All In (14 page)

I shake my head, trying my best to
think about baseball or something else less exciting, but it’s
almost impossible to get her out of my mind.

I pull into the gravel space beside
the house so I can come in through the side door and not wake
anyone. I want to fall onto the couch and get some serious zzz’s.
Working three jobs and then filling any and every possible free
minute I have with Ashley is wearing me out, but I’m not
complaining. I’d work five jobs and give up sleep altogether if it
means I get to keep spending time with Ashley now and in the fall
at school.

I toss my keys in the air and catch
them while I walk to the door when my phone buzzes with a text
message. Who would be texting me at six in the morning? Please
don’t be Mr. Billings. I don’t think I can manage pulling another
double on no sleep. I’m surprised to see it’s from Ashley. Maybe
she can’t stop thinking about us too. I open the text while
unlocking the door. I stop abruptly, leaving the keys dangling in
the lock.

911

This can’t be good. I hit the A on my
keypad to speed dial Ashley then pace the gravel waiting for her to
pick up.

“Lane,” she says, but I can barely
hear her she’s talking so quietly, her voice muffled.

“Is everything okay?” I ask before I
hear her sniffle. Is she crying? “Baby, what’s wrong?” The knot in
my stomach twists with worry. Did I do something?

“I got caught sneaking out. Well, in
actuality I got caught sneaking back in.” She sniffles again. “My
parents are so mad. They’ve been yelling at me for over an
hour.”

I run my hands through my hair taking
a huge sigh of relief. “You scared me half to death.”

“I’m sorry… I’ve just never really
been in trouble before…” she says slightly embarrassed.

“Well? How bad is it?” I try not to
let the smile on my face show in my voice, but I can’t help it. It
doesn’t surprise me she’s never really been in trouble before;
she’s kinda perfect that way.

“I don’t know yet, but they threatened
to not let me see you anymore.” Her voice cracks like she’s on the
verge of tears again. “They said they heard that I’ve been running
around town acting like a girl from the wrong side of the tracks.
Can you believe that? I bet Kiki Newhall said something to them. I
swear they’re convinced you’re some kind of delinquent who’s going
to ruin my life.” I can hear the anger building in her every word.
“They don’t even know you.”

I lean back against the side of my
car, the knot in my stomach doubling with a mix of anger and worry.
This is exactly what Mom has always warned me about. The summer
stays don’t care how hard you work or what you’ve accomplished, if
you’re a local, you’re a nobody.

I run my hands down my face to try to
calm down. They don’t know me and when they do they’ll see I’m not
some delinquent. I hope.

“Baby, don’t worry,” I say, trying to
sound self assured, but knowing her parents may never accept me—no
matter what. Maybe the 911 text wasn’t all that uncalled for. This
is beginning to feel like an emergency.

I don’t want to lose Ashley because of
a stupid rumor or preconceived notion about locals her parents
might have. I can’t. I need them to see, for themselves, how much I
care for Ashley and that I’m far from being a delinquent. I mean,
I’m going to Yale after all, they’ll have to at least give me some
credit. Right?

“I should meet them,” I offer. “They
just need to get to know me. See how much you mean to me. See I’m
going places,” I say confidently.

“Well that’s good, because they’re
insisting on meeting you. I’m so worried they’re going to be
awful.”

“It’s going to be fine, I promise,” I
say, trying to reassure her and myself at the same time. “I have to
work tonight, but I have tomorrow night off.”

“Okay.” Ashley sniffles, but sounds
less upset now. “I’ll let them know. I better get off the phone,
I’m grounded until otherwise notified by my father.”

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll see you
tomorrow,” I say before hanging up the phone and shoving it back in
my pocket.

Great.

I rub my eyes, exhausted and hoping
I’ll be able to sleep at all now that I know I have to meet
Ashley’s parents. I have a feeling it’s not going to be as easy as
it was when she met mine. But it’s imperative I get them to see I’m
good for Ashley, and I have a bright future ahead of me. I just
hope that’s not easier said than done.

I’m able to sleep, but it’s restless,
to say the least. I toss and turn on the couch for hours before the
noise of the house and the worry about tomorrow wakes me
up.

I stumble into the kitchen, tired and
stressed.

“Oh, my boy, you look terrible. Why
don’t you go back to sleep in my room for a little while,” Grandpa
offers, eyeing me as I slump into a chair at the kitchen
table.

“Thanks, Grandpa… but there’s no
hope.”

“Uh-oh. Girl problems?” Grandpa asks,
sliding me a cup of coffee across the table.

“You could say that.”

I move through the rest of the day
like a zombie, but luckily for me, the night is so busy at the club
I barely have time to breathe, let alone worry about anything
besides the matter at hand. Dishes and lots of them.

Ashley calls right as I’m getting off
of my shift and just seeing her name lit up on the screen of my
phone makes the tension in my shoulders release. This has got to be
a good sign, right?

“Hi, baby.”

“Hi,” she says back and I can tell
she’s smiling, but something in her voice sounds just a little
off.

“Is everything okay?”

“I wanted to let you know dinner will
be at six sharp tomorrow night. Will that work?” Her tone is
formal, so I assume her parents are in the room or monitoring the
call. My hope that the anger over her sneaking out had passed,
which would definitely make tomorrow go a whole lot smoother, is
out the window.

“Uh, yeah, six will be fine,” I say
even though I want to say so much more. I want to talk all night,
despite my sleep deprivation, until we can’t keep our eyes open one
more second, but I know I have to let her go. Hopefully not for
long if I can do anything about it.

…

“Up and at 'em sleepy head,” Irene
says, waking me from a deep sleep.

I peel my eyes open and squint up at
her smiling face.

“Morning.” I sit up and run my hands
over my face and through my hair, allowing myself another second to
fully wake up.

“Breakfast is on the table and getting
cold,” she says, walking back to the kitchen.

The smell of bacon wafting through the
house makes my mouth water. “Irene, you didn’t have to do that.” I
follow her into the kitchen and take a seat at the
table.

“I know I didn’t.” She winks. “Mr.
Frank and I are headed out for the day and your mama is at work, so
eat up and enjoy the peace and quiet.”

I pop a crispy piece of bacon in my
mouth and give Irene a huge grin. “Mmmmm,” I hum, drowning my stack
of pancakes in maple syrup. “Thanks again, Irene,” I mumble with my
mouth full.

She shakes her head at me all the way
out the front door, making me laugh. I reach for the sticky carafe
again. There can never be enough syrup.

On the table, underneath my napkin, is
a letter addressed to me, return address Yale.

Yes.

I hope it’s the work study info I’ve
been waiting on. Best case scenario I’m working with the athletic
department; worst case, the dining hall. I think I’ve served enough
food in my life. But whichever one, as long as it helps pay the
tuition, I’m good.

I carefully tear open the envelope and
pull out the piece of paper. I unfold it one handed while I cut a
huge piece of pancake and shove it in my mouth with my other,
scanning the letter while I chew.

Simultaneously the room begins to spin
uncontrollably as my heart speeds up to what feels like a dangerous
level of beating, and my eye sight starts to blur.

A thin layer of sweat covers my entire
body as I drop the letter to the table. I shove backwards in my
chair, causing a scraping sound on the linoleum floor that makes
the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and I run to the
bathroom as quickly as I can.

Falling to my knees, I
wrap my arms around the cold toilet and throw up the entire
contents of my stomach while the words
character, standards, behavior, scholarship
and
rescinded
all slam against my skull like a sledge hammer
causing me to dry heave. Repeatedly.

All my hard work in the
shitter.

Ashley

I can’t stop pacing the foyer waiting
for Lane to arrive. It’s been barely twenty four hours since I’ve
seen him, but it feels much longer considering I’ve spent most of
those hours in my room, staying away from my parents the best I
can.

The strike of our grandfather clock
startles me. It’s six on the dot. “Please be on time, please be on
time,” I whisper to myself as the sound of the clock chimes again
and again. My parents are sticklers for punctuality and tonight
will be difficult enough if they’re not already annoyed if Lane is
late. I hear the faint sound of a car door shut followed by a soft
knock at the door. I take a deep breath of relief. Right on
time.

My heart picks up speed, and I wonder
if Lane is more nervous for dinner with my parents than I am, but
it’s doubtful. I pull open the door and my question is answered.
Lane is definitely more nervous. His face is pale and lifeless, and
there’s no light in his eyes, they’re flat and full of
worry.

I reach out and take his hand. “Hi,” I
say, pulling him through the doorway and giving him a soft smile.
His smile back is weak and empty. Wow. He really is
nervous.

I want to say something, anything,
that will make this less nerve-wracking for him, but I don’t want
to mislead him that this dinner is going to be anything other than
an inquisition. Luckily, for him it won’t last forever. Two hours
tops and he’ll be able to escape, unlike me, who is grounded for
the unforeseeable future.

I lean in to give him a small kiss
before walking into the living room for the formal introductions to
my parents, but he pulls away looking anxious. “Baby, I need to
talk to you.”

I place my hand against Lane’s cheek
hoping it will help calm him, even if only a fraction. “About how
much you don’t want to be here? I can tell.” I smile to show him
he’s not alone. “This isn’t going to be fun for either of us, but
you look like you’re about to go in front of a firing squad,” I
say, trying to break the tension. “They’re going to love you, just
as soon as they get to know you.” More than anything I hope that’s
true.

“No, it’s not just that. I…uh…well, I
just found out I’m not going to be able to go to—”

“So, you must be Lane,” my father
says, his booming voice interrupting Lane.

Lane’s face becomes a whole shade
whiter than it already was as he attempts to put on a confident
smile, but all I can see is trepidation and fear pouring off of
him.

“Uh…yes, sir. I mean… hello, sir. It’s
nice to meet you.” Lane reaches out to shake my dad’s hand and I
can see it tremble slightly.

“Yes, well, I would have rather met
you under circumstances that did not involve my teenage daughter
waltzing in at sunrise,” my father says bluntly, leaving Lane’s
hand hanging in midair. “I do hope that’s not typical behavior we
can expect from you?” he asks, leveling Lane with his stare. “That
is, if we allow you and Ashley to see each other again.”

That didn’t take long.

I take Lane’s hand and give it a
squeeze. We’re in this together. My father’s eyes dart to our
joined hands and his jaw tightens.

This is going to be one long
night.

“Come in and meet my mother,” I say.
It’s the only thing I can think to do before the tension gets any
thicker. I pull Lane past my father and down the hallway to the
living room mouthing the words, ‘I’m so sorry.’ He gives me a blank
stare back.

This is not good.

My mother stands from her chair when
we enter the room and gives Lane a once over without an ounce of
subtlety, and I can already see her comparing him to
Gregory.

“Mother, this is Lane. Lane, this is
my mother, Evelyn.”

“Mrs. Whitmore, please,” my mother
says. I have to stop myself from choking on how starkly opposite
she is from Lane’s mother. I didn’t miss the fact that Lane’s mom
took time warming up to me, especially after learning I was here
summering with my family, but my mom is being downright
frosty.

“Mrs. Whitmore, it’s nice to meet you.
You have a lovely home, thank you for having me over,” Lane says
politely, but slightly robotic.

My mother scrutinizes him from head to
toe. He’s wearing the same outfit he wore on our first date minus
the tie, which looks a lot like the club uniform. This is not lost
on my mother.