“Hailey, your mom tells us you volunteer?” my Aunt Tilly asks as she begins carrying dishes to the dinner table in the other room. My mom assists her, and I jump in to help.
“Yeah,” I answer, trying to ignore the daggers that Danica is glaring into the back of my head while I carry two bowls in my hands and another on my arm. When I turn around to retrieve another dish, she’s picking a marshmallow off the sweet potato casserole, helping herself instead of anyone else. “Ten hours a week count toward my internship, but I help out as much as I can,” I say.
“That’s so sweet of you,” my aunt Tilly replies with a genuine smile on her face as she passes me on her way back to the formal dining room. Her dark hair is pulled back into a low bun with stray bits of hair escaping, and she’s in a skirt-and-blouse combo that probably came from a store like the one Danica took me to—one with crystal chandeliers and fringed stools in the fitting rooms. But her voice is kind, and her words are heartfelt. Even though she’s always been a somewhat flighty woman, I’ve liked her. When Danica and I played princesses when we were kids, Aunt Tilly always made sure we looked and felt like real, true princesses. When we played tea party, she let us use actual china teacups.
As we set the table, Aunt Tilly asks me all of the usual questions about working at the shelter—what I do, if I like it, if it’s hard saying goodbye to the animals when they find their forever homes. I tell her all about it, with everyone else jumping into the conversation where they can, and when we finally sit down to dinner, my aunt turns her questions to Danica. “Have you ever thought about volunteering?”
“At the shelter?” Danica asks with an indignant eyebrow raised.
“Hailey,” her dad says, holding out a serving of turkey for me. Years of explaining that I’m a vegetarian has taught me not to bother bringing up that I’m a vegetarian, so I hold my plate out to accept it.
“Thank you,” I say, and he moves on to my brother as Aunt Tilly answers Danica’s question.
“Yeah. It sounds nice. You could go with Hailey.”
“I’m too busy studying,” Danica says from the seat across from me. “I think I’m going to make dean’s list this semester.”
It’s a flat-out lie. I’ve seen the grades on her exams, and frankly, I’ll be surprised if she doesn’t fail out of half her courses just from skipping class so often. But my aunt Tilly doesn’t know that, and when her face lights up, Danica smiles at her. “Really?” my aunt asks, and Danica nods happily.
“I think so. I’ve been working really hard.”
She doesn’t even flinch when she says it. No lip biting. No eye twitch. A chill trickles down my spine, and Danica’s white smile turns on me.
“Hailey’s been a really positive influence. She’s helped me study for a lot of my tests.”
I’m paralyzed by that smile. She might as well have grown fangs.
My mom gives me a proud pat on the back, and the laugh lines in Danica’s cheeks deepen when my mother’s touch startles me.
“That’s wonderful,” my aunt Tilly praises, beaming at us both in turn. “Hailey, will you make dean’s list too?”
“Of course she will,” Danica answers for me. “Hailey is super smart. She barely needs to study to ace all of her exams. Her chemistry teacher even asked if she’d want to be a tutor next semester.”
My food sits untouched on my plate as I stare at Danica, wondering what she’s up to. I told her that bit of information a few weeks ago, but she acted like she didn’t even hear me. Why is she complimenting me? Why is she being nice?
“Wow,” her dad admires. “You must have really impressed him.”
“Yeah . . .” I tell Danica’s suspicious smile.
“Are you going to take him up on the offer?”
My eyes swing to my uncle, and I start stammering. “Oh, uh . . . I don’t know . . . I mean, it’s a volunteer position, so . . .”
“It would probably look good on your résumé,” my dad says, and I turn my eyes to his end of the table. He chews a bite of turkey, waiting for me to say something.
“Yeah.”
“Have you started thinking about where you want to do your senior internship yet?” my uncle asks, and my head swings back and forth as I stutter more answers to his and my dad’s questions.
“What about a specialty?” my aunt Tilly asks. “Have you thought about that yet? Like livestock, marine animals, birds . . .”
“Small animals,” my mom offers from beside me. “Isn’t that what you were thinking, Hailey?”
I nod, and Danica’s voice is pure sunshine when she says, “Hailey’s wanted to be a small animal vet since she saved that little kitten at Patoka Lake.”
Everyone at the table chuckles as they remember. I’d found the tiny kitten in some tall grass, and I spent hours searching for its mom before I finally brought it back to our tent with dirt and tears smeared on my face. It wouldn’t stop crying, and I thought for sure it was dying without its mommy. My parents assured me it would be okay, but before I handed it over to the nice people at the nearest animal shelter, my six-year-old self demanded to talk to the veterinarian on staff, who assured me that the kitten was in good health and would be adopted in no time at all.
“Little Oliver Twist,” my mom recalls with a laugh, remembering the name I gave it, and Aunt Tilly smiles at me.
“You were always such a sweet little girl, Hailey.” She squeezes Danica’s shoulder. “You both were.”
“Hailey’s going to make a great veterinarian,” Danica praises. “It’s what she was born to do.”
Everyone agrees, and guilt creeps into the pit of my stomach. They’re all so proud of me, of the things I’ve done and the things they believe I’ll do. And I’m going to let them down, every single one of them.
I frown at the turkey on my plate, and when I lift my eyes, I realize Danica hasn’t touched her food either. She’s just smiling at me. Smiling brightly, happily, triumphantly—and it dawns on me, what she’s doing.
She’s trying to make me remember how much being a vet means to me, how proud everyone is. She thinks it will make me forget how much I love Mike . . .
She has no idea how determined I am to have both. My dreams are nothing without the warm way he smiled at me in his living room this morning, the scorching way he kissed me against his truck.
“I’ve been seeing someone,” I announce, watching Danica’s eyes flash with warning.
“Hailey—”
“Really?” my mom practically gasps. “Who?”
All eyes are on me—my mom’s, my dad’s, my brother’s, my uncle’s and aunt’s. And Danica’s, burning a hole through me.
I look at my mom and my dad, hoping they can see how much this man they’ve never met means to me. “I’m in love with him.”
“Who is it?” my mom asks again, and this time, I look at my aunt and my uncle before my eyes settle on my seething cousin.
“Hailey.” She hangs my name like a threat in the air, and I push past it.
“His name is Mike,” I say. “He’s Danica’s ex-boyfriend.”