Either way, I was incapable of getting angry with her, even when she was at her most annoying.

“Hey, girls,” Dad said as he walked into the living room. He’d been doing something in his office ever since he got home from work earlier that afternoon. “Can you two do me a favor?”

“Sure,” I said, twisting to look at him over the back of the couch. “What’s up?”

“Do you mind picking up around the house? Taking out the trash, dusting some of the furniture, the usual? Sylvia’s asked me to run to the grocery store, and I want the house cleaned up before she gets home.”

“We can do that,” Bailey said, switching off the TV.

“Thanks. I owe you both.” He started for the door, pausing to slip on his shoes.

“Hey, Dad?” I said, getting to my feet.

“Uh-huh?”

He kept facing the wall, bending down to tie his shoes without looking at me. I wanted him to look at me, wanted to see his eyes when they met mine. He hadn’t said a word about the pictures on Facebook, but he had to have seen them… right?

“Um, do you think we could hang out soon?” I asked. “To talk about, like, college and majors and stuff?”

“Sure. I’ll have to look at my schedule, but I should have time next weekend. We’ll do something then.”

He had to find time in his schedule to talk to me. Wow, that made me feel important.

“Great,” I said. “I’m going to spend the night at Harrison’s on the Fourth, but maybe that afternoon? Before he picks me up?”

“Sounds good.” He gave me a quick smile before pulling open the front door and heading out. He’d glanced at me, but only for a millisecond—not enough for me to tell if he was looking at me differently.

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair.

“You okay?” Bailey asked. I turned and found her already holding a dust rag in her hand. “You look… Are you pissed at Greg, too?”

“Stop saying pissed. It’s weird.”

She grinned. “That time I just did it to see what you’d say.”

I grabbed the dust rag out of her hand and started cleaning the entertainment center. “Go take out the trash, Potty Mouth.”

She laughed and headed into the kitchen. “Pissed!” she shouted as she walked through the dining room. “Shit! Damn!”

I rolled my eyes. If Nathan heard her tossing out curses, he’d probably blame me for that, too. Say it was my influence or something.

Really, though, I wouldn’t have cared. I was just happy she was in a good mood, laughing and joking. I was glad those boys hadn’t taken that Bailey away from me. Especially because at the moment, she was the only person in this family I actually liked.

I got up early the morning of Harrison’s party, hoping to spend a few hours talking with Dad about potential majors. I was fully prepared for an awkward confrontation about the Facebook pictures, and I’d even figured out exactly how I’d respond when he started asking me about the group.

Unfortunately, I never got the chance to use my speech.

I waited around downstairs all afternoon for Dad to get home from work. One o’clock, two o’clock, three o’clock… Around three thirty he called the house from his cell phone.

“Hi, munchkin,” he said. “Could you do me a favor and ask Nathan to meet me at the theater? I’d swing by and pick him up, but it took longer than I expected to pick out fireworks for tonight.”

“The theater?” I repeated. “Nathan? But I thought you and I were going to talk about college and… I don’t know. Hang out.”

“Oh, right,” he said. “I’m sorry—I forgot. We’ll do it soon, I promise.”

There was some muffled noise from his end.

“I’ve got to go, munchkin,” he said. “I’m in line to buy these fireworks. I’ll see you tonight.”

“I’m going to Harrison’s tonight.”

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said. “I love you. Bye.”

I clenched my fist around the cordless phone for a long moment before slamming it back down on the counter. Frustration boiled inside my chest. He’d ditched me for Nathan. For his new son. His new family.

I turned and stormed upstairs, pushing open the door to Nathan’s room without knocking. He was sitting on his bed, reading a book. He looked up when I walked in. To my surprise—and annoyance—he looked happy to see me.

“Hey,” he said. “I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to talk to you about what I said—”

“Dad wants you to meet him at the theater,” I said. “He can’t pick you up because he’s buying fireworks…. You’re going to the movies with him?”

“Um… Yeah, I am. We’re going to see that sci-fi movie—this is the last week it’s showing. Is that okay? Do you want to come with us?”

“No,” I snapped. “No, it’s not okay. He was supposed to hang out with me today. He was supposed to talk to me. About my future, my major, the shit people are saying online. He hasn’t talked to me about any of it, and he was supposed to today. But he’s not. Instead he’s going to the movies with you. And no, Nathan, I don’t fucking want to come with you.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know. Maybe he forgot.”

“Just like he’s been forgetting to look me in the eye lately. No, he’s just more excited to start fresh with his new, perfect family.”

Nathan had the grace to look genuinely sympathetic, at least. “Is there anything I can do? I could cancel, or I could drive you, and you could go instead.”

I softened a little. It was hard to be angry when he seemed to really care—even if my dad was replacing me with him. “No. I just—I need to check something on your computer.”

“Um, okay. What?”

“Facebook.” I sat down at the desk and brought up the Internet. I heard the springs of Nathan’s bed creak as he set his book aside and walked up behind me.

“You don’t want—”

“Don’t tell me what I want, Nathan.”

He was already signed in to Facebook when I opened the page. Finding the group wasn’t hard. It popped up as soon as I typed my name into the search bar.

I scrolled down, trying to ignore the left panel and the 167 people like this message there. Jesus, were there even 167 people in Hamilton to begin with? There were no new photos up, which made sense, since I hadn’t left the house in the last few days. But posts and comments and speculations about where I’d been had popped up.

Rehab already, maybe?

Wonder if Greg shipped her back to where she came from? I wouldn’t want my fans to see my daughter if she behaved that way.

I pushed their words out of my head and made myself click on the top photo—the one of me and the dreadlocks guy kissing.

“Nathan,” I said. “If someone’s name is tagged in a photo on here one day, but it isn’t now… What does that mean?”

“The person tagged can untag themselves,” he said. “Why?”

“Because,” I said, “Dad was tagged in this photo when you showed me the page, and now he isn’t. Which means he untagged himself. So he saw this picture. He saw it, and he didn’t say anything to me about it. He just… He untagged himself. Like it never happened.”

“Maybe he just—”

“He just doesn’t give a shit.”

I stood up and started for the door, but Nathan caught my arm. “Whit.”

“Whitley.”

“I’m sorry for what I said to you that day.” Nathan’s hand slid from my elbow to my wrist. “It wasn’t okay for me to call you a whore. It’s not okay for anyone to say that. Not the people online, and definitely not me. You told me once that I’m a hypocrite. And you’re right. I am. You should know that I—”

“While I’m sure this is going to be a fascinating story,” I interrupted, “I don’t care. I’m having a major parental crisis that sort of outshines your little tantrum, and frankly it seems like my dad agrees with you. I have a party to get ready for, so can we save it?”

He let go of my arm. “I get it. Yeah. Fine.”

“Great. Thanks.”

I knew this was Dad’s fault, that it was Dad I should be angry with, but I hated Nathan right then, too. Because Dad was spending time with Nathan today instead of with me. Nathan was the child he wanted. He couldn’t even make time in his schedule to talk to me, to care.

Untagged. He’d untagged himself from the photo.

From me.