and Parker appears. Charlie shakes his head, then stops once he notices his father looking."Parker and I are playing doubles today at the club."The comment enters the air for everyone's--or no one's--benefit.
Charlie purses his lips. He's different, subdued, as though he's blocked a certain part of himself here."Have fun."
"And you, Charles?" Mr. Addison places his glass on the tray where it drips condensation.
Charlie doesn't look my way and it hits me that I feel like an intruder. They've been pleasant, of course--what else does one do in polite company but offer the random girl a lemonade on a hot day--but not welcoming. Not that I expected an embrace or anything, but a little curios ity aside from my school application would be nice.With a shudder I realize I never clarified why I didn't interview at Hadley--not because my records were so stellar like they now suspect--but because of my dad. Something tells me they'd be even less impressed if they knew I didn't get in on my own merits. Not that I haven't been succeeding of my own accord there.
"I have work," Charlie says. I fight a smile, thinking of him at the docks, where I first met him--how at ease he is
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by the water. How much fun we have together--enough so that even cleaning his boat is exciting.
I try to act lively, realizing the beer and the nerves have kept me from being my usual warm self. Just because they're slightly cold doesn't mean I have to be, right? "Are you going to the docks? What's the catch of the day?" I put my hand on Charlie's arm, enjoying the heat from his skin until he makes absolutely no move to touch me back. He doesn't go so far as to remove my hand from his forearm, but he doesn't register my touch at all.
Charlie stands up and looks at his parents and then to the house. "No. Not the docks." He looks at me, finally, his eyebrows raised so he looks just like his mother. "I'm done with all that."
All that? Like the ocean, the job he's had for a year, the rugged lifestyle he embraced is summed up as all that? "Oh." Here I am back to one-word sentences. Maybe that's why Parker says so little--there's not a lot of room for anything else, despite the high square footage count.
Charlie nods."With classes starting in late August I have only a few weeks to make up for lost time."
Mr. Addison nods, concurring with his body as well as his words. "Charles is making great headway." He makes it sound as though Charlie is a yacht conquering the seas. "And you? Have you picked a place?"
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For a second I don't know what he's talking about--then I realize he means college, as though choosing one and get ting accepted are as simple as picking a restaurant for dinner. "I'm not quite sure. . . ." I pause and look at the other people around me. In each pair of eyes I sense that I'm not supposed to offer up my true feelings, but that there's a correct an swer."I'm thinking about staying in the Northeast. . . ." This comes out of my mouth before I can rein the words back in. Maybe my psyche knows more than I thought.
"Whereabouts?" Mrs. Addison collects all of the glasses and holds the tray, unwavering, in her hands.
I swallow.The truth is that I have no idea. But this isn't what they're looking for in their son's girlfriend. So rather than complicating everything further, I just spit it out."Har vard, maybe?"
Mr. Addison smiles fully for the first time since I've met him. "Good girl!" He's so thrilled that I feel excited, too, even though it's not real and he called me good girl, which sounds like praise meant for a retriever. I smile back, feeling fraudulent and idiotic while he goes on."Mikayla went the city route but the boys know that the gods' honest truth is that the Crimson still reigns supreme. Not to mention there's the legacy to consider."
"My dad went there," I offer and it sounds like an apol ogy, or like I'm trying to prove something.
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"Fantastic choice." Mr. Addison