A Midsummer's Nightmare

CHAPTER 8

“Oh, honey,” Sylvia said, putting a hand on my arm when I came down for dinner that night. “Your shoulders are so burned. Are you okay? Let me take a look.”

I jerked away as she reached up to push my hair aside so she could see the back of my neck and shoulders. “Ouch. Don’t touch. It’s fine,” I said, moving toward my chair.

Once I’d sat down, I looked back at her. Our eyes met for a long moment before Sylvia shook her head, sighing. “Okay. Well, I’m sure Nathan showed you the aloe vera we keep in the bathroom.”

I nodded, forcing myself not to look at Nathan, who was sitting across the table from me. I was sure I could feel heat, unrelated to my sunburn, creeping up my neck.

“If you need anything else, let me know and I’ll pick it up on my way home from work.”

“Sure.”

Bailey walked into the dining room just then, blond ponytail swinging like a pendulum behind her. She took her usual seat between Sylvia and me. “Is your sunburn feeling any better?” she asked.

I gritted my teeth. “It’s fine.”

When Dad entered the dining room I half expected him to comment on my fried arms and shoulders, which were totally exposed in my tank top. But he didn’t say anything. He just sat down on the other side of me, barely glancing my way, and asked, “How did your first day of work go, sweetheart?”

“Really well,” Sylvia said, scooping chili into a bowl and passing it to Bailey. “I can really see myself at home there. Don’t get me wrong—I liked the people at the other firm. But this one is smaller and more… friendly? I feel more comfortable there in one day than I ever felt at my old job.”

“Do you get your own office now?” Bailey asked.

“Yep. I’ll take you to work with me so you can see it if you want.”

Bailey blushed. “Mom, you take your little kids to work—not your teenagers.”

“I can take anyone I want.” She handed me a bowl of chili, smiling. “You can come too, Whitley.”

“Maybe,” I muttered. Or not.

“What about you kids?” Dad asked, taking a sip of his tea. “Are you guys getting to know each other pretty well? I’m sure it’s a little bit awkward at first.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I’d say we’re getting to know each other really well. Wouldn’t you, Nathan?”

He kicked me under the table and mouthed, Not funny.

Oblivious, Bailey added, “Whitley and I watched a movie today and hung out. We like the same kind of music—it was fun.”

I nodded, even though I knew Bailey had only pretended to know the songs I’d listed for her when she quizzed me that afternoon. Not that many thirteen-year-olds were familiar with bands from the nineties. But she’d smiled and nodded and acted like she knew them all.

“That’s great,” Sylvia said. “What movie did you all watch?”

“Bring It On.”

“Again?” Sylvia laughed. “It’s a miracle you haven’t worn that DVD out from watching it so much.”

Bailey ducked her head. “I can’t help it.”

“Speaking of movies.” I turned and looked at Dad. “There’s this new sci-fi film in theaters now. I saw the trailer on TV today. Do you want to go see it this weekend?”

“Sorry, munchkin. I can’t this weekend,” Dad said. “I have to give the commencement speech at a local university on Saturday. And I’m filling in for the evening news on Sunday—Tommy’s got to catch a flight to Colorado for his sister’s wedding and can’t do the show. But I’m sure Nathan will drive you to the theater. Won’t you, Nate?”

“Um, yeah. Of course.”

“Great,” Dad said. “You’ll have to tell me how it is.” He stood, picking up his unfinished plate. “I hate to leave so soon, but I have to get back to writing this speech.” He kissed Sylvia on the top of her head before leaving the room.

When the chili was eaten and the table cleared, Nathan and I headed upstairs to our rooms.

“When do you want to go see the movie?” he asked when we reached the landing. “Lucky for you, I’m a big fan of sci-fi.”

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “So is Dad. He’s made me watch every Star Wars and Star Trek movie ever made at least once. Sometimes we’d stay up late having marathons—one right after the other.”

“That sounds fun.”

“I hate sci-fi.”

“Wait—what?”

“I hate science fiction. I just watch it because Dad loves it.” I let out a breath. “Don’t worry about the movie Saturday. I’m not interested, so you’re off the hook and we can go back to counting the days until we’re away from each other.”

I’d just pushed open the door to the guest room when Nathan asked, “Whitley, are you okay?”

I looked over my shoulder at him. “Do you care?”

“Yeah—of course.”

“Why?”

Nathan raised an eyebrow at me.

I shook my head. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. I’m fine.” Before he could say anything else, I walked into the guest room and shut the door.

“Yeah, I’m having a great time,” I lied when Mom called on Wednesday.

“Are you and your dad spending much time together?” she asked.

She wasn’t asking for my sake; I knew that. She wanted me to complain. She wanted an open invitation to bitch about him.

I didn’t want to hear it.

“Um, yeah,” I said. “He, um, wants to go mini-golfing this weekend.” I forced a laugh. “How lame is that, right?”

“It sounds nice…. I was worried about you, you know.”

No you weren’t.

“Well, things have gotten better,” I maintained. “I overreacted the other night. It’s not so bad, really. We’ve all been hanging out and watching movies. It’s the same as always, just with a few more people in the house. It’s great.”

“Don’t get used to it, sweetie,” Mom warned. “Things are happy now, but your dad will mess it up. He always does.”

“Whatever.”

“I’m serious,” she said. “I don’t want you to be surprised or upset when it happens. It’s bound to go downhill.”

“Uh-huh.” I took a swig from the Margaritaville Gold while she went on and on, the whole time insisting that telling me this was for my own good.

She didn’t know what was good for me.

I wasn’t sure anyone did.