“You’re going to keep him here as a hostage,” Mike said. “Nice.
His uncle’s loaded.”
Ally ignored him. “I know you have this whole social media aversion thing—”
“I’d rather read . . . or go on a hike,” I replied automatically. “I’m content with texting.”
“No excuses,” she said, wagging her finger in my face. “We’re setting you up a facebook page right now. ”
“Uh—” I started. But she was already heading to my laptop.
“No! A blog—make him do a blog.” Sam stood up, trotting to meet her and sliding into the chair at my desk before she had a chance to.
“Wait a sec—” I shook my head, but Ally had already begun to giggle, whispering in Sam’s ear while he typed.
“Give the guy a break,” Mike said. “He’s already being exiled from the coolest city in the continental U.S. and now you’re giving him homework.”
Ally glared at him. “I know what I’m doing.”
“You’re the expert,” he said, giving me an “I tried” glance. But she was right. Ally was the social sun around which we all orbited.
9
“A blog and facebook it is,” Sam announced. He clicked between two screens, as of yet empty templates. Tabula rasa: a clean slate, like my new life.
“I don’t know about this,” I said. “What am I supposed to write about? I don’t think people will want to read about my boring life.”
“Write nice things about us,” Ally said. “We’re suckers for flat-tery. And witticisms. I believe you are capable of witticisms.”
I raise an eyebrow at her. “Give me an example.”
“If you need an example, I may have been wrong about you,”
Ally said.
“You have to let us know you’re doing okay.” Kate pulled the hoodie a little tighter around her. I doubted I would ever get it back.
I peered over Sam’s shoulder. “fine. But how am I supposed to even use these? You made up the password. I don’t know it.”
Ally grinned. “Sure you do.”
She waited a beat, watching me.
I began to laugh. “Nutclubber.”
“What else?” She hugged me, and I made a mental note to change it as soon as I had a minute alone. I didn’t want to imagine all the things Mike and Sam would post if I left the sites open to them.
Ally’s phone buzzed. She looked at it and began texting with the speed and precision of a cyborg.
“Your first send-off is at Lisbeth’s house tonight,” she said.
“My first send-off?” I asked.
“Sure.” She smiled at me. “You have two nights left in Portland, right?”
God, I’d miss this place.
two
After two nigHts of going-AwAy parties I was not of a mind, body, or spirit to climb into a car with a driver who looked like at any moment his muscles were going to rip right through his dark suit. Why my uncle’s drivers always looked like they could double as pro wrestlers never failed to perplex me. I tried to stay hidden behind my sunglasses as I was driven to a private airstrip and herded to my uncle’s Gulfstream G650.
Like with the moving argument, I’d learned that trying to convince Bosque I’d be happier flying on a commercial airline like normal people rather than taking these trips featuring only me, the pilot, and a flight attendant was completely pointless. As usual the latter member of that party looked twenty-something with piles of midnight curls rolling over her shoulders and enough buttons on her blouse undone to leave more than a teasing glimpse of her abundant cleavage. I knew that would be a bonus for any normal warm-blooded teenage male or something, but considering it was my uncle’s plane, I was slightly creeped out. After my second going-away party, I was more in a state to cuddle with a toilet than a hot girl, so it only left me more pissed off.
The trip from Portland to Vail was mercifully short. And with the flight attendant serving me ginger ale after ginger ale, I almost felt normal by the time I exited the plane. I stopped in surprise, not at the sight of another hulking driver waiting for me, but because my uncle stood next to him. I knew he said he’d be there when we spoke on the phone, but part of me didn’t believe it would actually happen.
Never in all the moves I’d made, and those numbered more than I cared to count, had Bosque been around to welcome me to my new
“home”—this was like the director of the fBI showing up to usher an informant into witness protection.
He lifted his hand in greeting as I approached, a brief smile touching his lips. “Seamus.”
“Hey, Uncle Bosque,” I said. I’d never been able to get a fix on Bosque’s age. His attitude led me to believe he was my mother’s older brother, but his hair was impossibly free of gray. Considering he made a zillion dollars or something every year, he could afford a decent haircut, but instead his dark hair was slicked backed so it clung to his scalp tighter than a helmet. He didn’t quite manage up-to-date fashion either. His suits looked like they’d been tailored in the 1920s, though they were obviously brand new.
He patted my shoulder. Bosque wasn’t big on hugs, and that was okay by me. The driver opened the door to the car, and Bosque gestured for me to get in. He slid into the seat beside me. The car rolled away from the plane and onto the airport’s service road. My instinct was to peer out the tinted windows so I could gaze at the mountains, but I figured if Bosque was here, he wanted to talk to me.
“I trust you’re well,” he said.
“Well enough.” My headache was gone. But I’d been planning on using the rest of the day for a nap. I hoped my uncle didn’t have big plans for us.
Bosque slid his dark suit jacket off his shoulders, folding it in his lap. “I thought it best that I join you here for a few days. It’s only proper, given that this house holds so much of the family legacy within its walls.”
I nodded, though I wasn’t following his line of thought.
“I also need to make a few visits to the school,” he said. “Their admissions process is more rigorous than that of any institution you’ve attended. There will be a slight delay before you can begin classes.”
My eyebrows went up. “Is there a problem?” It couldn’t be my grades, because those were always good. Besides, even if I’d been an academic disaster, Bosque was the sort of man who snapped his fingers and changed the world. I couldn’t imagine what the holdup could be.
His uncle’s loaded.”
Ally ignored him. “I know you have this whole social media aversion thing—”
“I’d rather read . . . or go on a hike,” I replied automatically. “I’m content with texting.”
“No excuses,” she said, wagging her finger in my face. “We’re setting you up a facebook page right now. ”
“Uh—” I started. But she was already heading to my laptop.
“No! A blog—make him do a blog.” Sam stood up, trotting to meet her and sliding into the chair at my desk before she had a chance to.
“Wait a sec—” I shook my head, but Ally had already begun to giggle, whispering in Sam’s ear while he typed.
“Give the guy a break,” Mike said. “He’s already being exiled from the coolest city in the continental U.S. and now you’re giving him homework.”
Ally glared at him. “I know what I’m doing.”
“You’re the expert,” he said, giving me an “I tried” glance. But she was right. Ally was the social sun around which we all orbited.
9
“A blog and facebook it is,” Sam announced. He clicked between two screens, as of yet empty templates. Tabula rasa: a clean slate, like my new life.
“I don’t know about this,” I said. “What am I supposed to write about? I don’t think people will want to read about my boring life.”
“Write nice things about us,” Ally said. “We’re suckers for flat-tery. And witticisms. I believe you are capable of witticisms.”
I raise an eyebrow at her. “Give me an example.”
“If you need an example, I may have been wrong about you,”
Ally said.
“You have to let us know you’re doing okay.” Kate pulled the hoodie a little tighter around her. I doubted I would ever get it back.
I peered over Sam’s shoulder. “fine. But how am I supposed to even use these? You made up the password. I don’t know it.”
Ally grinned. “Sure you do.”
She waited a beat, watching me.
I began to laugh. “Nutclubber.”
“What else?” She hugged me, and I made a mental note to change it as soon as I had a minute alone. I didn’t want to imagine all the things Mike and Sam would post if I left the sites open to them.
Ally’s phone buzzed. She looked at it and began texting with the speed and precision of a cyborg.
“Your first send-off is at Lisbeth’s house tonight,” she said.
“My first send-off?” I asked.
“Sure.” She smiled at me. “You have two nights left in Portland, right?”
God, I’d miss this place.
two
After two nigHts of going-AwAy parties I was not of a mind, body, or spirit to climb into a car with a driver who looked like at any moment his muscles were going to rip right through his dark suit. Why my uncle’s drivers always looked like they could double as pro wrestlers never failed to perplex me. I tried to stay hidden behind my sunglasses as I was driven to a private airstrip and herded to my uncle’s Gulfstream G650.
Like with the moving argument, I’d learned that trying to convince Bosque I’d be happier flying on a commercial airline like normal people rather than taking these trips featuring only me, the pilot, and a flight attendant was completely pointless. As usual the latter member of that party looked twenty-something with piles of midnight curls rolling over her shoulders and enough buttons on her blouse undone to leave more than a teasing glimpse of her abundant cleavage. I knew that would be a bonus for any normal warm-blooded teenage male or something, but considering it was my uncle’s plane, I was slightly creeped out. After my second going-away party, I was more in a state to cuddle with a toilet than a hot girl, so it only left me more pissed off.
The trip from Portland to Vail was mercifully short. And with the flight attendant serving me ginger ale after ginger ale, I almost felt normal by the time I exited the plane. I stopped in surprise, not at the sight of another hulking driver waiting for me, but because my uncle stood next to him. I knew he said he’d be there when we spoke on the phone, but part of me didn’t believe it would actually happen.
Never in all the moves I’d made, and those numbered more than I cared to count, had Bosque been around to welcome me to my new
“home”—this was like the director of the fBI showing up to usher an informant into witness protection.
He lifted his hand in greeting as I approached, a brief smile touching his lips. “Seamus.”
“Hey, Uncle Bosque,” I said. I’d never been able to get a fix on Bosque’s age. His attitude led me to believe he was my mother’s older brother, but his hair was impossibly free of gray. Considering he made a zillion dollars or something every year, he could afford a decent haircut, but instead his dark hair was slicked backed so it clung to his scalp tighter than a helmet. He didn’t quite manage up-to-date fashion either. His suits looked like they’d been tailored in the 1920s, though they were obviously brand new.
He patted my shoulder. Bosque wasn’t big on hugs, and that was okay by me. The driver opened the door to the car, and Bosque gestured for me to get in. He slid into the seat beside me. The car rolled away from the plane and onto the airport’s service road. My instinct was to peer out the tinted windows so I could gaze at the mountains, but I figured if Bosque was here, he wanted to talk to me.
“I trust you’re well,” he said.
“Well enough.” My headache was gone. But I’d been planning on using the rest of the day for a nap. I hoped my uncle didn’t have big plans for us.
Bosque slid his dark suit jacket off his shoulders, folding it in his lap. “I thought it best that I join you here for a few days. It’s only proper, given that this house holds so much of the family legacy within its walls.”
I nodded, though I wasn’t following his line of thought.
“I also need to make a few visits to the school,” he said. “Their admissions process is more rigorous than that of any institution you’ve attended. There will be a slight delay before you can begin classes.”
My eyebrows went up. “Is there a problem?” It couldn’t be my grades, because those were always good. Besides, even if I’d been an academic disaster, Bosque was the sort of man who snapped his fingers and changed the world. I couldn’t imagine what the holdup could be.
