“Just a heads up.” I shrugged, walking out to intercept my mother. “Hey. Just letting you know I have a friend over. Don’t give her the fifth degree.”
“How does Karina feel about that?” Mom pursed her lips together, eyebrows furrowed.
“She’s dating someone else,” I lied. Well, it wasn’t a complete lie. She had a casual hookup on our off stages, trying to make me jealous. I figured she was back with him.
“Oh?” Mom looked genuinely hurt. “Who?”
“Just some guy from class.”
“Who do you have over then?”
“Eliza Walsh.” I felt like I was in middle school again, bringing my first little girlfriend over. Mom and Dad were painfully over interested and I was just awkward.
Mom wrinkled her nose. “I know that name. Walsh. It’s not got a great connotation.”
“Good thing her name is Eliza then.”
We walked inside, and Dad was already chatting with Eliza, who looked too paralyzed to move.
“Well, Miss Walsh,” Mom said, making a point to look over at me as she drew out her last name. “Looks like you’ve made yourself right at home.” She looked Eliza up and down.
“I got muddy at the festival. Trask was nice enough to let me get cleaned up here so I didn’t ruin my car.”
Dad snorted. “I’ve seen what you drive. I don’t think it would have done much.”
Eliza swallowed hard. “It gets me from point A to point B.” She pursed her lips, clutching the mug in her hand so tight it looked on the verge of shattering.
“How do you know each other?” my mom asked, putting away supplies in the pantry. Dad was pouring himself a beer.
“School,” I interjected. “We share a class.”
“Oh?” my dad perked up at that. “How’d you get into Clarke and Lo?”
I bristled.
Eliza bit her lip before answering. “Just like everyone else.”
“I mean how?” Dad laughed at the awkwardness, or maybe he was simply immune to it. He was using his lawyer voice, interrogating her, and I felt helpless, just watching it all unfold. “I understand you live with your grandparents, yes?”
Eliza nodded. “Scholarship, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“There it is.” My dad smiled. “Don’t forget to send out thank-you notes to the hefty donors. I’m sure they’ll love to see their charity at work.”
“Hey now—” I interrupted but Eliza stood.
“Not a scholarship from the school. I’m sorry but you won’t be getting a little note from me. Scholarship from a national honor society. But keep writing your checks, I’m sure you’ll get your thank you cards soon enough.” As she spoke she rinsed out her cup and put it in the dishwasher. “Thanks, Trask. I’m gonna get my clothes from the dryer. In the hall, right?”
I gulped. “Yeah. I’ll show you.”
“I got it.” She nearly fled from the room.
“She’s got a mouth on her,” Dad said, jaw clenched.
“Yeah she does. Tastes like sugar too.”
“Trask Allen Davis!” Mom scolded. “Watch your tongue.”
“It works just fine. Just ask Eliza.”