I growled in my throat. “Is goin’ to homecomin’ with Ron Tillman a direct order?”
“You know what? I’m tryin’ to do somethin’ nice for my daughter and gettin’ spit in the eye for my trouble.” Daddy glowered down at my defiant face a moment before snatching back the cash. “Suit yerself . . . you can work yerself to the poor house down there at Norma’s for all I care. If yer too stupid to take advantage of a golden opportunity like this, then I’ve raised up a fool of a daughter . . . and you’ll reap what you sow.”
And so will you I wanted to spit, but kept my mouth firmly clamped as Daddy stuffed the cash back in his wallet, tossed it onto the coffee table, and sank down onto his reclining thrown. He released the bar to kick his feet back up. “Get to bed,” he dismissed, clicking the TV back on. “Mornin’ comes early.”
I stomped off to my room in an even fouler mood than before. Ronnie Tillman? Really? The best he thought I could do for myself in life was to marry a beefy, spoiled, small-town rich kid whose muscles would surely turn to fat the moment he quit playing football.
Storming around the room, alternately flinging clothes into drawers and my closet, I wondered if he was right. Is becoming Mrs. Ronnie Tillman my best option? My stomach turned over every time I pictured the blank canvass that was my future: living in the trailer with my brothers and Daddy’s tyranny, starting on the basics at junior college, then driving thirty miles to Portales to get my four-year degree from ENMU. I imagined myself going to classes during the day and working nights at the diner. Shuddered at the very bleak picture.
A glint of navy caught my eye. It was the jacket Pete gave me the night they’d been following me. It was juxtaposed in the closet next to a beat-up, old denim one. I thought of Pete and his glossy world. I thought of my dreary life waiting tables and taking English 101 at the JUCO in a couple of years.
Ugh! It wasn’t that I thought I was too good for that life. I didn’t think I was better than anybody else, except for that Ranger character, I thought scathingly. But if you really wanna know the truth—deep down, I always felt more like a Thoroughbred than a workhorse. I understood Andrew’s frustration and resentment. He did belong in the world of the elite. Just not that Elite Academy. Come hell or high water, I was still determined to prevent him from going.
Maybe I needed to rethink my strategy? So far, I was getting shoddy results and punishing myself in the process. Daddy was half a wink away from signing up, and Pete was barely acknowledging my presence anymore. Perhaps I should go back to the old adage: Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Instead of pushing Pete away this whole time, maybe I should’ve been trying to draw him in closer, see if I could get him to reveal his secrets. This new plan would certainly be a whole lotfunner anyway.
Using feminine wiles seemed to have worked for Mama with Daddy, and it seemed to be working in Ashley-Leigh’s favor. I mean it had gotten her pretty far so far. (A pang pierced my heart when I thought of her going the distance.) Maybe I should give it a go, too?
Thinking along these lines, I reevaluated tomorrow’s ensemble like I was arming myself for war. Since the fallout with Pete, I’d gone back to my regular, drab clothes because it fit my mood. I reopened my jean drawer and peered inside. Only three pairs, and that included my old work jeans. I pulled them back out for consideration. They were faded and even had a couple of tiny tears in the leg where the fabric had worn thin. I only wore them around the ranch because they were so tight Daddy would never let me out the door in them. I understood why a little more now after remembering Pete’s gaze lingering on me in the pasture . . . He seemed to approve of the country look on me.
Technically, I was forbidden to wear jeans to school at all. Since I was breaking house rules anyway, I decided to go for broke. So I set them out, along with one of my button-downs. I could do nothing about the boxy shape except maybe tie it into a knot around my waist. Last out I pulled a pair of clean socks to wear with my trusty-dusty boots. I headed to the shower whistling, the smile of a Cheshire cat spreading my lips.
Vigorously, is how I shampooed and conditioned my hair. My legs were meticulously shaved then oiled up with lotion as though they were due for inspection. Usually I just went to bed with wet hair and brushed it out in the morning, too tired to bother trying to style it. But tonight, I took the time to blow dry it ruler-straight. It was time for me to bring my “A” game. So on the agenda for tomorrow afternoon, was a little side trip to Walmart; it was time for some overdue shopping.
I went to bed dreaming of what I could’ve bought with that hundred dollars Daddy handed me.
30
CATCHING FLIES
Homecoming was exactly one week away. Reminders, in the royal color, littered the halls, and announcements from perky cheerleaders made the morning announcements. Everyone was buzzing with up-to-the-minute reports of who was going with whom. It was first hour, so all the hubbub was on mute for me.
I’d arrived early to avoid Ron and to zip out a quick email to Reese. She kept asking what was going on with Andrew and his cute mentor, as if she were really intrigued. I’d mentioned before that Pete had lied to me, explaining the situation as best I could without divulging my strong intuition that his academy was really some secret organization trying to snatch my little brother up for . . . God-only-knew what purpose.
I didn’t want her to think I was weird. Or a witch, or anything like that. I always went for normal. I’d simply stated their ambassador was too good to be true, and leaving town soon anyway, so wasn’t worth the effort. She immediately responded back with a: Maybe it was just a misunderstanding? And said I should definitely give him a second chance, because he was probably just trying to impress me. I snorted. As if. It was kinda hard to describe Pete on paper. He was like a miracle—you’d need to see to believe. Calling him cute was like calling the devil bad.
Reese also suggested again that a nice boarding school with a good reputation would be a good place for Andrew, and I should consider giving him my blessing if he wanted to go. That niggled me for some reason, though I didn’t dwell on it too much. I mean . . . she was in the dark. Actually, it was sweet of her to care. I knew she couldn’t get it—her life was probably the demon-free kind.
The thought of losing Andrew was enough to put me into a tailspin. My brothers were all that I had in life. All that mattered . . . until Pete crashed into my life. I bit my lip. My desire for him hadn’t waned one bit with the knowledge he was a con artist. It felt like I was suffering from a sickness, and it seemed to have spread like wildfire through the entire student body, turning friend into foe and even brother against sister. I fervently prayed that Andrew would change his mind and wait for Ivy League.
The latest gossip hadn’t caught up with me until I reached third-hour English. I could tell something was up right away, because a smug-looking Ashley-Leigh and Madison were jawing away in the area around my desk. I started to automatically tune them out, taking out my notes to unnecessarily go over before the quiz.
“Pete’s been droppin’ hints all week about special plans this Friday,” Ashley-Leigh said so loudly she may as well have shouted it in my ear.
I had to admit—she got my attention. If not, her skirt would’ve. Didn’t know they sold spandex in fuchsia.