She’s making a turkey.
“I don’t want to intrude,” I start, but she jerks her head up, her gaze imploring.
“Please intrude. I’m dying for you to intrude. It’s so boring at the Newport house. We used to spend the summers there all the time, but after the divorce, now we only go there for Thanksgiving. Mother and Father always spend the holiday together with all of us.”
My mouth pops open. “I thought they were divorced.”
Sylvie concentrates on her turkey once more. “Mother is always saying my father needs to think of the children. As if we’re still a perfect little family unit when Mummy and Daddy are under the same roof. Please. It’s more like she wants to pretend they’re still together. Their divorce is a giant stain on her social status.”
Her voice is laced with bitterness.
“What does your family do for Christmas?”
She lifts her head. “Father draws the line at Christmas. He never spends it with us anymore. He always goes on an exotic vacation with his girlfriend of the month. Since their divorce, he’s living it up, and I suppose I can’t blame him.”
“What about the rest of your family?” I ask.
“Oh. We spend the holidays in Manhattan usually. The city is alive during Christmas. It’s my favorite time of year.”
“It’s beautiful during the holidays,” I agree absently, my mind racing with the possibilities. Is it crazy to contemplate going with Sylvie so I can possibly be near Whit? Though why would I want to torture myself like that? And would he be angry that I showed up during his family vacation, or would he be glad to see me?
I’m going for the former. After our last encounter, I’m sure he’s absolutely sick of my shit. Just as I’m sick of his.
“So? What do you say?” I look up to find Sylvie watching me. “It’ll be the perfect distraction.”
“For what?”
“For me. I need someone to spend time with. Lina is too busy dancing all the time. She’s in London and can’t get away. Even if she did come to Newport, she’s not the same. She’s never up for hijinks anymore.” Such an odd, old-fashioned word, though I suppose it doesn’t sound all that odd, falling from Sylvie’s lips. “You could meet my father. Oh, now that would be a sight to see.”
She laughs, shaking her head, while I sit there, knowing exactly what she’s thinking.
Bring the daughter of the woman who destroyed the Lancaster marriage to Thanksgiving dinner. Gee, great.
“Sylvie. Are you using me to upset your parents?” I ask calmly.
Her eyes widen and she rests her hand against her chest. “I would never. I genuinely enjoy your company, Summer. You know this.”
“It’s rather convenient, bringing me for Thanksgiving break, when both of your parents will be there,” I say, feeling the slightest bit played. “I don’t want to be used as a tool to get back at them.”
“Oh come on, why not? What’s the harm in it? My mother will be so furious.” She throws her head back and laughs, the most joyous sound I think I’ve ever heard come out of her. I watch her, the incessant shushing coming from Miss Taylor as background music, until finally her laughter slows. Fades. Her eyes still dance though. “My father will try to sleep with you.”
My mouth pops open. “Disgusting.”
“Are you eighteen yet?” Sylvie raises a delicate brow.
I squirm in my seat, not wanting to admit this, but she’s giving me no choice. “Um, I will be.”
“Of course you will,” she says, like I’m a stupid child. “But when? Soon?”
“Tomorrow, actually.” I’ve kept it quiet. No one cares about my birthday at this school. No one cares about my birthday anywhere, not even my mother. She hasn’t mentioned it. Not once.
And I’m her only child.
How could she forget?
“No,” Sylvie breathes. “Tomorrow? Oh my God, we must celebrate! This is so wild! You know who else’s birthday it is tomorrow?” I shrug, confused. “Oh, you’re never going to believe it!”
Her voice is so loud, Miss Taylor actually recognizes it. “Sylvie Lancaster, be quiet!”
“Oh shut it, you old hag,” Sylvie mumbles under her breath, making us both laugh.
My laughter fades quickly though. I don’t know who she could be referring to, but something tells me I should already know.
“Who do I share a birthday with?” I ask, curiosity eating at me. Maybe it’s Spencer, Sylvie’s not-so-secret crush, though she hasn’t even mentioned his name once since Halloween.
Could it be her little sister? The mysterious dancing Carolina? Oh God, I hope it’s not her father. That would probably make things worse, since she said he would most definitely hit on me if I was of legal age.
“Like I said, you’re never going to believe it. Like ever.” Sylvie pauses for full effect, a giant grin on her face. My heart races, pounding uncontrollably as I wait for her to say it. “It’s Whit. He’s turning eighteen tomorrow too.”
Twenty-Seven
Summer
The Friday before break and Lancaster Prep drops all pretense of being a place of learning. Half the student body is already gone, many of them on a jet to an amazing trip, all of them wanting to get an “early start of it.” I woke up at seven and stared out my window at all of the cars in the nearby parking lot as they came and went, parents picking up their children with smiles on their faces. Some of them scowl. Some of them send servants in place of themselves, a few of them escorting sulky girls and annoyed boys into gleaming black Mercedes.
I press my hand against the glass, wondering where they’re all going. Wishing I could leave too.
Then I remember I am leaving, and it’s a giddy, blissful feeling, mixed with swirling dread. Escaping this campus for a week sounds like a true vacation.
Spending the entire week with Whit and his family?
Absolutely terrifying.
This is the dumbest thing I think I’ve ever done in my life, and I’ve done a lot of dumb things. I tried to tell Sylvie it was a bad idea, but she was persistent. She didn’t want to go home alone, and she reassured me Whit wouldn’t be around much. I’m sure once he realizes I’m there, he’ll believe I accompanied Sylvie to be close to him, when that isn’t true.
I’d rather face Whit’s fury than spend the holiday week alone at Lancaster Prep, depressed and feeling abandoned.
It’ll be okay. I can handle spending the week with the Lancasters. I’ll have Sylvie. She says their house is so huge, I probably won’t even run into Whit.
Perfect.
There’s a knock at my door and I frown, checking the time on my phone. It’s barely seven-thirty. I go to the door and unlock it, then slowly crack it open.
It’s Sylvie, perfectly dressed in her uniform, not a hair out of place, and a smile on her face. “Happy Birthday!” she says, holding a white bag in front of her.
“Thank you,” I say with a faint smile, opening the door wider so she can come in. “What do you have?”
“Open it and see,” she says excitedly, handing over the bag before she walks into my dorm room. She stops short, glancing around. “There’s still nothing in here.”