In terms of life events, my getting arrested was either pretty horrible timing or pretty perfect, depending on who you were talking to. I was thankful it was June, and a week away from the last day of school. I wouldn’t have to see my classmates and listen to the rumor mill blow this out of proportion for long. It would be forgotten by the time school started after Labor Day, in favor of who broke up with who and where so-and-so was applying early to college. I could spend my summer not going to the beach, not hanging out with my friends, and not staying out late in quiet solitude. I hoped, anyway.
On the flip side, Dad was leaving. He worked for the State Department and was forever being sent to faraway countries—this time to Botswana for eight weeks—in order to bring magical, democratic diplomacy to people who supposedly needed him more than I did. Dad and I, despite all the changes that had happened in our family during my lifetime, had always been allies. I was used to him being gone, but I wasn’t used to him leaving and being mad at me.
As if I wasn’t feeling bad enough about my situation, he decided to lay down some new rules for me to follow in his absence. He chose his last dinner at home to share them, having wonderful timing himself.
“Tatum, you know Belén and I are disappointed by your recent actions.”
“I know, Dad.” I wanted to wave a magic wand and remove this whole mess from everyone’s memories. Mine included.
“We have discussed the situation, and while we applaud you for trying to protect Ashlyn, it does not negate the fact that you put yourself in a very dangerous situation, and we are unwilling to let that slide without some consequences. While I’m gone, your stepmother will be in charge.” Like she wasn’t in charge all the time, anyway? I slipped my hand under the table and into my pocket, running a finger over the warm metal of my keychain for confidence.
“If you are not babysitting, you will be performing your community service or you will be here. If you want to go on any type of outing, or participate in an activity, Belén needs to authorize it first.”
I narrowed my eyes and slid them back and forth between my dad and Belén. “So, this is house arrest. She’s my jailer, is what you’re saying.”
Dad sighed. “That’s an ugly word, but yes, in a nutshell.”
Excellent. If the police weren’t going to lock me up, the stepmonster would. “Great,” I muttered under my breath.
Belén frowned, the edges of her mouth dipping so low toward her chin, I thought her face might crack. “Your father and I wish you had let a trusted adult know Ashlyn was in trouble with this Chase character, but that didn’t happen. And now you need to accept the consequences.”
“Well, the state of Virginia has already helped you out in that department. I’d say a five hundred dollar fine is a pretty big consequence for doing nothing. I get that you want me to learn this life lesson, but it’s completely unnecessary.” I knew I was being rude, but I didn’t care. “Though it’s not like I have anyone to hang out with, anyway,” I mumbled. Ashlyn hadn’t said a word to me since we left the police station.
Belén folded her hands, laid them on the table, and squared her shoulders. She was intimidating, for sure, but I wasn’t going to cower. I needed to keep my dignity intact, after all, if I was going to be contending with her by myself for two months. Her expression softened a little when I didn’t look away, and she sighed before speaking again. “In addition, my mother will be moving in with us for the summer, so when I’m at work or in court, you’ll need to listen to what she says.”
My eyebrows shot up. Blanche was moving in? I knew this was meant to be another punishment, when really Belén’s mother, Tilly’s abuela, was secretly one of my favorite people. I mean, I hardly knew her since she’d visited a grand total of two times in the eight years we’d been a happy little family, but it was obvious to anyone with half a brain that she didn’t seem to subscribe to Belén’s parenting style. And in my book, that made her a rock star.
I nodded. “Sure thing.” A chilly, hard stare came back, and I looked away from Belén. I didn’t want my forehead to freeze.
“I mean it, Tatum. I’ll be working, and as you know, Tilly will be participating in the District Ballet Company’s summer intensive.” A small, satisfied smile crossed her lips, as per usual whenever Belén was discussing her daughter’s accomplishments.
Tilly was a classically trained ballerina, and even my cranky self couldn’t deny that she was a really good one. She’d been in a specialized dance program for three years now. When Tilly got her acceptance letter to McIntosh High School for the Arts, Belén and my dad took us all out to a fancy dinner to celebrate. A year later, I got one thanking me for applying to the visual arts program, but sadly there was no spot for me in the freshman class. No dinner that time. Tilly had also spent the last few summers participating in courses led by frou-frou dance companies all over the country. Belén insisted Tilly stay close to home this year so she could work on her college essays: in other words, so Belén could edit them for—I mean with—her.
“Sounds like a plan.” There was nothing left for me to do but just go with it.
“One more thing, Tatum.” Belén held her palm out. “Car key, please.”
“Excuse me?” My fingers tightened around the metal in my pocket.
My dad nodded at me, punctuating the request. I slowly pulled the keys out of my pocket and winced while putting them on the table. As Belén reached out, I snatched them away from her. “Hold on a second.” I carefully removed only the car key, leaving my house key still attached to the thick silver rectangle of my keychain. I pushed the car key to Belén, eyes stuck on my dad.
The wrinkle in his forehead softened, and the hard line of his mouth tipped into a sad smile. He came over to my chair and offered me a half-hearted side hug. “You know we love you, honey.” I did. Love wasn’t the issue here. Even though he was speaking those special words—the ones that seal the pact between parent and child, that assured he’d always have my back—somehow it felt like he and Belén were now on one side of that invisible line, and I was on the other.
“I know, Dad.”
“I want you to know that I’m trying very hard to put myself in your shoes.”
He was? Could’ve fooled me. He was the parent who would sneak me dessert when Belén decided I didn’t deserve it. He was the parent who consoled me when I got a low test score, and paid attention to when my colored pencils had been sharpened down to nubs and replaced them without my asking. Belén was the one who preferred to dole out discipline like Halloween candy.