Little Do We Know(50)

“Hey,” I mumbled. “What’s up?”

I didn’t really want to know. The question just slipped out, and I immediately scolded myself for it. Why couldn’t I go to the kitchen, pour my coffee, and go back to my room?

“It’s the big cake-tasting day,” Mom said. She sounded way too cheery.

“Apparently, it’s necessary to go to six different bakeries in a thirty-mile radius so you can find the very best cake,” D-bag added. I glared at him while he smiled at my mom and said, “I have no idea how one cake could be that different from another.”

She giggled in an octave above her normal speaking voice. “Oh, stop it!” She swatted him with the back of her hand. “It’ll be fun. Besides, it’s not like I’m taking you to get a root canal. We’re eating a bunch of cake.”

“Fine. Then six bakeries it is.” He ran his fingertip down her nose, and then tapped the end of it twice. “My bride can have anything she wants. If she can’t decide, she’ll get one cake from each bakery.”

It was all I could do to not barf at the way he was referring to her in the third person, when he twisted in his seat and looked at me. “Do you want to come with us, Emory?”

“Oh, that’s a great idea!” Mom actually fast-clapped. “We’ll make it a family thing.”

A what thing? Oh dear god.

“Sorry, I can’t….” I forced a smile and made something up. “I’m hanging out with Luke today. In fact, I was just coming out to see if I could borrow the van. He’s not allowed to drive yet, not until his internal stitches have healed completely.”

Mom and D-bag exchanged a look.

I’d overheard them talking about me a few nights earlier. He was pissed that she didn’t ground me for lying about Luke spending the night, and she’d laughed and said she hadn’t grounded me since I was thirteen. He told her I might be better behaved if she had. I’d listened closely after that, waiting for Mom to defend me, but she never did.

“What are you two up to today?” she asked.

“Luke’s doctor said he needed to get up and start walking around, so I thought I’d take him on an easy hike.” I was making it up as I went along, but it wasn’t a bad idea. “We’ll get some sandwiches, have a picnic.”

“That sounds nice.”

D-bag didn’t say anything. He was studying one of the cake menus like he was committing it to memory.

“The car keys are in my purse,” she said. “On the table, next to the front door.” As I walked away, I heard them whispering to each other.

I was over in the foyer, reaching for her keys, when I spotted a pile of mail sitting on the table. I froze. It was Sunday. Mail didn’t come on Sundays. It must have arrived yesterday. I could see the edge of a white packet sticking out.

“Mom,” I said. “Mom! Packet!”

“What?”

I slid it out. I stared at UCLA drama department’s return address. I went back to the dining room with the envelope pressed to my chest. “Packet. From UCLA.”

She took one look at me and jumped to her feet. “Rejections don’t come in packets. Open it!”

“I can’t. My hands are shaking too much.”

“Want me to open it?”

“No.” I laughed. “Okay, here goes.”

“It’s good news, I can tell.” D-bag sounded like he was trying to be excited but he couldn’t quite get there.

I ran my finger under the flap, breaking the seal, and pulled out a brightly colored brochure with a letter paper-clipped to the top. I read it to myself.

Dear Emory Kern. It is our pleasure to inform you that you have been accepted…

I stopped reading and looked up at Mom. “I’m in.”

“You’re in.” Her whole face came to life.

“I’m in.”

Mom pulled me into her arms and squeezed hard, wringing me out like a sponge. “Oh, Emory! I am so proud of you. I knew you’d get in.” She pulled away, took my face in her hands, kissed my cheeks, and went right back to hugging me. Then she let go. “Let me see it!” She took the letter from my hands and read it her herself.

“Congratulations.” D-bag stepped in close, as if he were going to hug me, but I stepped back, shot him a glare, and shook my head at him. Mom was so busy reading the letter, she didn’t notice.

She hugged me again and handed the packet back to me. “Go! Take the van. Get out of here. I bet you can’t wait to show this to Luke.”

After the week we’d had, I wondered if he’d even care.



I pulled up at the deli and jumped out of the car. It was a perfect day to be outside. There was a crisp, early spring bite in the air, but it was sunny, with no wind.

Inside, I ordered giant sandwiches, a bag of chips to share, and two bottled waters. I stuffed everything in my backpack along with the picnic blanket I grabbed from the hall closet. I could see the UCLA Drama packet smashed it next to it, and I smiled to myself.

I drove down the streets of Luke’s tree-lined neighborhood and turned into his long, narrow driveway. I pulled in next to his mom’s BMW, left the engine running, and ran up the steps. I was still trying to catch my breath as I knocked on the front door.