26 Kisses (5 page)

I reach for the glass of water that’s been sitting on my nightstand for three days and chug it in one gulp. “We’re going to have to get Seth to drive us back to your car, you know. He’s probably still asleep.”

Mel shakes her head in a tornado of curls. “No way. Seth never sleeps. He’s like a rechargeable battery—sit him down at the piano for an hour or two, and he’s good to go.” She looks at me hopefully. “Do you want to text him?”

I snort. “No way.” I haul myself out of my chair and stumble across the hall to the bathroom, turning on the shower as hot as it will go and taking a giant swig from a bottle of mouthwash. Dad and his wife, Lila, are nearly as bad as Mel’s mom when it comes to sniffing out teenage shenanigans, and I really don’t need a lecture from them on underage drinking today.

The warmth of the shower soothes my hangover headache, and the overpowering mango shampoo ensures that I won’t smell like anything other than a fruit basket when Lila swoops in for one of her awkward hugs. I let the water run over my face and into my ears, wishing I could scrub the memory of last night from my brain.

After a quick blow-dry, I run back to my room, where Mel is texting furiously. “Seth will take us,” she says. “Although he is being a real butt about it. I guess he
was
sleeping.”

I pull a white skirt and navy blue top out of my closet—clothes more appropriate for a morning at church than a random summer day but that will pass Dad’s inevitable inspection and prevent any passive-aggressive comments from him. “Is that what you’re wearing?” I ask, gesturing at Mel’s ragged denim shorts and the wrinkly T-shirt she slept in.

“Sure.” She shoves her phone into her pocket and shrugs. “Your dad already hates me, so who cares?”

“He does not hate you. He just doesn’t understand your unique sense of style.” I grab my bag off the floor and remember my phone is dead—which means that at least I can put off worrying about texting Adam for the next couple of hours. “Come on. Let’s go pick up the preteen terror.”

Seth is a dark smudge against his parents’ white minivan, sitting on the bumper, his hands shoved into the pockets of his black jeans. Even his shoes are more muted than usual—brown leather work boots that make him look like a lumberjack. He grunts as we walk up, and then he slides into the driver’s seat, not bothering to say hello, and practically vibrates with annoyance as Mel chatters on in the front seat about how cool the party was last night and how she hopes we liked Killian because she thinks we’ll all be hanging out with him a lot this summer,
wink, wink
.

I see Seth’s shoulders tense and I kick the back of Mel’s seat. Seth, of course, has no idea Mel means she hopes
I
hook up with Killian. I don’t know for sure if Mel has noticed that Seth’s feelings toward her seem to have changed, but things are definitely weird between them right now. It’s like they’re two magnets constantly switching polarity, sometimes irresistibly drawn together and other times forcing themselves apart.

Mel’s car is tucked out of sight on the side of the road, still covered in early morning dew. “Thanks, Seth,” she says, and leans over to ruffle his hair. “You’re the best.” He flinches.

“See you later,” I say, and slide out of the backseat.

He pulls away the second I close the car door, his tires spitting up gravel as the wheels spin before gaining traction.

“What are you doing, Mel?” I ask, unable to stop myself from saying something even though I’m terrified of hearing the answer. The way Seth looked at her during the parade, the amount of time they’ve been spending together, the way she flirts with him—it seems like they’re right on the edge of getting together. But then she’ll make some comment about Killian being the hottest thing since sriracha and treat Seth like he exists only for her amusement. I don’t get it.

“What?” She gives me a blank look.

I study her and finally shake my head, unsure how to broach the subject without making it sound like I’m accusing her of leading Seth on. “Never mind.”

“Oh. Hi.” Jeffrey turns away as soon as he opens the front door, which is about ten feet tall and sports an enormous brass knocker that could have originally come from a medieval castle. It’s like we’re breaching a fortress of affluence.

“Nice to see you too,” I say, pushing past him into the foyer, Mel trailing behind me. With a five-year age gap between us, Jeffrey has always been just enough younger than I am to be truly annoying without being quite young enough to be cute. I remember watching Seth and his brother, Luke, across the street, building tree forts together and shooting baskets in their driveway, and feeling jealous that Jeffrey and I didn’t have that kind of relationship. But Luke was diagnosed with cancer when he was eleven and Seth was ten, and Seth’s world collapsed when he died. I don’t know if he’ll ever get over it. The black clothes, the amount of time he spends home, alone, practicing piano, his creative genius persona—I wonder how much of it is really him, and how much is a tough-guy act.

A pang of guilt hits me as Jeffrey swipes his too-long hair out of his eyes. I’m the big sister—I should try harder, make things better between us.

“Wow,” Mel murmurs, taking in the sparkling wood floors, pristine white furniture, and spectacular views of Lake Michigan that my dad is so proud of, although of course it’s Lila’s money that pays for it all. “This place gets better every time I see it.”

“Take a picture if you need to,” I say. “We’re leaving soon.”

“I’ll get my stuff.” Jeffrey heads down to the finished basement, which is where he prefers to sleep when he stays over here.

I follow the sound of obnoxious game show music to the kitchen, where my dad is leaning over the granite counter, eating a piece of toast with jam. He’s almost scarily skinny, his hair clipped and combed neatly, his shirt freshly ironed—still playing the perfect, nice-guy husband role for Lila. I’ve never heard him raise his voice in this house, which is pretty impressive considering that when he lived with us, it felt like he spent half his time yelling.

My two-year-old half-sister, Kaylee, is coloring at the table, and my stepmother, thankfully, is nowhere to be seen, although I’m sure she’s lurking somewhere close-by. Lila works from home in some marketing job that pays a lot of money, and I can count on two hands the number of times I’ve seen her leave the house. I’m not sure if it’s coincidence or if she’s just a big homebody or what. But I guess if my house looked like this, I wouldn’t have much motivation to leave it either.

My dad spreads more jam on his toast and blinks at me, looking dazed. “Veda!” he says finally, his eyes widening. “Hey! Didn’t know you were coming.” His eyes sweep over me quickly, head to toe, and I must look acceptable, because he smiles.

Then he wipes his hands on his pants and walks stiffly over to me, looping one arm around me in an awkward side hug and dropping a kiss on top of my head.

“Mom said Jeffrey wanted to be picked up,” I say, pulling away and bending over to grab Kaylee’s pink crayon as it drops off the table and falls to the floor. “So we’re leaving now. Bye.”

Kaylee catches my hand and smiles. “Vee!” she crows, drawing some lopsided circles. “Look! Look!”

“Very pretty,” I say, grinning down at her. I have a bunch of these scribbled-on papers tacked up over my mirror at home. I lean over and gently tug the elastic band from Kaylee’s soft hair, gathering up the strands that have fallen loose and redoing her ponytail. The feel of her tiny head under my fingers makes my breath catch in my throat. I have a ridiculous amount of love for this little pipsqueak.

She’s so absorbed in her coloring that she doesn’t even hear me when I say, “Bye, Kay. I’ll see you soon.”

I’m halfway down the hall by the time Dad yells, “Hey! Don’t you want to stay for lunch?”

“No, thanks!” I shout back. Mel folds her arms and pouts.

“Veda? Is that you?” Lila’s voice floats down the grand staircase.

I brace myself as she jogs down the stairs, her arms wide open for a hug before she even hits the landing. “Hi, Lila.”

“Hello!” Lila swoops in for what I call one of her bird hugs—the opposite of a bear hug. She leans in close to me and pats my back, her shoulder blades moving under her cardigan, her thin red hair in my face. How my dad fell for timid Lila after being married to my tall, strong, creative mother for thirteen years, I’ll never know.

“And Melinda’s here too!” Lila darts over to Mel and gathers her in for another delicate embrace. Dad wanders into the room, cleaning his glasses on the hem of his shirt and holding Kaylee’s hand.

Lila turns. “Barry! You didn’t tell me the girls were coming over.”

“I didn’t know,” he says, settling his glasses back on his face and giving Lila’s elbow a little squeeze. “Good timing, though.”

I glance at Mel and cross my arms. “Why good timing?”

Dad shakes his head. “Let’s wait for Jeffrey to come up.”

“Jeffrey!” I yell at the top of my lungs. Lila winces. “Hurry up!”

“I can’t find my DS!” The house is so enormous that I can barely hear his reply.

Mel nudges me and points to the couch, where the little electronic thing Jeffrey spends half his life attached to is sticking out from under a pillow. “It’s up here, Jeffrey!”

Lila’s eye twitches, and Dad leans over and lifts Kaylee into his arms.

Jeffrey thunders up the stairs, tilting his head back so he can see out from underneath his long bangs. Grabbing the DS off the couch, he shoves it into his backpack and makes a face at Kaylee, who giggles. “Okay, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

“Hold it,” Dad says. “Let’s just stop the stampede for one moment.” He takes a deep breath, and I can see him start to get annoyed, the edges of the easy-to-anger person he used to be when he lived with us rising up from the carefully sanded veneer of the person he’s become with Lila.

“Um, should I go wait in the car?” Mel asks.

“No.” Dad waves his hand and takes a deep breath. “You’re fine, Melinda. This will only take a second.”

“Okay . . .” Mel pulls out her phone and pretends to text, but I know she’s covertly taking photos of my dad’s mansion to post to Instagram with captions like
OMG, MY DREAM HOUZZZ
.

“I’ll keep it short and sweet,” Dad says, clapping his hands together. “We have two family events this summer I’m counting on you guys to attend. The first one is in just a couple of weeks, at the end of June. Lila is throwing a big party for her work friends here at the house. And then we’ve got the family reunion next month, the day after Kaylee’s birthday.”

Shit, shit, shit.
“I can’t go,” I blurt out, my mind racing to follow up with a
reason
I won’t be able to go—to both events.

“Oh no?” Dad cocks one eyebrow. “And why is that?”

“I was really hoping you could make the reunion, Veda,” Lila says, her eyes wide. She takes Kaylee from my dad and settles her on her hip. “I thought you could introduce me to everyone. It might be a little nerve-wracking.” Her tight smile shows exactly how anxious she is about the idea of meeting my dad’s entire family for the first time.

“Uh, well, I’ll probably be working,” I say, avoiding Lila’s eyes. “For the party and the reunion. I’m looking for a job right now. I don’t know if I’ll be able to get off.” I mentally shake myself. It’s going to take a better argument than that to get Dad off my back.

I take a deep breath and reach into my well of bullshit, the one I draw on in debate competitions when I have to elaborate on a point I hadn’t prepared an argument for. “You know, I wouldn’t want my employer to doubt my commitment. Even summer jobs can be important when it comes to résumés and college applications, Dad. My boss this summer could end up writing me a reference for my first real job.”

Dad sighs and gives me a look that says he’s on to my strategy. “We should think about getting you an internship this summer, not just a minimum-wage chimp gig. Have you asked at the law offices in town? I’m sure they’d love to have an aspiring lawyer in a few days a week to file and answer the phone, maybe do some job shadowing.”

Offhandedly mentioning to my dad that I want to go to law school someday was one of the worst decisions I’ve ever made. He has gotten so attached to the idea that, God forbid I ever change my mind and decide I want to do something else, his brain might explode trying to process it.

“Whatever. We’ll see what happens.” I cross my arms. “Is that all you wanted to tell us?”

“Yes,” Dad says. “And job or no job, I expect you and your brother to be at the party
and
the reunion.” He pushes his glasses up on his nose and adds, “And of course you’re invited too, Mel.”

Before Mel can accept the invitations and get tangled up in the web of passive-aggressiveness being spun between me and my father, I hold out my hand to Kaylee for a high five and grab Mel’s elbow, hustling her out the door. “Okay, bye!” I yell over my shoulder.

Mel sighs and tucks her phone into her pocket as we hurry down the cobblestone path. “I wish we could hang out over here more often. Are your dad and Lila going on vacation this summer? Do they need a house sitter?”