“They’re all going to accept you,” I said quietly.
“Not true. I’ve been slacking on my independent study and Ms. Dopiko has still not written my recommendation—and I might have overestimated my AP load, and I don’t know how I’ll do on the exams. I might not get into my top schools.”
“Well, if that’s true, I don’t have a prayer,” I said.
“Well, maybe you should work on that now before it’s too late,” Daniel said, staring straight ahead.
“Maybe that wouldn’t be so hard if I were a genius like my older brother.”
“You’re as smart as I am. You just don’t work as hard.”
I opened my mouth to protest but my brother cut me off.
“It’s not just about the grades. What are you going to put on your college résumé? You don’t do drama. Or music. Or the newspaper. Or sports. Or—”
“I draw.”
“Well, do something with it. Enter some contests. Win some awards. And rack up other organizations, they need to see that you’re well—”
“God, Daniel. I know, okay? I know.”
We drove the rest of the way home in silence, but I felt guilty and broke it when we pulled into the driveway. “What’s Sophie doing this weekend?” I asked.
“Dunno,” Daniel said as he slammed his door. Fabulous. Now he was in a pissy mood too.
I walked into the house and went to the kitchen to rummage for food, while Daniel disappeared into his room, probably to limn the contours of some exquisite constellation of philosophical nonsense for his internship applications and gasp in the throes of his overachieving OCDness. I, meanwhile, mulled over a bleak future starring myself as a New York sidewalk sketch artist living off of ramen noodles and squatting in Alphabet City because I didn’t have any extracurricular activities. Then the phone rang, interrupting my thoughts. I picked it up.
“Hello?”
“Tell your husband to drop the case,” someone whispered on the other end of the line. So low I wasn’t even sure I’d heard correctly.
But my heart thundered in my chest anyway. “Who is this?”
“You’ll be sorry.” The caller hung up.
I broke into a cold sweat and my mind went blank. When Daniel walked into the kitchen, I was still holding the phone, long after the dial tone went dead.
“What are you doing?” he asked as he passed me on his way to the fridge.
I didn’t answer him. I checked the call history and scanned for the last one that came in. My mother’s office, two hours ago. No record of any calls after that. What time was it now? I checked the clock on the microwave—twenty minutes had passed. I’d been standing there, holding the phone, for twenty minutes. Did I delete the call? Was there even a call?
“Mara?”
I turned to Daniel.
“Yeesh,” he said, taking a step back. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Or heard one.
I ignored him and took out my cell on the way to my room. I’d taken my pill this morning, just like I had every morning since the art show. But if the phone call was real, why wasn’t it showing up in the call history?
Freaked out, I dialed my father just in case. He picked up on the second ring.
“I have a question,” I blurted before even saying hello.
“What’s up, kid?”
“If you wanted to drop the case now, would you be able to?” My father paused on the other end of the line. “Mara, are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. Just an academic question,” I said. And it was kind of true. For now.
“Okaaay. Well, it’s highly unlikely the judge would allow a substitution of counsel at this point. In fact, I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t allow it.”
My heart sank. “How did the other lawyer get out of the case?”
“The client agreed to have me step in, otherwise Nathan would have been out of luck.”
“And your client wouldn’t let you back out now?”
“Doubtful. It would screw things up for him pretty badly. And the judge wouldn’t let it happen—she’d have me sanctioned if I pulled something like that. Mara,” he said, “are you sure you’re all right? I meant to ask you about therapy last week but I got tied—”
He thought this was about him. About him not being here.
“Yeah. I’m fine,” I said, as convincingly as I could.
“When’s your next appointment?”
“Next Thursday.”
“Okay. I gotta go, but we’ll catch up on your birthday, all right?”
I paused. “You’ll be home Saturday?”