I didn’t get to talk to Madison and Steph after the game.
By the time ours was over, their game had started, and our bus was getting ready to leave. I couldn’t believe Coach didn’t want to stick around to check out the competition we’ll face this season. He probably has plans to spend the rest of his day checking Facebook.
The only good thing that happened is Alyson, the goalie, sat with me on the bus for a few minutes to say thanks for the good defense today. Even though she’d been kind of bitchy earlier, she seemed grateful for my efforts against Lynchburg. I told her she played awesome, saving twice as many goals as St. Andrew’s did against that team last year. When she moved to sit with the rest of the seniors in the back, I filled the silence by listening to music.
Later that afternoon, I find Dad sitting at his desk, typing on his computer. Both of his cell phones are beeping, and the TV is blaring Fox News. A squawking voice spills out of the speakerphone on his desk.
“Is that a parrot on the line?” I joke. “Hey, can we get a pa—”
“We’re not getting a parrot,” Dad replies. My parents know me and my animal obsession too well.
“Senator, we need to get out in front of this,” a voice on the phone says. “You have to make a statement about what happened. Remind people of your strong antidrug stance. Wallace’s people are just waiting for your poll numbers to go up again. Then they’ll leak something to the press about her drug use—”
“Perhaps she should go to rehab,” another voice fires back. “That’ll show how seriously you take this.”
“She doesn’t need rehab,” the other man retorts. “The tests found only nominal amounts of Adderall in her system and nothing else. We just need to make a statement!”
Dad looks horrified that I overheard all that and starts jabbing a button on the phone, turning the volume down. I can still hear them. Dad sighs and gives up trying to get the phone to cooperate. “Randy, Kevin, let me call you back,” my father says before hanging up.
Randy is Dad’s campaign manager, and Kevin is his chief of staff. It’s late on a Saturday afternoon, and all these people do is work. It sucks, but I get it. You either work hard, or you don’t succeed. Losing the election would not only leave Dad without a position, but all of the people in his DC, Nashville, and Chattanooga offices would lose their jobs too.
It makes me feel guilty that Dad and his guys have to give up their day off to talk about me. I’m the reason they’re doing damage control in the first place. At the same time, I hate that I’m a pawn in their political game. It’s humiliating.
I sit down in the armchair across from Dad. He looks at me with a tired expression. Campaign season always runs him down, making his hair turn grayer and the wrinkles around his eyes more pronounced. Campaigning is worth it to him though. Hardly anyone knows the president asked him to be Secretary of the Treasury, but Dad turned him down. He prefers being a senator so he can set his own agenda and focus on what he thinks is best for Tennessee, like the farm bill and tax policy. He loves his job.
“How was the soccer game?” he asks.
“We lost. It’s every girl for herself out there. Nobody passes the ball.”
His mouth fades into a frown. “Maybe you can figure out a way to lead the team.”
“But I’m not the captain.”
“It’s just a title…you don’t need that in order to lead,” Dad says. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it today.”
“Me too,” I mutter. “It would’ve been a perfect campaigning opportunity. But you probably don’t want to remind voters we’re related.”
“Taylor!” Dad pauses to rub his eyes. “This situation is already hard enough without your attitude. What did you need? I have to call the guys back.”
“Can I apply to Webb?” I ask.
Webb is a boarding school about an hour from here. I don’t know anyone there, but I feel like I might fit in better than at Hundred Oaks.
Dad scrunches his forehead. “Why?”
“They have a better soccer team.”
He turns his attention back to his computer. “I’m not paying tuition for another boarding school.”
“I checked their website. They offer scholarships to students with outstanding grades and test scores. I figure it’s worth a shot to see if they’d be interested in having me.”
The determination in my voice gets his attention. He swivels in his chair to face me. He doesn’t speak for a long moment. “I’m sorry, but no. You’re staying right here where your mother and I can keep an eye on you. If I’d known the sorts of…activities you were involved in, I never would’ve let you stay at St. Andrew’s.”
“Webb has more AP courses and a debate team,” I say, my voice taking on a desperate tone. “I think if I go there, I’ll have a better chance of getting into Yale.”
“You should’ve thought of that before becoming involved with drugs.” Dad rubs his eyes again. “I still don’t understand. You’ve never shown any interest in…in that lifestyle.”
“I needed to stay awake and study,” I say quietly.
“All the more reason for you to stay here and go to Hundred Oaks. It should be more manageable for you.”
I shut my eyes. All my hard work. Years and years of pushing myself. All down the drain, because people never notice good news. They flock to the bad.
“You’ve been seeing the school counselor, right?” Dad asks quietly, his gaze meeting mine.
I’m insulted he has to ask. I look him straight in the eyes when I respond, “Yes.”
“Good.”
I stand up. “What time are we leaving for the Goodwins’ party?” Mr. Goodwin, a millionaire horse-farm owner, is hosting his annual Tennessee Harvest party and most definitely invited lots of people Dad will need to schmooze with in advance of the November election. It’s only a little more than a month away. “I saw the invite on the kitchen counter.”
Dad clicks his pen on and off. “Why don’t you sit this one out.” It’s not a question.
“But I love going to the Goodwins’. I haven’t seen Jack in forever.”
“Randy and Kevin are worried people will learn you got kicked out of school.”
“People already know. It was on Facebook.”
“We don’t want the news to spread any further. You need to keep a low profile, or this could turn into a scandal, which would damage my campaign.”
“Me getting kicked out of school a scandal? C’mon. That’s nothing compared to what the governor’s son did. I mean, Simon got drunk and streaked through downtown Nashville.”
“And then he went to Europe for six months until everyone forgot about it. It’s only been a week since you were caught with pills. Speaking of which, I’m glad to hear Marina hasn’t found any more drugs when she’s gone through your room.”
I gasp. They’re going through my stuff? Frantically, I try to think if I have anything embarrassing in my drawers. Did Marina find my condoms? Would she tell Mom and Dad about them?
“Still,” Dad goes on, “your mother and I want you to be tested on a regular basis. We’ll go next week.”