Page 10 of Race to Me

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“I don’t know why you like her so much.” I point to the door as Brett walks me away from Accounting.

He shoots me a suspicious glare, “Mrs. Parks? She’s fucking amazing.”

I shrug. “Maybe she’s having an off day. She didn’t even acknowledge me.”

“Maybe,” Brett looks at me wearily, asking, “Can I talk to you about something?”

“Of course!” I say immediately. He looks so serious. Unusually serious. “What’s up?”

“So—”

“What’s up bitches?” Kate cuts us off, slinging her arms around our necks. I look to Brett for him to continue, but he gives a faint shake of his head.

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Practice ran late again, but I was thankful for the delay because when I got hometheircars were parked in the driveway.

I open the door to find my mom sitting in her chair, sipping on a glass of white wine. “You’re late.”Nice to see you too.She flicks her manicured nail at me, ordering, “Get dressed. Guests will be here shortly.”

I creep upstairs to my room, going to the formal section of my walk-in closet. My hands trail on a black, floor-length gown. After showering and getting ready, I head back downstairs. Brett sits in the living room, grinning from ear to ear. “Nice dress.”

“Shut up,” I snicker, “You know how they are.”Well, sort of. I look at his black suit and fix his tie for him. “I didn’t know your family was coming over tonight.”

He shrugs. “Yeah, last-minute thing, I guess. Ready to go in?”

I look towards the dining room, not wanting to see my dad. The last time he was here wasthatnight. “Sure,” I plaster on a smile, not wanting Brett to know how scared I am to simply walk into another room of my own home.

Five

This dinner is already stabbing at my nerves. My mother is talking happily with Veronica, Brett’s sweet mom. My father is twirling a stiff drink in his hands, the ice clinking against his glass while he discusses business with David, Brett’s dad.

My father hasn’t even acknowledged me since we sat at the table, except for once when the first course was served, and he cut his eyes to me because my elbows were on the table.

“What is up with you?” Brett leans over, poking my side to make me laugh. He doesn’t realize the gesture sends a shooting pain through my side that radiates to my core.

I continue to aimlessly push roasted vegetables around my plate, uninterested in fake small talk and ridiculous outfits. Why can’t we be like normal families that eat dinner on the couch, snuggled up watching a movie? “Earth to Sky?”

“Sorry,” I feign a smile. “Just worried about school.”

His wide, all-American smile teases on his lips. “Nothing to worry about. We’re a lot laxer than Crestview.”

Distant chatter interrupts our conversation. “Brett here has scouts coming to the game this Saturday.” David announces, looking proudly at his son with a beaming smile.

My dad nods his head, knowing full well what that could mean for Brett. “Impressive,” He takes a sip of his drink, his own glory days likely mulling in his mind. “I’m sure they heard about the scouts watching when you were in high school. It’s only a matter of time before you’re picked up for the NFL.” His tipped grin shows interest, but I know he doesn’t care. As long as the dinner goes smoothly and we all look the part, that’s all that matters.

And here they go, with the bragging. Brett doesn’t talk about it, but I know his parents put him under a lot of pressure too; he hides the stress well behind his shiny smile. The gesture is a mirror of mine, and another reason why me and Brett get along so well, even if he doesn’t know the truth.

“Yes, sir,” He tips his water back, and Mrs. Rita quickly fills the glass before retreating to the kitchen. “I’m a few years away from NFL drafts, but I think they’re starting the lookout now.”

Mom chimes in, her speech slurred from the bottle of wine she devoured earlier, “Skyler here has just been going on and on about cheering for you at your games.” She looks between us, smiling. “You two would be quite the pair.”Seriously?I can see the twinkle in her eyes, but it’s muffled by the void of what marrying for status means, even the status of a cheerleader and football player.

Truly, Brett would be a great boyfriend, but it’s not like that with us.

I’ll set the scene of the twinkle behind my mother’s eyes. My father was the captain of the football team in high school and valedictorian. My mom did varsity cheer since freshman year, and she was prom queen alongside my father, who was prom king. A prime example of two individuals who peaked in high school and have been holding the flame ever since, dying to not let it burn out.

They want me to recreate their perfect charade.

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