Page 126 of Spearcrest Knight

They asked her about school, her qualifications, her university applications, Harvard. I could tell that they really liked her—how could they not? Adults always love Sophie. She’s smart, well-spoken, earnest. Mom especially was excited at the prospect of a potential future fellow Harvard alumnus, and after dinner, she and Sophie stay at the kitchen island for ages, picking at a box of French macarons and chatting endlessly about university.

That evening, I can't concentrate on anything, and I'm peering into the kitchen from around the doorway, wondering when I can finally get Sophie to myself, when Adele's voice pipes up over my shoulder.

“How on earth did you get this girl to be friends with you, Ev? She’s far too good for you.”

I turn around to glare at her, ready to respond defensively, then I realise that she’s totally right. I sigh, my shoulders slumping. “Honestly, I have no idea. She really is.”

“Don’t be so negative.” Dad’s voice interrupts. He pops up behind Adele. “You’re amazing in many ways, Evan. You’re open-minded, optimistic, friendly and kind. You just need to do a better job of showing this girl how amazing you can be, because so far it doesn’t sound as though you’ve made the best impression.”

“Well, he’s not going to get much of a chance to do that,” Adele says, lowering her voice as she peers around the doorway and into the kitchen. “I think Mom might be in love with her—good luck competing with that.”

She’s not even exaggerating. The next few days, Sophie spends most of her time with Mom and Adele: they go out shopping, for coffee and meals, constantly chatting with her. After dinner, Sophie plays both Mom and Dad at chess—they apparently both used to be in their university chess clubs and get all nostalgic about it. I didn’t even know that. It’s not until Thursday comes and both Mom and Dad are forced to attend online meetings for work that I finally get a moment completely alone with Sophie.

We’re both in the kitchen having a late breakfast. The weather is nicer now, and she’s wearing a plain black t-shirt tucked into baggy corduroy pants. Her hair is loose and gleams like polished wood on her shoulders, a plain black elastic band around her wrist. She’s wearing tiny flicks of eyeliner at the corner of her eyes, and that’s it. It’s a simple look, but in the lazy golden sunrays, she looks so pretty it makes my chest hurt.

“Are you having a good time?” I ask, heaping bacon onto her plate before taking a seat across from her at the kitchen island.

She nods. “Your family is really, really nice.”

I grin. “I know.” My smile falters a little, and I add. “I hope you didn’t think they were going to be dicks just because I was. They’re just much better than I am.”

Sophie tucks her hair behind one ear and bites into a crispy slice of bacon. “Yes… your mom made sure to explain to me how disappointed she was when she heard about some of the things you did and that she raised you better than that and that it isn’t reflective of who you can be as a person.”

I sit, completely frozen, staring at her in shock. “She said all that?”

“All that.” Sophie gazes at me for a second, then her serious face breaks into a grin—a really cute grin, a little goofy. “Honestly, your family is amazing. You’re very lucky.”

I swallow hard, gathering my courage. “Sophie.”

She stiffens a little, her eyes go wide. She looks like a deer in headlights. “What?”

“I’m sorry. I’m really fucking sorry, for… well, for everything, really.”

Her cheeks darken, she looks down. “You don’t have to do this.”

“No, but I do, don’t I? I’m so sorry. I never should have stopped being friends with you in Year 9. And I shouldn’t have been such an arsehole to you all these years. And I definitely shouldn’t have ratted you out about your job.”

She stares at me with her wide, dark eyes, and it’s hard to tell what she’s thinking. The only indication of emotion from her is the dark pink flush in her cheeks, and the way she’s worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.

“You don’t have to worry about that anyway,” she ends up saying with a light smile. “Your mum’s offered me a summer job in her company.”

I stare at her, shocked even though I really shouldn't be. “She has?”

Sophie nods, a little smugly. “Mm-hm.”

I lean forward. “Wait. Which office?”

“She said I can go to her office in London or New York.”

My heart feels both really heavy and light enough to float away. I wait for her to say more, but she’s simply buttering a slice of toast with small, tidy movements of her knife. “Well? Which one are you thinking?”

She shrugs. “Obviously London.”

“Where would you stay?”

“I’m not sure.”

I wait a moment, trying to make sure my tone is casual when I speak next. “You know, if you want to work in the New York office, my aunt lives in New Haven…”

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