Andrew’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Yes, sir,” he croaked then his eyes found mine. “I’m sorry, Katie. Thanks for the ice cream.”
I smiled warmly and gave him a hug, despite the fact I could tell he didn’t want me to. “That’s okay, Drews—it’s already forgotten.”
“Hey!” Andrew simultaneously broke from the awkwardness and my grasp. “Can we please take a ride in the Hummer today? You said we could, remember?”
“It’s okay with me,” I agreed, “but you have to ask the owner of the Hummer first.”
Andrew’s face brightened. “Can we, Pete? I mean may we please take a ride in your Hummer?”
“Yeah, I mean yes, sir. Can we pwease take a ride in the Hummer?” seconded Mikey, who was in the midst of his rendition of an irresistible face.
Pete laughed and reached down to hoist Mikey back up. “You can save the hard sell for another time, bud. I said I would. And we’ll do it—just as soon as your sister helps me finish my ice cream.” His smile scorched me, and I felt warm in places I oughtn’t to feel warm in the presence of my brothers.
“Nice lens, by the way,” Pete commented, throwing his free arm over my shoulder. We leaned against his truck trading licks of creamy sweetness. And I swear: I got the strongest sensation he was as happy in that moment as I was.
20
GOOD FEELING GONE
The ride around the parking lot, turned into a ride around the block, which turned into a ride around the town. By the time we circled back, it was way past time to go home. So we skedaddled back, driving through a fiery sun melting into the endless highway. A pleasant hum escaped my lips as I replayed the—ahem—pleasant afternoon I’d spent with Pete. I did this while simultaneously listening to the boys’ rendition of their afternoon. The instant replay and laughter indicated the extent to which everyone had a good time.
Felt really good to have a good time, yunno? I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt . . . dare I say it—happy.
I stopped off at Mrs. Hildebrand’s for milk and then at the mailbox, still halfway dreaming about the very dreamy Peter Davenport. While sorting through the mail, my fingers came across a familiar envelope. My humming ceased like someone clamped a hand over my mouth.
Good feeling gone.
I easily extracted it from the rest of the junk mail, because it stood out like Cadet Davenport did from the rest of the high school students—glossy and of much higher quality. The parcel even managed to arrive from two states away to land in this dilapidated mailbox without a smudge, dent, or crease. It positively reeked of money and prestige. I hated it immediately.
Was it simply the green-eyed monster in me creating these ill feelings?
I immediately dismissed the idea. No, it ran much deeper than that. It was an evil feeling that overcame me every time I thought of that academy. The visceral feeling only intensified the closer I was in proximity to the paperwork. Why is that?
I’d been on autopilot, so completely forgot about the fact that Daddy wanted me to let him get the mail from now on. But do I want to let him get his hands on it? I debated how much trouble I would be in. Heaps.
Andrew leaned forward. “Is that The Academy paperwork?”
“Yup,” I replied, shuffling it back in with the other mail.
“Awesome! Pete’s been askin’ me if we received it yet. He said if not, then he could just print him a copy or have Daddy sign right on his computer and shoot it back to The Academy right away.”
“How helpful of him.” I noticed he referred to that . . . place using the same language as Pete now.
“That’s his job, Kate,” Andrew pointed out.
“Right.” And to keep me out of the loop. I thought back to our encounters and realized that he’d mostly avoided talking about his academy with me at all. Impressive Cadet Davenport. I mentally kicked myself for my lost opportunity this afternoon. What had happened to my fact-finding mission? I’d been too busy having fun to bother asking questions.
How remiss of me. Or how clever of him.
I hissed out some self-loathing. I was letting Mama down. This was the exact scenario she was afraid of. And I was doing nothing more than sitting back and watching it unfold right before my very eyes. Too wrapped up in a romantic interlude with one of their cadets to actually fight against them taking over my family like a nest of hornets feasting on honeycomb.
“Can I see it?” Andrew asked with the reverence one used for a rare artifact.
I thought of those metal detectors and that bogus excuse of using them for Indian arrowheads. They thought I was stupid. I thought of Pete saying the mission would be like “taking candy from a baby.” They thought I was easy. A burn started in my stomach. I thought of my wanton behavior in the park . . . They thought I was a country bimbo. The burn worked its way up to my chest.
I didn’t hesitate further. “Here ya go, Drews.” I tossed the envelope behind me. “Knock yourself out.”
“Yeah!” He actually fist-pumped before tearing into it like a birthday present.
Daddy would be furious he opened it without his permission, but Andrew would most likely not be punished as severely as me for disobeying his orders. I decided it was worth the risk to see what was inside. Knowledge was power, and I got the distinct feeling I was being left in the Dark Ages.
“Anything interestin’ in there?” I asked.
“Ah . . . yeah.” Andrew was already perusing the materials inside, oblivious to all else.
“Wemember, you gotta say yes, sir,” Mikey corrected.
Nobody responded to that, and we drove the rest of the way in silence. As soon as I cut the engine, Blue jumped on my window, his barks and whines as impatient as my curiosity. I was about eaten up with it, so I turned around to stare at my brother’s face as he silently read. The mental wheels were turning feverishly in his mind.
“Well?”
“Um.” Andrew’s eyes found mine. “What’s a stipend?”
My heart speeded up. “Why do you ask?”
“Because we’re gettin’ one in the sum of . . .”—he unfolded a blue check that dropped from the envelope—“two thousand dollars.” Andrew’s brows knitted together. “Why are they giving us money? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”
Mikey whooped, thrashing his feet against the seat. “Two thousand dollars! We’re wich!”
I snatched the check from Andrew’s hand. “Lemme see that!” My eyes quickly scanned down. Under for: endowment was written in elegant script. Endowment? Well I guess they couldn’t exactly put down bribe. I dropped the dang thing like it was hot. Seemed like it was messengered straight from hell. What could this possibly mean for our family? And then the burning question came: Had Pete, our IEA ambassador, put them up to it?
I felt an unpleasant jolt. It made sense. He knew things were tight for us, and that I was less than enthusiastic about the prospect of my brother joining their ranks. Does he think greasing the wheels would get us moving faster to the finish line? After all, I distinctly remember him saying that if Ranger hadn’t of ruined everything then he would’ve been out of here in a week or two—tops.