Room-maid(21)

That sounded lonely to me. “Why can’t I have both?”

“Because that’s not how real life works. It’s time you grew up and realized that. Do your duty for this family and what’s expected of you. Your rebellious little tantrum has gone on long enough.”

“In case you didn’t know,” I said with a shake of my head, “you are turning into Mom. And I always thought you were better than that.”

Vanessa gasped in outrage as Coughlin entered the room, carrying my coat. “Julio is waiting for you, Miss Madison.” He handed me my coat and I again was struck with the urge to kiss his cheek for saving me.

I walked out of the study without looking back, heading directly for the black town car in front of the house. I climbed in before I could be accosted by another member of my family and as Julio headed down the long driveway I wondered what Vanessa had been up to.

What was her goal? Was she trying to trick me down the same miserable path her life had taken? If she suffered, so should everyone else?

Or was she using some kind of reverse psychology, hoping to push me into publicly breaking up with Brad? Knowing how angry it would make our parents? Ensuring the amount of her inheritance went from thirty-three percent to fifty?

Sighing, I leaned my head back against the seat. What I did know was two things—I didn’t want to play any more Huntington games.

And despite his hopes that I’d keep an open mind, I really didn’t want to get back together with Brad.



The next day, after school, Delia had to stop by the grocery store before she dropped me off at home. As we passed by a display of dog food, I felt proud of myself that I had successfully fed and watered Pigeon earlier that morning. Or, I assumed I had because she hadn’t come out to eat when I called for her.

While I followed Delia through the aisles, a box of macaroni and cheese caught my attention. Another food that had been banned from my household that I’d always wanted to try thanks to commercials.

When she dropped me off, I was eager to make my own dinner. I checked Pigeon’s food bowl and saw that she had eaten. I grabbed her some more kibble before taking my box of mac and cheese over to the counter to read the directions.

Because that’s all cooking was, right? Following directions?

I had no idea what a saucepan was, or how it was different from a pot. But I found one that looked like the image on the box. It sounded easy: boiling water, putting in the pasta until it got soft.

Why hadn’t I tried this years ago?

While I waited for the water to boil, I started wandering around the apartment. I had mostly kept to my room and hadn’t had much of a chance to investigate. While I decided snooping in Tyler’s room was off limits, I figured anything in our communal living space was fair game.

In the living room he had an eclectic mix of books. Some of them were about finance and looked like they were old college textbooks. Others looked like they were about computers and programming. But most of his books were spy novels. And they looked worn, as if he’d read them often.

I loved that.

I checked out his movies on the media stand just below the TV. I expected to see action thrillers about spies, given his reading tastes, but instead found a bunch of sci-fi DVDs with a couple of big-budget explosion fests thrown in. Along with a few romantic comedies. Hm. I frowned. Had he picked them out or had some previous (or current) girlfriend left them here?

When I put the DVDs back, I noticed a stack of what looked like ticket stubs on top of the stand. They were parking tickets and I wanted to laugh. Apparently Tyler wasn’t great at reading the permitted parking hours on signs. He suddenly seemed so much more human to me.

And why did I find his illegal parking adorable?

I heard the sound of the water boiling on the stove. After I located a bowl with holes in it so that I could drain the pasta, I set the pan down. Then I read over the directions again. I needed butter and milk. I found the butter . . . but no milk. I didn’t know how much of an issue this was going to be and I was concerned.

There was a quarter gallon of chocolate milk left in the fridge. I considered my options. How bad could it be? I’d eaten cheese and chocolate together for dessert many times. I poured in a quarter cup of the chocolate milk and added the “cheese” packet.

Maybe I’d just discovered a new side hobby and I could become a YouTube star. I’d make videos of me combining interesting flavors for basic foods.

And I held on to that notion that it could work right up until the moment when I put my concoction in my mouth.

It was like misery combined with regurgitated chocolate and wet, curdled cheese. Foul. I spit my bite back into the bowl.

Pigeon wandered into the kitchen, keeping distance between us as she went over to her food bowl.

“Don’t mind me. Just over here committing food felonies,” I told her. I stuck the pan back into the sink to rinse it out. I didn’t know a lot about dogs, but I did remember reading they couldn’t eat chocolate. I didn’t know if that included chocolate milk, and while I couldn’t imagine Pigeon would want a bite of this monstrosity, it was better to be safe than sorry.

My phone buzzed, and my heart fluttered when I saw who the text was from. Tyler.



How were things? I lacked the basic ability to even feed myself. But that was probably not something I should tell him considering that he believed I could do things. Like cook. And clean stuff.