Page 145 of Something Rad
“Of course,” she confirms. “I mean, who could forgetAiry Sherri?”
“Excuse me?” My brows raise.
Robbie’s parents pass a look between each other.
“Did you say…Airy…Sherri?”
“Oh, it’s nothing, dear,” Mrs. Summers assures me. “Just a silly little high school nickname.”
“And where would that nickname come from?” I question her.
Her lips purse. “Oh, you know,” she waves her hand. “Your mother was always such a cute, sweet girl. But people just like to make jokes.”
When I still appear confused, Mr. Summers chimes in. “Just that she didn’t have too much…going on up here.” He taps on his temple.
Heat instantly blooms across my cheeks.
“Again, it was just a joke,” he insists, holding his hands up defensively. Mrs. Summers chuckles, taking a sip of her wine. “But we need people like her around. To keep the mood light and fun.”
“And to wipe down tables,” I hear Steven mutter into his wine glass, and my head instantly snaps in his direction.
Robbie pushes back from the table, standing up.
“Oh, great, Robert,” Mrs. Summers says, “since you’re up, I just remembered I left the gravy sitting on the counter. Could you grab it?”
“I–”
“Do as your mother says, Robert,” Mr. Summers says, cutting off whatever Robbie was about to stay.
My gaze is fixed on the table when I see a bowl of mashed potatoes being thrust into my peripheral vision. I glance to the side to see Will holding them out to me. I hadn’t even realized we had started passing around food. I robotically grab the bowl from him, adding a single scoop to my plate as Robbie storms back into the kitchen for the gravy.
“I remember her going with that ginger-headed boy back in school,” Mrs. Summers muses. “What was his name? Charles?”
“Chris,” I breathe.
“Oh,Chris!” she claps. “Chris Cooper, that’s right.”
“And what ever happened to your father?” Mr. Summers asks.
“He died.”
Robbie freezes in the doorway, gravy boat in hand. His gaze slowly shifts between his parents and me, his tongue pushing into the side of his cheek.
“Oh?” Mr. Summers says, straight-faced. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Somehow, I’m not convinced.
“Right over here is fine, Robert.” Mrs. Summers motions to a spot on the table for Robbie to set the gravy.
“So, Sara Beth,” Mr. Summers says, drawing my attention back to him, “Robert has told me all about this bright future you have.”
“Oh. I–Really?” I stammer, glancing at Robbie. He meets my eyes, but doesn’t say anything. “Well, I’m planning to attend NYU for screenwriting–”
“Any chance you could maybe rub some of that ambition off on our son?” Mr. Summers cuts me off.
I rear back, caught off guard. “What?”
I can see Robbie stiffen in my peripheral vision, his gaze raising slowly to his father.
