A Midsummer's Nightmare(67)

I rushed forward, slamming my fist into the wooden door.

“Nathan, this is not cool! Open my freaking door!”

No answer.

Shit. That *. He was really going to force me into this. For a minute, I thought about locking myself in his room, but I knew that would get us nowhere. Nathan was going to be stubborn about this. Frustrated, I turned around and started down the stairs, knowing I wouldn’t be allowed back into my bedroom until I’d had some sort of talk with Dad.

No. Never mind. Technically, it wasn’t really my bedroom anymore. It was the guest room again.

I stomped down the stairs, my arms folded tightly over my chest. If I was doing this, I sure as hell wasn’t doing it willingly. And Dad was going to know that. He was going to be fully aware of the fact that I hated this whole situation. That Nathan was the one forcing me to speak to him. Which, of course, made him even more of an idiot for trying to split us up, since this probably meant Nathan was a good influence on me.

The words boiled on the tip of my tongue, the angry things I wanted to scream bubbling at the back of my throat. I was ready. If Dad was still going to be an ass about this, I was going to throw a tantrum. A real one. I was going to give him a decent reason to send me packing. I was going to make my effort worth it.

But I hadn’t even reached his bedroom door yet when I heard the shouting.

Then I remembered what Nathan had said when he first came into my room a few minutes ago: Dad and Sylvia were fighting.

“You’re being unreasonable, Greg.”

“Sylvia, I’ve made up my mind. She’s going home.”

Oh, great. They were fighting about me.

“Nathan and Whitley have been good for each other. Nathan has gotten so much better this summer, and haven’t you noticed the change in Whitley? I don’t understand why this is such a big deal to you.”

“He’s her stepbrother. People will talk.”

“Who gives a shit if they talk?”

I froze outside the door, stunned to hear Sylvia’s sweet, perky voice using a four-letter word. Of course, I was even more surprised to hear her arguing in my defense.

“Just drop it, Sylvia.” Dad sighed.

I could see him through the crack in the door, putting clean clothes in the dresser. The same baby blue shirts and striped ties he always wore. Neat and folded, placed into each drawer. He wasn’t even looking at Sylvia, who sat on the bed watching him. And he certainly hadn’t noticed me.

What else was new?

“No, I am not going to drop it, Greg.” Sylvia stood up suddenly, her hands on her hips. “She’s your daughter, and you’ve barely paid any attention to her all summer.”

“That is not true.”

“Yeah it is, Dad.”

The words had escaped my mouth before I could stop them, and now both Dad’s and Sylvia’s heads had turned to look at me. I bit my lip, regretting that little slip, but it was too late. They knew I was here. Might as well be out with it. So I pushed open the bedroom door and walked inside.

“Whitley, what are you—”

“She’s right, Dad,” I said. “Sylvia hit the nail on the head. I’ve been here all summer and you’ve barely looked at me.”

Fittingly, he wasn’t even looking at me now. He’d turned back to his dresser and was folding and putting away shirt after shirt.

“Whitley, this is a private discussion. Please go back upstairs.”

I scowled. “Whatever,” I muttered, starting to turn around. But the expression I saw on Sylvia’s face stopped me. Her eyes were wide, watching me. Begging me to say something. Their shape reminded me of Nathan’s, and I remembered that I was locked out of my room.

So I had to try.

Try harder, anyway.

“Dad,” I said, forcing the word out. All of the things that had been brewing in my mouth earlier were gone. Not even a trace remained. Like they’d never really been there at all. “Did you see the other pictures?”

“Whitley, I asked you to—”

“Answer her, Greg.” Sylvia sounded angry. Really angry. “I’ve been trying to get you two to talk to each other for weeks. And I’m not letting something as stupid as stubbornness break my family apart. So answer her damn question. She has a right to know.”

Dad stayed quiet, still facing the wall, compulsively folding his stupid clothes.

“Why is this such a big deal?” I demanded, taking his silence for a yes. I stepped forward, my fingers curling against my palms.

Part of me wanted to get angry, like Sylvia. To yell and scream like I’d planned. But the logical side of me said that it was a bad idea, that I’d only screw things up even more.

“You didn’t care when I was making out with other guys. You didn’t care what people thought then. So what does it matter if I kiss Nathan?”

Dad exhaled heavily, finally turning around to face me. He leaned against the dresser, his hands shoved in his pockets. “Whitley, pictures like that just do not reflect well on our family.”

“Our family?” I laughed bitterly. “I’m your family, too, you know. At least I’m supposed to be. And the other comments and photos definitely didn’t reflect well on me. But you never mentioned them. In fact, it only comes up when Nathan gets involved.”