I laugh at Chloe’s brashness. “I’m more shocked that my father is here.”
The girls raise their eyebrows and follow me over to the bench to meet my dad. He has this purposeful way of walking: I can tell he’s on a charge into battle, but he moves like a swan. An angry swan ready to jab Coach with his beak.
“Soccer is supposed to be a wholesome school activity!” Nicole’s mother rages on. “How can we uphold its sacredness with Taylor on the team?”
“Sacredness?” Chloe snorts.
Coach holds up both hands. “Calm down.”
“If we could all lower our voices,” Dr. Salter starts.
I reach the bench right as Dad does.
Dr. Salter sucks in a breath. “Senator.”
At that, all the parents startle and turn to Dad, who is standing tall in a black suit with his jacket draped over his arm. It’s not every day a United States senator is in their midst.
The principal continues, “I apologize for the commotion, Senator. We’re getting it worked out.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Nicole’s mom says.
Dad pastes on his I’m-annoyed-but-I-have-to-be-nice smile that other people eat up. But I can tell he’s pissed. He loosens his tie and begins smiling directly at each parent in turn. “It’s been tough for my little girl, having to start at a new school. Soccer has always been Taylor’s favorite activity, and her mother and I were so pleased she found a spot on the soccer team here.
“Now, I know we’ve had some trouble in the last week, but Taylor needs this team. She needs your kids in her life.” He looks around at everyone again. “I’d be grateful if you’d give my daughter another chance.”
He’s brilliant. He made it seem as if we can’t live without them. Which is total bullshit and embarrassing if you ask me, but hey, it works. The parents all gaze at Dad in adoration.
“Well, um,” Nicole’s mother starts. She pauses, looking to the other parents.
“I think we can help you out, Senator,” a father says, putting his hand out to shake Dad’s. Dad takes it, of course, always on the prowl for votes.
“We can give Taylor a chance,” another mom says. This makes Nicole’s mom storm off like she’s just been fired from a job.
“Thank you all,” Dad says, bowing his head slightly. “I’m looking forward to seeing the team play today.”
With sweat rolling down his forehead, Coach looks like he might pass out. After dealing with all these parents, will he ask for a pay raise?
I go to my father, and he gives me a side hug. “Think your mom would notice if I sneak a hot dog from the concession stand?”
I nearly trip over my feet. “You’re actually staying for the game?”
“Of course. I want to see you play. I rarely get to do that.”
I walk him toward the bleachers where the other Hundred Oaks parents sit.
“So Ezra Carmichael is here?” Dad asks.
“Yeah…”
“Remember what I said.”
“Dad, Ezra’s a great guy. I know he’s had some trouble, but he needs us in his life,” I say, fluttering my eyelashes, mimicking his political mumbo jumbo. “I’d be ever so grateful if you’d give Ezra a chance.”
A big grin crosses Dad’s face. “You kill me.”
“Dad?”
“Hmm?”
I wrap an arm around his waist. “Thank you.”
For the first time in forever, he kisses my forehead. “No problem.”
? ? ?
We lose to my old school 3–1.
Which isn’t all that bad. When Chloe scored on a header, I ran screaming down the field and joined in the group hug.
After the game, while Mom and Dad chat with the other soccer parents, Ezra and I catch up with Steph and Madison. Ezra hugs me from behind, but he lets me go when he sees Dad glaring at him in that Dad way of his.
“I knew you guys would eventually get together!” Steph says in her British accent.
“Now maybe Mads will stop calling me The Asshole,” he replies with a playful grin.
“You knew about that?” Madison mumbles.
He winks at her. “I heard all sorts of stuff during poker night at St. Andrew’s.”
“Hey, Ez,” Steph says, poking him in the bicep. “Do you have any construction worker friends you can set me up with?”
“No, but Taylor can introduce you to a landscaping lion,” he replies, and I groan.
Back at home, Dad hauls ass up to his office so he can get to work. Mom sets her purse down on the kitchen island and sighs.
“You okay?” I ask.
She seems distracted when she replies, “I heard parents talking in the stands. They mentioned some of your teammates weren’t happy you joined the team. I’m sorry if they’ve been mean to you.”
My face burns with embarrassment. “They’re not all so bad.”
“Why didn’t you mention it to me and your father?”
I set my tote bag on a stool and unzip it, unpacking my empty lunch containers and iPad. “I don’t know. I’ve caused you and Dad enough trouble, so I didn’t want to bother you with this. And I guess I’m just used to figuring out stuff myself. If I had a problem at St. Andrew’s, I dealt with it on my own.”
Mom picks up my lunch containers and carries them to the sink. “I know your father has always put a lot of pressure on you kids to be independent, but you can talk to me, okay?”
I nod, wishing that soccer were my biggest problem, when really it’s this lie holding me hostage. If I tell the truth, my family will be pissed at me. It could do further damage to Dad’s campaign. My friends and family may not look at me the same way anymore. They’d see me as a liar. But what I wouldn’t give to go back to being the smart, studious girl, the one colleges would kill to have at their schools.
Mom goes on, “I know what it’s like to feel lonely.” I can tell she’s thinking of Aunt Virginia. “It’s not good to keep those feelings bottled up inside.”
My mother’s gaze meets mine, and in that moment, I can feel I’m loved. I should tell her the truth. I open my mouth to say the words, but then Mom rubs the tears from her eyes and takes a deep breath. I don’t want to give her even more to worry about right now.
I decide to make a pact with myself. The election is a month away. Once that is over, I can come clean to my family.
The Interview
Dad kept his word: he actually takes a Friday off work to accompany me on my Yale visit.
While I meet with the admissions officer, Dad and Jenna have plans to get coffee. They need to get their fix when Mom isn’t around too.
Dad parks the rental car outside my sister’s apartment, which is nothing like Ezra’s on Ragswood Road. The condo is a quaint first-floor unit in a classic redbrick building on State Street. I feel like I’m at Bilbo Baggins’s place in Hobbiton.
If Yale accepts me, I’ll live in the dorms freshman year, but I might be able to move off-campus for sophomore year like my sister did. I love the idea of having my own little place with a dog, a Keurig, and a Hobbit front door.