“My pleasure,” she said, and walked back the way they’d come.
Felix marched in the opposite direction. He had wasted enough time. He needed to focus on Harry’s future; more specifically, he needed to arrange a trip to Harvard. Harvard was the key to Harry’s future, just as Oxford had been the key to his.
TWENTY-FOUR
Would Dad be up for a driving lesson this weekend, or was he still pissed? Duh. Turned with a knife in his hand and snarled no when Harry offered to help with dinner. ’Course, he shouldn’t have suggested that it would be easier to chop the onion in the food processor. Dad 101: never make helpful suggestions.
As Max had said so eloquently at lunchtime, “You, my friend, are in some deep shit.”
Dad hadn’t spoken to him since last night. Questions about school, like “Do you have your lunch box?” didn’t count. Did he now have the Dad Situation as well as the Mom Situation?
Going to Sammie’s had probably been a mistake, but removing himself from the house had seemed the best plan. If he’d stayed, he might have thrown out something far worse than Nazi neat freak. Thing is, he wasn’t angry anymore. Dumping on Dad had been surprisingly liberating. But worth it? Hell, no. The tension in the house was now heavier than southern humidity in August. With anyone else, he would have fallen on his sword. Apologized and been done. But this was Dad. The guy who’d taken to smashing heirloom glass. (Yeah, he’d uncovered the evidence in the garbage.)
Harry picked up a piece of graph paper from his desk, folded it into a paper plane, aimed it at the trash can. Yes!
If only he were outside shooting hoops, burning up megawatts of energy, but that meant walking through the dining room—the new Dad Work Zone. This Life Plan shit seemed to be a do-or-die deal, but weren’t they all? And now that Dad’s work had crept into the house, started taking over, everything felt prickly again. What had his psychologist said? “Behavioral contagion, Harry. Remember the mantra: this is not my stress.”
Harry bounced up. Valentine’s Day in two weeks, and he actually had someone to spend it with! If only he could get his license, he and Sammie could go on proper dates. He’d hated that her mom had to taxi them last night. Totally not fair on Mrs. Owen.
What could Eudora teach him to cook next? Mac and cheese, so he and Sammie could have a romantic dinner! For Mom’s welcome-home dinner, he was going to make french toast. Mom’s favorite! Their lives were so topsy-turvy—why not have breakfast for dinner? Dad had already given his approval—when he had actually been talking as opposed to grunting.
Harry grabbed his phone and texted Sammie: whatcha doing
English essay.
i <3 you
Me too.
bored
Work.
can’t
Go bother your dad, not me. ?
His stomach twisted. Was he bothering her? Did he text too much? Some of her replies were kinda short. But he did text her a lot. Like, all the time. Like, every few minutes when she didn’t answer him. Like, nonstop. Text less, Harry. But his fingers started magically typing again.
haha right we’re still only exchanging guy grunts
Apologize.
him first
Aren’t you always telling Max to apologize and move on when he’s ranting about his mom?
Then she sent him a heart emoticon, and he sighed his biggest love sigh and everything from his toes up tingled. Also: instant hard-on.