Читать онлайн «Right»

“That’s between your mother and Everly. I stay out of it,” Dad tells him as he kisses my forehead. “You look lovely, princess,” he says to me. “Be good and don’t wear yourself out tonight. You don’t want to fall asleep again during the football game tomorrow.”

Ugh. I see Eric smirking at me from the corner of my eye but I ignore him.

“What are you guys doing?” I nod to the chairs.

“Mom’s donating our old table set to Finn’s new apartment.” Eric slaps Finn on the back. “He got a job at Penn. This fool is going to be teaching the future of America.”

“I don’t know about the future of America, buddy. A few thousand Economics students, maybe.” Finn shrugs and it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. He’s grown up, I realize. He’s filled out. Not the skinny high school boy I remember. He’s fit, with a runner’s physique, and I remember that he ran cross-country for Summit High School.

I joined cross-country freshman year. It was the worst afternoon of my high-school life. So we aren’t going to be one of those couples who jog together. No biggie.

They head out the door with the dining chairs as I turn to Chloe. “Well, looks like we’re going to Penn. College decision done.”

“Well, one of us has the transcript for Penn,” she says slowly, wrinkling her nose at me.

“Ugh. How hard could it be?” I eye the door, hoping for another glimpse of Finn.

Chloe pinches the bridge of her nose. “It’s Ivy League, Everly.”

“So I’ll Legally Blonde myself together.”

“Good plan. You remember how that movie ended, don’t you?”

I nod. “She gets the guy.”

“Not the guy she got into law school for.”

Humph. Sometimes Chloe is just so literal. “It’s an outline, Chloe. We can edit as we go.”

There’s a commotion at the door as Tim and Dave arrive, followed by Dad, Eric and Finn. I check Finn’s face for jealousy. Nope. None. Tim’s eyes bug out when he sees me though, which mollifies me slightly. Eric slaps a firm hand on his shoulder and leans in, I assume to threaten him. Meanwhile, Dave shuffles over to Chloe with an awkward hello. She is never getting laid.

“Pictures!” Mom emerges from the kitchen with her professional-grade camera. She’s a middle-school librarian, not a photographer. I’m not sure which she loves more—slicing open a new case of books for the library shelves, or documenting her children’s milestones on film.

She named us after the authors of her favorite children’s books. She even decorated both of our nurseries in honor of our namesakes. I know this because there are pictures.

It’s junior year. I know the drill by now. The sooner we take the obligatory shots, the sooner we can leave for the dance. I grab Tim’s hand and lead him to the fireplace. Mom loves this shot. Behind her Eric is doing the universal, “I’m watching you,” gesture, pointing two fingers from his eyes to Tim’s. “Ignore him,” I tell Tim. “Smile for my mom so we can get out of here.”