I can’t stop a giggle. “Okay, I know that sounds crazy. But it’s weird, okay? He’s a total stranger.”
“Yeah, and he’s gonna stay that way as long as you keep avoiding him.” She wrinkles her nose. “Don’t you want to get to know him? I mean, he’s your dad.”
“I know.” I chew on my bottom lip. “I tried to be open-minded when he showed up at school on Monday and insisted we spend the day together, but all he did was talk about himself. For hours. It was like he didn’t even notice I was there.”
“He was probably nervous,” she suggests. “I bet this is hard for him, too. He comes back from the dead and finds out he has a kid? Anyone would have a hard time with that.”
“I guess.” I unlock the doors. “Anyway, you may leave now, milady. I need to head home and get ready for the game,” I say in a tired voice.
Val snickers. “Careful, girl. Your enthusiasm is so contagious I might do cartwheels all the way to my front door.” She pulls on the door handle and hops out of the car, then taps the doorframe and grins at me. “Good luck tonight.”
“Thanks,” I answer.
I have a feeling I’m going to need it.
* * *
There is an ocean of space around us. An ocean.
All week, I’ve seen kids at school whispering about Reed, but I didn’t think those whispers would extend to Callum. Callum Royal has always seemed untouchable to me—confident and in control, a captain of industry who everyone sucks up to. The last time he came to a game, there was a ton of sucking up. Every other second, a parent stopped him to chat about something.
Tonight, Callum is getting the silent treatment. We all are—me, Steve, and the twins. We’re sitting in the stands in the row right above the home team bench, and everyone around us is sneaking peeks in our direction. I can feel their accusatory gazes boring into the back of my head.
And as uncomfortable as it is for me, it’s a million times worse for Reed. He can’t play tonight because he still has stitches in his side from the stabbing orchestrated by Daniel Delacorte. He’s benched for another week, but he’s still expected to stand on the sidelines.
I wish he could sit up in the stands with us. I hate how alone he looks right now. And I hate that people keep whispering and pointing at him.
“That’s the Royal boy,” some woman hisses loud enough for all of us to hear. “I can’t believe they let him come here tonight.”
“It’s shameful,” another parent agrees. “I don’t want him around my Bradley!”
“Someone needs to talk to Beringer about this,” a male voice ominously chimes in.
I wince. So does Callum. Beside me, Steve seems totally unconcerned by all the negative attention. As usual, he’s talking my ear off, this time about some European trip he’s planning for us. I don’t know if us means me and him, or if that includes Dinah, too. Either way, I’m not interested in going on a trip with him, even if he is my father. He still makes me so nervous.
The funny thing is, I can totally see why my mom was drawn to him. In the week he’s been back, he’s been filling out. His face is no longer gaunt, and his clothes are actually starting to fit his lean, muscular frame. Steve O’Halloran is decent looking—for a dad—and his blue eyes always hold this boyish twinkle. Mom had a thing for the playful types, and Steve definitely fits that bill.
But as his daughter, and not someone who’s romantically interested in him, I think the boyish act is kind of annoying. He’s a grown-up. Why doesn’t he act like one?
“You’re sulking,” Sawyer murmurs in my ear.
I snap out of my thoughts and turn to the younger Royal. “No, I’m not,” I lie, before looking past his shoulder. “Where’s Lauren?” Technically, Lauren is Sawyer’s girlfriend, so she’s usually his date for these types of things.
“Grounded,” he answers with a sigh.
“Aw. Why?”
“She got caught sneaking out to meet me and—” He stops when he notices Steve listening in. “Me,” he finishes. “Just me.”
I hide a grin. I don’t get Lauren Donovan at all, but I think it’s kind of ballsy that she’s so open to dating two boys. I can barely handle one.
Speaking of my one, Reed looks miserable on the sidelines. His gaze is glued to the touchdown zone. Or the end zone? I can’t remember what it’s called. No matter how many times Reed and Easton try to teach me how the game works, I still don’t like or care about football.
I can tell Reed is upset that he’s not out there with his teammates. The defense is on the field—I know this only because one of the blue-and-gold jerseys down there reads “ROYAL.” Easton is lined up in front of an opponent. I see his mouth moving behind his facemask, which tells me he’s making some smartass comment.