Page 20 of Two Kinds of Us

“Unfortunately, my shift’s almost over. But you ladies enjoy your meal.”

Before he walked away, Harry smiled around the table at us, and it might’ve been my panicked line of thinking, but I thought his eyes lingered on me.

“Why wasn’t he on the menu?” Nancy demanded, not even being discreet about staring at his backside as he walked away. “Did you see that tattoo?”

“That boy is too young for you, Ms. Nancy,” Mrs. Conan murmured in a conspiratorial tone.

“And he looks liketrouble,” Mom interjected, folding her napkin across her lap, judgment dripping from her voice. “Ms. Nancy, I don’t think you need more wine.”

“I have to agree with Ms. Nancy—he wascute.” Grace tapped her chin. “And a little familiar.”

Nancy rolled her eyes at all of us and grasped her silverware. “Looked like he had his eye on Destelle there, anyway.”

I could feel all the ladies turn to look at me—Mom’s stare especially—but I forced myself to stir the nonfat dressing into my salad, careful not to let any spill over the sides.

I still couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that Harry worked at Le Petit Bateau. I’d never noticed him on our previous brunch days. Had he been working here long?

Although I wasn’t supposed to know Harry, I tried to crane my head as discreetly as possible, attempting to spot him. He had said his shift was almost over—had he left? That’d probably be a good thing. He didn’t know Destelle, and the least amount of interaction with him as Destelle was best. Especially when I had my mother at my elbow.

My phone vibrated once more underneath my leg, and I itched to pull it out. Mom would no doubt catch me, probably pinch me again. But I couldn’t help myself.

Margot:Maybe someday something actually interesting might happen at those things. You might die of boredom otherwise.

You have no idea, I longed to text back, but I set into eating my salad, my mind still reeling.

“Thank you for being on your best behavior,” Mom said on the car ride home, both of her hands clutching the steering wheel. She drove the speed limit, eyes never leaving the road. Always responsible. “I know those lunches can be…trying.”

More like mind-melting. “I enjoyed the company.”

“Oh, I almost forgot. I signed you up for a half hour time slot at the senior facility downtown on Thursday, at five-thirty. I know that’s cutting it close to when we eat dinner, but that was the last time slot they needed filled for the week. They need someone to chat with the patients for a little while. If you’re a little late getting home, that’s okay.”

I focused on my breathing, slow and steady, in and out. “Thank you for always being on the lookout for opportunities,” I told her quietly.

“I mailed the scholarship packets out,” she informed me, breaking for a slow-moving car. “Except the one for the Alderton Foundation—you missed a question on it, one about what your college plans are. I left it on your desk. We should come to a decision for when the acceptance letters come in. I know all the choices can be daunting, so we should weigh the pros and cons seriously.”

I stared out the windshield, the snow-covered landscape passing us by.

“The big-name colleges are still on our list,” Mom went on. “Mullhound is on there as well, as is Hartford. What was the other one we were thinking of again? Castleton University?”

A word that Mom used triggered in my mind.Our. Onourlist. As if she had just as much say in the choice of where I attended college as I did.

“Destelle,” Mom said, her voice gaining strength. “Are you listening to me?”

“I’m listening,” I replied automatically. “I was also thinking about Ashton.”

Once it was out of my mouth, I couldn’t take the words back.

“Ashton,” she echoed, confusion furrowing her brow. “I can’t recall that one. Where is it located?”

I curled my hands into fists, wishing my nails were longer so they’d bite into the skin. “It’s an online school.”

They were fighting words, and I knew that. Especially since wejusttalked about this. But hearing her talk about my future as an adult like she had complete control of it made me want to scream. In Mom’s mind, I might as well have told her I wanted to join the circus. She wanted me, her firstborn, to go to a fancy college. One where tuition was a fortune.

And I knew exactly why she wanted that for me. It wasn’t because she wanted me to have a nice education.

She only wanted to brag about it to all her friends. “Oh, Destelle got three scholarships” or “Destelle went to Mullhound” or “Destelle got into law school.” My name got thrown into the mix, but it was never about me.

“We discussed this, Destelle. Online school isn’t good enough for you,” Mom decided at last, and her level voice surprised me.

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