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“Damn, dude. Your mom is harsh,” she says. “It’s New Year’s. Everyone parties.”
At least she doesn’t say my mom is awesome, like Lindsey does just because Mom forced me to endure the most embarrassing day of my life, going to get on birth control when I wasn’t even thinking about needing it. I guess now that I am, I’ll have to get it back from Lindsey. The thought of telling Lindsey is awful—I can already see the disapproval in her eyes when I say I don’t care if I love Todd or if my first time is perfect or even special. I bet she’d tell Chase too.
The thought is surprisingly satisfying instead of mortifying. He wouldn’t be able to tease me about it and make all his suggestive comments anymore, and no one would think I was the virginal freak.
“Maybe they’ll let you hang out since you’re with me, and I can keep an eye on you,” Meghan says. “I mean, I’m your cousin. How much trouble can I get you into?”
four
Now Playing:
“Corpus Christi Carol”—Jeff Buckley
“Sky, honey, will you go give your uncles a fifteen-minute warning on dinner?” Mom asks. “They’re working, so they like a heads up so they can find a good stopping place.”
“In the van?” I ask, straightening from where I’m curled on the couch with my phone, trying not to die of jealousy as I pour over the pictures of Lindsey and all our friends in a group, grinning from behind their ski goggles; posing together with their skis; crammed together on the gondola; taking off down the slopes; eating under twinkle lights in the lodge dining room; posing in their swim suits and snow boots as they get ready to head through the snow to the outdoor hot tub.
“No, they’re upstairs in the solarium,” Mom says before heading back into the kitchen where she and Uncle Carl are making dinner.
I consider passing the job off to Lily, but she’s busy setting the utensils next to the plates on the dining room table, so I head upstairs, trying to forget the pictures, especially the last one I saw—Lindsey sitting in Chase’s lap on a bearskin rug in front of a roaring fireplace, his arms around her and his chin resting on the top of her head because she’s tiny enough to fit under his chin. They look like the perfect Barbie and Ken, a couple that was made for each other and will be together until eternity.
But whatever. I have Todd.
I climb the last flight of stairs to the solarium on the top floor, in the attic space. The entire roof is made of skylights, and huge windows look out over the lake and the trees on three sides. A big desk is set up with a Mac, which Frederick is using while Seamus is at a laptop beside him.
“What’s up, Skyster?” Frederick asks cheerfully, leaning back and stretching his thick arms over his head. Looking at him, you’d never know he was Dad’s brother, but at least I’m not the only freakishly tall person in the family.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” I say.
“Great,” he says, gesturing to the screen. “Just editing some clips for the nextBig Gay Adventurepost.”
“We’re going to try out Two Scoops of Love while we’re in town,” Seamus says, scrolling through the information about the local ice cream parlour on his screen. “Have you been?”
“No, but it’s popular,” I say with a shrug. Lindsey’s always watching her calories, so ice cream is not part of her diet, and the rest of us pretty much do what she does.
I watch over Frederick’s shoulder for a minute as he edits a video clip of himself changing a tire on the side of the road in the dessert and talking about camping in the Grand Canyon. Uncle Fred is a low-key visionary genius who basically branded himself before the term ‘influencer’ even existed and spent his entire adult life making money off just being himself and doing whatever catches his interest. He’s currently traveling around making vlogs about van life while Seamus writes a foodie blog about the places they eat on their travels. Basically, besides the tall gene, you’d never know I was in any way related to him either.
I turn away after a minute, about to head back down when my eyes fall on an old bookshelf that’s been here all my life. My grandparents’ old photo albums are crammed onto it inno particular order, but the entire bottom shelf is packed with skinny spines with dates on them.
I swallow hard and glance guiltily at my uncle, like he can hear Preston Darling’s words echoing in my head. Seeing him in Lindsey’s pictures must have brought back his taunts about my family.
“Can I look at these?” I ask, pointing to the shelf.
“Of course,” Frederick says, glancing over his shoulder. “Just don’t laugh at my baby face. There’s a reason I keep it covered.” He winks and smooths his beard before going back to editing his clips.
“Baby face?” Seamus asks. “I might want to see these.”
I pull out a half dozen yearbooks from the nineties and settle into a wicker loveseat to flip through. I have to calculate how old Dad is in my head and what year that means he graduated, since I don’t want to come out and ask my uncle. He’s definitely safer than Aunt Diana, but I don’t want it getting back to Mom that I’m digging around for info about Dad. She’ll want to talk about it.
I flip past pages of signatures and cheesy comments written in the front and then scan through the rows of black and white portraits of his class, but I can’t find him. I find Diana and Frederick, but no sign of Dad. Diana’s a senior in this one, and she’s a year behind Dad, so I must have the wrong year. I pick up the one from the year before, thinking he must have graduated when he was young for his grade. But there’s no picture of him there, either.
I know he was a bit of a rebel, but surely he didn’t skip picture day during his senior year. My grandparents were all about pictures, if the entire shelf of photo albums is any indication. I flip through the candid shots and club photos, scanning the names in hopes of finding one of him there.
“You do have a baby face,” I say to Uncle Frederick after a while.
“Let me see,” Seamus says.
“No way,” Frederick says, and they start laughing and playfully trying to snag the yearbooks from each other.
