Page 126 of Something in Between

He’s such a tool. “How’s USC?” I ask.

“Boring as paint. But the girls are hot. You could give them a run for their money though. What are you doing with my brother anyway? Aren’t you bored yet? Did you know he didn’t learn to read until fourth grade?”

“Why are you so mean to him?” I say, utterly disgusted. What on earth is wrong with this guy? “Royce is your brother.”

“You serious? That idiot is related to me?” he says, getting up to say hello to his parents who’ve just entered the restaurant. “Sit next to me at the table,” he says, as if I would ever do such a thing.

* * *

I stay quiet at dinner. I’m a little shy around Royce’s family after everything that happened with the private bill and the news leak. It’s awkward, but everyone is being polite. Except Mason, who keeps leering at me or laughing obnoxiously in my direction. I can tell that Royce is about to lose it, but is trying to keep the peace.

Mr. Blakely keeps boasting about Royce attending Stanford, and Royce reminds him that I got in too.

Congressman Blakely cuts off a huge chunk of meat from his prime rib. “Never hear anything negative about Stanford, do you. The place is a dream. We’ll get you set up in a real nice apartment too,” he tells Royce.

“I want to live in the dorms, Dad, like everyone else,” says Royce.

“You’re getting him a better place than mine?” Mason frowns.

“Your place is nice,” Debra says. “You’re practically on campus.”

“It’s so slummy in downtown LA,” Mason complains. “I’m getting really tired of that apartment.”

“You’d better not be,” Congressman Blakely says. “We pay good money for your tuition and residence.”

Mason winks at me. “I’m trying hard. But all the foreigners around campus really drag the whole area down.”

Debra looks horrified. “Mason, your grandfather was from Mexico City. And diversity has always been a strength of LA’s.”

“Nice PR, Mom. You sound like some bleeding heart,” Mason snickers.

I get up to go use the restroom. “Excuse me,” I say. “I’ll be right back.”

Congressman Blakely ignores me. “Mason, did you hear back from Columbia for next year?”

I find a bench near the restrooms and sit for a few minutes, thinking about how I wish I could go somewhere alone with Royce. Just when I’m about to head back, I run into Royce looking for me.

“Let’s go,” he says, as if he’s read my mind.

“You’re walking out on your family dinner?” I ask, shocked.

He doesn’t answer; he just takes my hand, and we walk out of the restaurant and don’t look back.

* * *

The Ferris wheel on the Santa Monica Pier spins in rotating neon pinwheels of greens, blues, purples, and reds against the night sky. You can’t see the alternating red and yellow buckets. You can’t see the people in them, though you can hear everyone’s ecstatic screams from below. The wheel flashes from a pinwheel into a star, pulsating over the ocean, lighting up the tides like the water really is glowing.

Royce and I are sitting on the beach together, still wearing our fancy dinner clothes, staring at the neon. Even though I’m glad we’ve escaped Mason’s toxic company, I worry. What will Royce’s parents think of me for walking out like that? Maybe I shouldn’t hold on to him just because I can. I have to let him go.

It’s not hot or cold here. No breeze at all. Just the sound of the ocean and a sort of stillness, except for all the happenings on the pier.

“I love this place,” Royce says. “There’s something about the Ferris wheel and the ocean right next to each other.” He smiles at me. “Reminds me of when I was little.”

“Yeah, you’ve told me lots of times,” I say, teasing a little.

“I guess I have. But I don’t think I’ve told you why. See, my parents weren’t wrapped up in politics then. Dad was a businessman. He knew politicians, but his focus was more on raising our family. And Mason... There was a time when he wasn’t like that. It might be hard to believe, but he was all right. I see that Ferris wheel, and I remember good times.”

The froth of a wave washes toward us but falls short.

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