Page 17 of Mostly My Boss
“Daniel,” he offered. “What kind of fucking question is that? You don’t even know me.”
“He thinks everyone is fucked up because of their family. And oh, Iampoor and only here on scholarship. Just FYI.”
“Sorry if I offended.”
I shrugged. “Not so much.”
He also had the soup and started to eat. “What?” he asked as we looked at him. “There’s nowhere else to sit right now. I’m stuck with you two.”
“Yep. Right,” Ethan said, attempting to downplay his awkward introduction. “Anyway, Julia. My point is I’m not buying your sad story as an excuse for slumping.”
“I’m pretty sure I didn’t start slouching when my dad died. It was more of a learned style.”
“Sorry about your dad,” Daniel said around a mouthful of soup.
“Thanks.”
“I’m sorry, too,” Ethan said. “I didn’t mean to be callous. I should have said that first. Shit, did I fuck that up again?”
Daniel gave an exaggerated nod around his spoon.
“Dude, you weren’t even here,” Ethan objected.
“You are not smooth, my brother. Just putting that out there.”
“So you’re an alum kid?” I asked Daniel, trying to change the conversation.
“Yeah. Both Mom and Pop. Had no choice, really. Ask me what I want to be, though.”
“A rap star?” Ethan asked.
I rolled my eyes and could see Daniel shaking his head in disbelief.
“What? I was going for the most opposite thing of a congressman or lawyer I could think of. That’s not racist!”
“You’re lucky I don’t expect much out of white dudes,” Daniel said. “No, I want to race cars. Like stock cars. Daytona and shit. Got into it back home with my girlfriend’s family. Yes, Ethan, they’re Caucasian.” Daniel said that last part with an exaggerated white-boy accent.
I chuckled and enjoyed the flare of red that lit Ethan’s upper cheeks. Since I’d met him, it felt like he’d been in control of everything, but now, with Daniel, he was clearly flummoxed.
“Anyway, my parents laughed when I told them what I wanted to do and handed me the application to Harvard. So here I am. For how long remains to be seen.”
“Me, too,” I agreed.
“What does that mean?” Ethan asked me. “Why would you leave?”
“Hello?” I said as if it was obvious, although I imagined it wasn’t to them. They didn’t live with the kind of insecurity I did. “Scholarships get pulled. If I don’t make grades, if I have any kind of criminal offense...”
“You looking to commit felonies, baby?” Daniel asked.
“Don’t call her baby,” Ethan asserted. “If I can’t assume you like rap, you can’t use misogynist vocabulary with Julia. And what crimes are we talking about?”
“Drinking underage. Possession of marijuana. Because no one in college ever did or was around anyone who did those things. I’m walking a tightrope. That’s all.”
Ethan frowned. “I’m going to get dessert. They’ve got hot apple pie. Does anyone want anything?”
“Yeah, hook me up. With ice cream, too. Chocolate though. None of that vanilla shit.” Daniel laughed at his own joke.
I shook my head, thinking I needed to be careful. I only had one medium T-shirt and I didn’t want to stretch it.
