Just Friends - Chapter 24: Chapter 24

Spencer's POV
"I can't believe Mrs. Harper just sprung that pop quiz on me like that!" Ethan boomed, aggressively ripping into his cheese and ham sandwich that he haphazardly threw together this morning because (once again) he woke up late. "I mean," he continued with his mouth full, "who does she think she is!?" he spat – literally. I was sure pieces of bread and crunched up ham bits landed in Joseph Taylor's 50% soy milk on the other side of the classroom.
"First of all," I mumbled, just barely paying attention to his rant because I decided to scribble incoherently in the back of my notebook, "It's not a pop quiz if you get a two week notice, secondly, she's the teacher so she's allowed to do that and lastly, can you stop eating and screaming at once? You're getting your germs everywhere."
"Hey," he said/choked, placing the sandwich on his black and white book once he noticed that he had misplaced the container. "I'm just saying. She could have had some respect." He growled, swallowing whatever was left in his mouth. "It's my birth-week."
"For the hundredth time this week, eightieth time today and fourteenth time this past hour, despite what Victorious told you, there is no such thing as a birth-week and secondly, maybe if you'd put in some work once and a while, you wouldn't have probably failed that test – not quiz – that we just took."
He growled. "Well, first of all Mr. Know-It All, there is no difference between a test and a quiz and if I didn't study, then how do you explain me being in AP Biology?"
"Please," I snorted, "Mrs. Harper has the hots for you. She probably switched all of your wrong answers and recommended you so she could catch a glimpse of your low V-neck T-shirts." I remarked, only half joking. "It's a wonder she hasn't jumped your bones yet."
"Probably because it's a felony."
"Stay out of this, Mathew." I growled, not even caring enough to look back at him. Of all the classes that Mathew irritated me the most in (and there were a few), Spanish had to be worst because it was the only class than he, Ethan and I all shared together. And to make matters worse, he sat behind us near the center of the room.
"There you go again, being bossy." Ethan responded, folding his arms across his chest.
"Eat your sandwich, Ethan." I muttered and a harsh gust of air flew out of his nostrils in response.
"I'm going to get a sprite." He announced and propped up from his seat next to me. But it didn't stay vacated for long. Mathew took it upon himself to sit his behind down next to me and as hard as I tried to ignore him, that smug smirk that I saw at the corner of my eyes was too annoying to be physically ignored.
I sighed. "What do you want, Mathew."
He shrugged. "Nada, Senor Spencer."
I rolled my eyes. "I'm not in the mood for speaking a foreign language, Mathew."
He furrowed his brows but kept the smirk. "¿Por qué? Esta es la clase de español?"
"Class hasn't started yet, now has it?"
He shrugged. "La práctica hace perfecto."
I tried to ignore him again but he kept that stupid smirk with those dead eyes on me and it literally felt like he was clawing my eyes out.
I turned my body slightly to face him, giving him a look that told him that I wasn't going to enjoy indulging him. And that made him smile a little bit wider. "¿Qué quieres, Mathew?" I asked lazily.
He smiled. "Tu todavía va a Nueva York?"
"No."
"¿Por qué no?"
I took a moment before answering. "Las cosas cambian."
"I see." He answered with a slight tilt of his head upwards. "And how does your Dad feel about you staying with your boyfriend?"
I looked down briefly but instantly cursed myself while doing so. I looked back up and Mathew was smiling knowingly – just slightly. "I never said that I was staying with Ethan."
"You didn't have to really." He noted, brushing nonexistent dirt off of his buttoned up plaid t-shirt. "Unless they were going to allow you stay at your old home by yourself – which I didn't exactly rule out – the only other logical option is that they're letting you stay with someone." he said. "And, who better than Ethan Littman, which is probably," he stopped, "no, definitely the reason you're staying here instead of heading to NYC."
"Yeah, well," I muttered, as I turned back to my Spanish book and just mindlessly stared at the black and white cover. My name was neatly written on the top line with the 'Spanish/ Espanol neatly written on the second. "I made a choice."
"And to think I would have had to find someone else to torment for seven hours a day." He chided with a grin.
"Lucky me." I sang with a grin of my own. I turned back to him. "What would you say if I said that I wasn't so sure about all of this?"
He thought for a quick second. "I'd say you sound like Spencer." He noted. "Forever over analyzing everything. From his hair to his clothes to his relationships." Mathew placed a hand on top of mine and I instantly pulled it from under his. That led him to smirk and pull back in his chair and crossed his leg. "See," he chuckled, "a simple hand on top of the other hand made you think that I was interested."
"Please," I scoffed, massaging that hand lightly; although I wasn't sure why, "you've been interested since the seventh grade."
"In your destruction maybe." He commented. "I wasn't so keen on having intellectual competition. But it was never really anything romantic. I don't believe in the sleeping with the enemy angle."
"Neither do I."
"Good." He replied before shifting back forward to me. "But you said you were unsure about staying. Why?"
I narrowed my eyes. "How do I know you're genuinely interested in my personal problems?"
He smirked. "Come on Spence," he chuckled, moving some of his curly, stringy hair out of his face, "you've known me long enough to know that I couldn't care less about your love and/or romantic life and that by you telling me this you're basically giving me live ammo to destroy you when the 2013 Science Fair rolls around next year." He noted, amazingly honest and I wish I could say that kind of truthfulness was surprising. "But, my Ipod is dead, we're both on the Decathlon Team so no conflict of interest and I'm spectacularly bored right now." I blinked and he shrugged. "So, think of me as your personal Oprah. You know, without the chocolate skin or bob cut."
I rolled my eyes, but elaborated anyway. What was there to lose that he didn't already disclose? I pushed my desk closer to his – or well, Ethan's – and closed the gap in between them as a way to ensure that no one else would hear. Our knees were slightly touching but that didn't matter. "My dad closed all of my bank accounts and before you ask me about it, yes, I have multiple accounts at different banks. The point is, he drained them and closed them." I whsipered, "I'm essentially broke."
"So, what, you're thinking of moving with them so you can spare yourself a few dollars?"
I scoffed. "Try half a million, Mathew."
"You're a Haynes, Spencer. That's a few dollars."
"I don't appreciate your patronizing tone." I retorted, giving him a stiffened gaze, though he hardly looked moved by it. "This is no time to throw the fact that my family has money in my face. I cannot allow myself to become a burden on the Littman family. Josh is going to college in January and I don't know if he's going to get the scholarship he's after."
"And you don't want them to have to pay for your school things as well?"
"Exactly." I sighed. "It's one thing to eat their food and dirty their dishes, it's a whole other thing to put them in a financial rut."
"Oh please," Mathew snorted, "Ethan's folks are doing okay. They're not as well off as your parents but, their upper middleclass. I think they can afford to take on one more extra load."
I shook my head. "That's the point. They shouldn't have to. I'm not their child." I huffed the same time as he did. "This is what my dad wants. He's counting on these stupid human emotions to overpower me and get me to move with him."
He lifted a brow. "Or maybe you're being an over analytical freak." He paused. "Or, well, a Spencer."
I pouted slightly. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He shook his head. "It means that maybe you're just making all this up in your head. Maybe you're making up excuses because you don't want to leave your parents and just giving yourself ways to get out of your current situation. Maybe you're not concerned about the Littman's financial problems if they take you in, maybe you're just concerned that you're going to have to downgrade your standard of living."
"You make it seem as if I'm being high maintenance." I grunted.
He shrugged. "If the golden, customized sneaker fits..."
"Look, whatever. I'm not paranoid. My Dad is playing war games and it's only a matter of time before he pulls out big guns."
"So why haven't you started attacking him back?"
"I have." I sighed. "But everything I've done so far has been futile."
Mathew went silent for a while. His eyes were narrowed and he was rubbing the few little hairs under his chin thoughtfully, and gazing into my eyes, although it seemed that he was more so looking passed them. A few silent out seconds later, a slight smirk appeared on his lips. "What if I make you an Ace in The Hole? Something so effective that your dad would have no choice but to back down?"
"Absolutely not!" I whisper-yelled.
He frowned. "Why not?"
I narrowed my eyes and backed up a bit. "You know why, Mathew. Or do I have to remind you of the time you Carrie-ed me when we were both running for student council back in middle school." It took me a week to get the scent of pig's blood out of my nose.
It took him a while to remember but, once he did, a little chuckle escaped him. "How could I forget?" he snickered. "And, I see your point."
"Thank you." I grunted, with a small trace of disdain at the memory. "You take things way too far."
He scoffed. "And you don't?" he questioned rhetorically and with enough dissonance that it earned him an eye roll. "You almost killed me once, remember?"
I waved him off. "Oh, stop being over dramatic." I scoffed. "They got it out didn't they? And I didn't know that it was poisonous."
He folded his arms over his chest. "Or so you claim."
"And so a jury agreed." I shot back.
"Touche." He retorted before settling back into his seat comfortably. "Look, I'll create you an Ace in the Hole. One that won't maim, poison or kill anyone or anything – at least not directly." He placed his right hands over his left breast. "You have my word."
I scoffed at that. Mathew's word was as good as his mother's cooking. "Fine." I huffed. "But Mathew?"
"Because I don't like seeing you conflicted" he answered. "You don't have to ask the question, Spence. Believe it or not, I kind of sort of care for your wellbeing, if not just because I like toying with you and vice versa."
I rolled my eyes but couldn't stop the smile from appearing on my lips. "Gracias." I was sure I was going to regret saying that.
Yup. Totally.
"De nada." He chuckled. "Next time," he muttered as he got up, "we speak Japanese, so I suggest you catch up on your anime."
A few hours had slipped passed and by three o'clock, Mathew had given me an envelope that he told to hand to Ethan. He told me to make him read it aloud in front of my parents – specifically dad and it was a surefire way to get him to lay off and return my money to me. His explanation for having Ethan read it was that it would sound far more believable coming from him. Which meant that it was stupid/reckless/dangerous or some toxic combination of the three.
He also told me not to open it beforehand because I had to be 100% credible when whatever was in it was read. That made me nervous for all the right reasons. But I obeyed. I didn't tear nor tether the seal of that cream colored envelope with an Einstein quote neatly handwritten on the front of it.
"I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones."
I stared at the note all night on the night stand as I listened to Ethan snore away and oddly (but not uncharacteristically) fight off Nazis in his sleep.
We watched Inglorious Basterds that night.
By the time morning had come, Ethan was still sleeping and I decided that perhaps this was the perfect time for some peace and quiet away from his boisterousness that I was starting to adjust being around 24-7. Starting being the key word. So I slipped away to the kitchen after getting ready for what was going to be a stressful Saturday.
"I take it by the way you're aggressively eating that bowl of cereal that you didn't have a good night."
"Ha-Ha." I mumbled, dropping my spoon back into the bowl and peering up at a half clothed Josh. "You're hilarious."
Josh bowed mockingly and took a seat next to me at the kitchen counter. "So what did he do this time?"
I blinked and cocked my head, only to be imitated by the older male. I sighed. "Amazingly, Ethan didn't do anything." I answered. "What makes you think that he did?" I asked. "Did you hear us fighting over movie choices too?"
"Yup. And kind of clearly." He answered. "The wall that separates your room from mine is paper thin." He grabbed my bowl, "I hear more conversations...and noises than I probably should."
"Gross." I muttered and snatched the bowl back before he had a chance to dig into it. "I'm just nervous today is all. I'm going home – or well what I used to call home – today to collect the rest of my things." I muttered. "Mr. and Mrs. Haynes have been kind enough to rent me a moving van to get my things here." I added cynically.
"That sucks." Josh blurted in between two blinks and tried, but failed to regain possession of the bowl of Fruit Loops. He pouted. "Why don't you and your parents just come to some sort of agreement? Like you come down when you can but just school here? Or vice versa?"
"Because my parents have the extremely attractive trait of wanting things to go their way or no way. Agreement, mediation or conformity aren't words my parents use." I said. "It's like the Voldemort of their vocabulary."
Josh raised a brow. "That seems kind of mean."
"It's how things work. It's how they've always worked." I responded, getting up with the bowl in my hands and resting it in the sink. "I guess I just accepted that a time long ago."
Josh smiled sympathetically. "Well, you're in good hands. I've already started referring to you as my brother."
I smirked. "About time." I snickered. "I've been calling you that for years." I smiled and went back over to grab my keys. "Tell Ethan where I am." I murmured before slipping out the kitchen door and into my car.
Saturday mornings on Sunshine Lane started out the same every day. At 6, the porch lights were turned off as a part of the agreed upon 'energy conservation' agenda that Mrs. Rosemary, the sixty-something year old neighborhood captain had created. At 7:am, men were collecting the mornings newspapers from their porches and waving at one another from across the street. By 7:30 – breakfast and by 8:45 a.m., women were out jogging for no reason other than to just be jogging. Or to spy on their neighbors.
But, today, the neighbored at 8 was in a state of a certain unrest. Newspapers were still out on lawns and women weren't slowly jogging while secretly peering into the living rooms of the houses they passed by.
The Haynes were moving. The polished, seemingly perfect family was moving on to bigger and better things in the Big Apple and people were helping them pack their things as a way to say goodbye, quite possibly forever.
And by helping, I meant standing on the front lawn chatting with one another as to why we were really moving as hired workers did what they could to get everything out of the house and into one of the three moving vans out front.
I decided to park about a few doorsteps away from my house to avoid the annoying wives who had nothing really better to do but make assumptions as to where I was all night. So I slipped around the back when all of them were preoccupied and into the glass door of the kitchen only to be caught by the one wife that I wanted to avoid the most.
"Spencer." Mom called with a smile and I sighed exasperatedly as I closed the kitchen's sliding door. Mom frowned as she took off one of her floral print mittens. "I didn't think you'd be here so early." She said, turning off of the stove and opening the oven.
"I just want to get this over with." I muttered as I moved to exit the kitchen but, was stopped by her calling once again.
"Spencer Haynes." She said, stiffly. "I haven't seen you in a week. The least you can do is give me a hug."
"Okay," I muttered as I leaned up against the wall near the door, "that'll be one hundred dollars."
"Stop being a child, Spencer." She spat as she took out a batch of pink cupcakes out of the oven with the one mitten that was still on her right hand. "So we took away your money. It's not the end of the world." She rested them on the counter but not before spreading a towel where she rested it.
"Easy for you to say." I spat right back. "You're not the one who's going to bankrupt an entire family just by living with them."
She narrowed her eyes and folded her arms. "Do you really think that you're going to financially murder The Littman's?"
"Possibly, Mrs. Haynes." I answered spitefully. "I don't even need a lot of the money." She rolled her eyes and I pushed off the wall and moved closer to the counter where she started to frost the cupcakes. I placed my hands flatly on the counter and leaned forward slightly. "I just need enough that I wouldn't have to depend on them so much." I bargained, but no dice.
"Spencer, we already gave them legal consent to take you in." she answered, fanning the cupcakes. "Your father won't do anything else. Taking the money is a way of showing you that we're letting you go – physically and financially."
That...stung. "What's next? Are you going to 'let me go' emotionally too?" I bit. "And don't pretend as if this isn't a ploy to get me to move with you, Mrs. Haynes."
She gave me one more steel stare before picking up her tray with a gentle huff. "We're having a quiet farewell dinner tonight." She said, completely ignoring my previous statement. "I was going to phone Alec and M later, but since you are here, you can tell them they are all invited to say goodbye." She said, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have guests outside." She left through the kitchen door.
I snorted. Knowing mom's baking skills, I wouldn't be surprised if she had no one left after they saw her coming with that tray in her hand. I exited the kitchen and made sure to doge any and every other human being that was walking through the house until I got to my room.
Or, well, what used to be my room. Basically, as it stood at the moment, it was just a hole in the wall with several Sprite soda carpet stains and dark spots on the walls where furniture and/or posters were taken down. Most of my things were already packed from the last time I was here. Furniture that I wouldn't need was presumably being stored or carried to NYC with them.
I took a deep breath as I stepped into the room and closed the door behind, even though I had no idea when I did or why I did. It just sort of happened. I paced to the center of the room, hovering just in front of where my bed usually sat and just sort of looked. Not at anything in particular; my eyes didn't stay on one figure or corner for more than a second, but long enough for me to just remember things.
Memories of me and Ethan and Kai, Karly and Abby and Suzy and how things change really really fast. Just last week I was in this room with my head pressed up against my backboard listening to songs from my childhood. From Destiny's Child to 2000s U2.
But one memory stuck out the most.
"Why do people die?" I had asked, tucked snuggly underneath my covers. My pet goldfish had died that morning. It was the first time I had encountered death and needlessly to say, I was a bit shaken by the sight of Stewart lying on his back like he was trying to get a tan.
"Because that's the natural cycle of things." Dad had answered as he hovered over me. "Things die so other things can live."
"Bu-but why? Why can't we all live?"
Dad furrowed his brows. "It just doesn't work that way son." He answered, "Did you really think that Stewart would stay with you forever?"
I gulped. "I was hoping he would."
I remember add chuckling deeply. "Hope is a human invention, son. It's how we play tricks on ourselves." He patted my forehead and turned off the light. "Now, get some sleep. It'll be better in the morning."
And it was.
That conversation shaped me in ways that I didn't quite understand at the time. I was taught, in a conversation that seemed so vague and irrelevant for years (but I always did remember it clear as day) that everyone doesn't stick around forever. That, one day, my parents would be gone, and Ethan...and me. And just like that my sweet innocent outlook on the world changed. Everything wasn't lilacs and periwinkles anymore. Sweet Spencer was gone and Spence the Cynic was born.
Needless to say, I haven't had a pet since.
Later that day after all of my things had been collected, I swung back to the Littman's and we all started getting dressed for what would become, without a shadow of a doubt, an apocalyptic war ground between two opposing forces where we both would possibly make our last stands. And I wasn't entirely exaggerating.
I picked up the envelope that Mathew handed to me and tucked it into my pocket as all of us got inside the Littman family car that was affectionately called the Litt Mobile.
I gagged at the batman reference, but couldn't help but admire how cheesy it was.
That was another thing. The Littmans were weird people. And that's coming from someone who has known them for years.
They were dysfunctional in a way that could be explosive but, somehow remained stable. Mr. Littman – or Alec as he told me to call him – was a bumbling mess most of time. He fell over everything (including air) and spat milk through his nose whenever someone said the word Missouri. I never asked why. It can kind of scared me to know why, really. Margret Littman was a great cook but loved practical jokes. So, whenever she made something, it was a game of chance eating it. It would either be delicious, or it would explode in your face. Maybe both. She always gave you the choice beforehand though. She was like the Harvey Dent of cooking.
Josh usually stayed out of everyone's way. He spent most of his time reading book after book or practicing his swimming so he'd finally get the scholarship to go to Stanford without burdening his parents, which is why he's still at home. Ethan was Ethan. Though he did spend a lot of his time out into backyard practicing football. Which is interesting to watch because he never talks about it when he's with me.
And they all dressed alike. The color tonight was black. Ethan and Josh both wore tuxedo tops with jean bottoms the adults wore whole tuxedos – Mrs. Littman said she hated dressed and insisted on wearing one of her power suits. Like I said, they were weird. But in a normal kind of way.
A few top nostalgic 90s tunes later, and we were at the front doorsteps of The Haynes'. Josh rang the bell and stepped back beside me, looking down momentarily. "You nervous?" he asked as we awaited a response.
"Like a hooker at mass." I replied as the front door came to a slow open and mom appeared with a smile on her face.
"Good evening." She greeted in her white glittering dress and straightened brunette hair that fell so effortlessly on her shoulders. She moved aside and motioned for us to come in, and as we did, she grabbed me by the hand as to stop me as the others passed. "I have to tell you something." She whispered as she pulled me to the side. Ethan had stopped as well but she promised him that she was borrowing me for a just a millisecond. He looked at me for a split second for confirmation and I nodded.
After he had slipped into the dining room and from sight, mom exhaled and refocused on me. "This better be good." I barked. "I wasn't planning on speaking directly to either of you tonight. I was just going to throw around a few side gazes, a couple of eye rolls and a bevy of passive aggressive remarks that may or may not be regarding your weight."
"Well I'm sorry to ruin your good time, but your father has taken a few precautions to ensure this night goes his way."
I narrowed my eyes. "What kind of precautions?"
She swallowed. "Against my advice...he invited The Martins."
"What." I whisper-yelled. I could feel my heart rate accelerate in my chest. "Why did he invite The Martins?" I asked, holding onto mom's arm for dear life.
"We know, Spencer."
"Know what?"
"Everything. Ethan and Austin. Piper and Ethan. Everything."
I didn't breathe for about a minute. "That's impossible." I exhaled. "How?"
"Not important." She said while shaking her head. "Just know this – this is just a precursor. Your father is going to do everything to make you come with us."
I scoffed shakily out of shock. I couldn't believe he would do something like that. Not to me. But to Ethan. I sucked in a huge breath and cleared my throat. "He's not getting his way tonight, mother." I promised as I shook her hand off of me and headed inside of the sparkling clean dining room. Mom had brought out her silky white table cloth. The one that she said was for looking at and not eating upon.
But tonight, it held several plates of meat, and rice and vegetable and fruit and a plate of peas that spelled disaster if you closed one eye, squinted the other and looked at it at the right angle. The chandelier was also exceptionally polished as well; I was certain I could see myself in it. And Ethan's shock. An Austin's awkwardness. And Dad's malevolent joy.
"Hey, uh, everyone." I greeted but lost a good 90 percent of my steam toward the end once I realized the hardened gazes Mr. and Mrs. Martin were throwing my way.
Yup. It was officially official. This was not good. I opted to sit silently after my failed attempt to say hello next to Ethan who was sweating shotgun barrels already. I took a chance to look up at the rest of the table and noticed that a girl, whom I didn't really see before was sitting in between Austin and Piper. Her hair was this shiny red color that was neatly scissored into a short bob that barley revealed her lightning blue eyes. Her skin was a pasty kind of color and she had a few freckles on her cheeks.
And by the way one of Austin's arms was curled around her neck, I could have only assumed that it was his new girlfriend. Which explains Ethan's uneasiness. And as a way to calm him down, I grabbed one of his hands that was currently making holes in his jeans.
Piper gave me a faint smile but I was a bit too shocked to return it. I guess she understood because her smile went from being haven't seen you in a while authentic to I Know sympathetic.
"Now that my beloved son is here, let's all bow our heads in prayer before we eat this meal prepared by my loving wife." Dad proclaimed and I couldn't help but snort.
And as he started to pray, I poked Ethan's rib to get his attention. He opened up one of his eyes and whispered a 'what?'
"Who all knows?"
He swallowed. "By the looks of all the stink eyes I've been getting from The Martin parents, I'd say China probably knows by now." He slurred and his voice was shaking horribly. "I was so freakin stunned when I saw them here that I prayed that I would just burst into flames but I didn't and now I'm freaking the freak out."
I huffed and swallowed roughly. "I think I bit off more than I can chew."
"You think!" Ethan whisper-yelled. "Aussie brought a date with him, Spence. That's like a slap in the face."
I blinked and coked my head. "What am I, chopped liver?"
"That's different." He scoffed. "You're expected to be here. He could have at least called and said 'Hey, I'm bringing some bimbo slutty whorish hookering hoebag with me. It's just common courtesy.'" He whispered and I smacked him in the back of his head. He grunted as he rubbed it. "What was that for?"
"For being an idiot." I retorted. "Now listen, this is just Dad trying to get to me through you but, it's not going to work. Keep your cool and everything will work itself out, okay?"
Ethan sighed. "You owe so much sex after this." He mumbled.
"Whatever." I muttered. "Amen." I sang uniformly with everyone else as as Dad's ridiculously long prayer came to an end.
The night went as you'd expect it to. Dad asked Austin how he and Grace– an interior designer – got together and they said they met when met at MIT during the summer when she was visiting her brother, Will. Ethan was certainly itching to break someone's face and if I didn't know how insanely jealous he gets over things like this, I would've gotten really jealous myself.
He was like a child who didn't want his toys anymore, but God forbid if anyone else played with them.
"So," Alec chuckled, "where are you two staying until you move to NYC, permanently?"
"The Black Ball Hotel." Mom answered.
"Oh," Mrs. Martin mused, "that's a wonderful choice. Inside is beautiful and the staff is exceptionally well mannered," She took another sip of her red wine, "and professional."
And she sounded about as as diabolical as I expected her to. Given that she had the whole 'I'm a rich mother and wife and I'll destroy you' thing going on for her with that pinned up bun and that dark eye makeup and that piercing almond stare. She exuded insidiousness.
"Well, that's wonderful." Dad laughed. "Maybe Spencer can get a job there when we leave to make a few bucks." He joked and the other adults laughed with him.
Josh patted me on the back, but I wasn't in the mood for compassion. I was on the mood for revenge. "Oh, father." I laughed, cynically; taking a little bite out of the meat that mom prepared before spitting it into a handkerchief. "Don't pretend you haven't been there before." Dad raised a brow and I smirked. "Remember? That Tuesday night sometime last year when you were there with mom?"
Mother narrowed her eyes and laughed nervously, darting her eyes between her husband and her youngest son. "I-I haven't ever been there." She stammered. "When were you there, George?" she questioned.
"That women in the red lacy outfit wasn't mom?" I asked, with an innocent novelty. "My mistake." I mused at a slightly higher pitch.
Mom's eyes flashed over to Dad who was eyeing me with daggers and the only thing I could think was Game. Set. Match. But of course he had an explanation. "It was a gala and the lady in red was Anna Baldwin of The Breast Cancer Foundation. You were out of town and could not attend, but, Ethan," Dad began and the smirk left instantly because somewhere in the back of my mind, I heard a bell ring. It was Round II and dad was looking for a TKO, "have you met Austin and Piper?"
"He has." I answered immediately before Ethan had the chance to stammer.
"I was asking Ethan, Spencer. He's a man, he can speak for himself." Dad chided. "Isn't that right Ethan?"
"Uh, right." My boyfriend laughed with a certain level of nervousness that made him an easy target. "I know them." He swallowed.
"Do you know, Grace?"
Ethan took three seconds. "No."
"She's lovely isn't she?"
He took six seconds. "I guess you can say that."
"We were discussing earlier how nice these two would look married. They fit each other wonderfully."
Ethan didn't answer that at all. "They look like they deserve each other." I commented instead. Austin's face was of obvious regret, Piper looked like she was in pain and Grace looked like a fish out of water who didn't know exactly what was going on but smiled awkwardly at the compliments anyway.
"I'm, uh, going to use the bathroom." Ethan mumbled but I stopped him before he could stand up.
I didn't think I had a choice anymore. This had gone on for long enough and seeing Ethan's face twist into a frown was hurting me more than it was hurting him. So, I slipped the envelope out of my pocket and handed it to him. "Don't asked any questions." I murmured into his ear. "Stand up and read what's on it."
I could only pray that Mathew's Ace in the Hole was as effective as his other ones. With him, you'd actually never know.
Ethan looked concerned but caved in with a sigh and took the envelope. "I guess I have something to say." He mumbled, as he tore the envelope and pulled out the letter. "To Mr. and Mrs. Haynes, I, Ethan Littman on this night, in front of family and friends is formally asking the parents of Spencer Haynes for... his hand in marriage?"
Mom spat out her red wine all over her clean white table cloth and Dad nearly choked on his own breaths. Mrs. Littman eyes blew up to the size of the moon and it was hard to tell what Mr. Littman was thinking; although the way the sides of his lips quivered, it seemed as if he wasn't that angry with it. And that kind of scared me.
But no one was more shocked than I was. I stood up and took the letter out of Ethan's hands, scanning it over and over and over again. "Mathew." I grumbled under my breath. I knew I shouldn't have trusted that little dirty rat!
I couldn't speak and looked to Ethan for words but, that was futile since he had fainted sometime after I took the letter away from him and was sprawled open legged on the ground.
I turned back to the crowd that sat in front of me. Eyes wide and burning holes into various parts of my body. I felt naked and exposed and it wasn't even my fault. Not directly anyway. So, I did – or said – the only thing that came to mind. "Save the date?"