“Please.” I put my hands together in prayer pose. “I’ll do anything.”
He stares at me long and hard. “Like come to class on time every day from here on out?” One of his bushy eyebrows arches.
My shoulders sag. “It’s not like I’m deliberately late.”
He cocks his other eyebrow.
“Deal. I won’t be late again.”
“Doubtful.” He swivels his head and looks out the window. “Let me talk to Dean Witner and I’ll let you know. No promises.”
I jump from my chair. “Thank you so much!”
He holds up his hand. “Don’t get so excited until you know whether I can make this happen. If it was anyone else—”
“You’d do the same thing,” I finish for him, because that’s just who Professor Locklear is.
“Probably. Now get out of here while I figure out the best angle to try to convince the dean and where on earth we’ll find another child for you to help.”
I do a little dance but refrain from hugging him even though I want to. “Thank you again.”
He nods and shoos me out the door.
I step outside, shutting his door, and release a breath. If I find a child for the program, how can they keep me from graduating? Looks like I’ll be talking to Lucy Greene. She’s an elementary school teacher. Surely, she must know a child who would benefit from speech therapy.
On Sunday afternoon, everyone is over at Fisher’s and my place, watching last night’s MMA fight. We would’ve watched last night, but we were all working. I dump a bag of chips in a bowl and place it on the coffee table, then sit next to my youngest brother, Rylan.
“My baby thanks you for the nourishment.” Nikki snags a chip and bites into it.
“Nothing but the best for my niece or nephew.” I wink at her and grab the remote since the fight just ended.
“Guys, I’ve got things to do at the inn. I need to get outta here.” Mandi lingers behind the chair where Nikki is sitting on Logan’s lap.
Those two are all over each other all the damn time. And now they’re whispering to one another. This is how I know I need to get laid, when I find myself jealous of my pregnant sister going home and getting some from her husband.
“Not yet,” Nikki says. “Mom said she’s coming by with a big announcement.”
I would’ve bet money Logan wanted to get Nikki home already. Those two sneak off every chance they get.
“If she’s pregnant, I’m moving in with one of you.” Rylan picks up the controller for my gaming system and I grab my own. So does Fisher.
“She can’t be pregnant,” I say, glancing at my little brother. I mean, surely she’s too old now, right?
“Those two are worse than you and Logan,” Xavier says to Nikki. “Like right now.”
“Hey, seating is limited. We’re doing you all a favor by sharing,” Logan says, gripping her hip tighter.
“They’ll be saying they have to go soon,” Mandi says, and Nikki sticks out her tongue at her.
The door opens and my mom and Hank come inside holding flags and signs that say, “Vote Greene.” We all stare as they walk around the room and pass them out. What the hell is going on?
Then my mom pulls out a bag of pins. “Guess what?”
“Dad’s running for mayor?” Adam says.
I don’t think he’s right because Hank is way too busy with his handyman business. Either my mom is recruiting one of us, which wouldn’t surprise me, or she’s running herself. Sam Klein, Sunrise Bay’s mayor, just announced he’s retiring after his term is done.
Hank shakes his head and puts up his hands. “Not me.”
I knew it.
“Marla is!” Hank raises his hand and she high fives him as though they’re a wrestling tag team.
Everyone looks too stunned to say anything.
My mom beams. “That’s right. I’ve decided to run for mayor.”
“Why?” Mandi stares at her flag with distaste. “Don’t you have enough to do?”
“You don’t look happy.” Mom’s smile fades as she looks around the room. “None of you do.”
Hank shifts behind Mom and glares at us over her head.
We all force smiles.
“Awesome,” I say, splashing on a wide grin. “We’ll hang a sign in the brewery.”
“I can put one up at Fringe,” Posey pipes up. “What else do you need help with? I could be your campaign manager. Or you could run your office out of Fringe.”
“Suck-up,” Fisher coughs out.
Posey is always Mom’s biggest cheerleader. The two of them used to go to craft fairs and farmers’ markets, where Mom sold her salad dressings. Posey is probably the best salesperson out of all of us, which I’m sure she got from my dad’s side. Everyone knows he can sell anything to anyone.
“You’ll all play a part in getting your mom elected, so put your thinking caps on,” Hank says with authority.
“As though my life wasn’t embarrassing enough.” Rylan groans and sinks into the couch.
I ruffle his hair. “Hey, maybe this will earn you points with the girls.”
Of course it won’t. It’s hard enough being a Greene in this town, let alone your mom being the mayor.
Someone knocks on the front door, and we all look at one another for a beat, wondering who it could be. Most of us are here, and those who aren’t here wouldn’t bother to knock. Fisher groans and puts down the controller, rising from the couch to open the door. A man dressed in a suit and holding a briefcase stands there.
“Did someone die?” Rylan asks Mom.
She and Hank walk toward the door.
“I’m looking for Jed Greene,” the man says.
Mom, Hank, and Fisher all turn and glare at me. I continue playing Mario Kart because I’m on the last lap and about to win.
“Jed,” Mom says with a tone of disapproval, since I’m not Johnny on the spot to find out what this guy wants. It’s Sunday afternoon—he’s probably selling something. “This man is here to see you.”
I look up and drop the controller, annoyed to end the game just to hear some guy give me a crappy sales pitch for new windows or some shit.
Lucy, Chevelle, and Cam come into the room from the kitchen, undoubtedly curious to see who rang the doorbell.
“I’m Jed,” I say, sticking my hands into the pockets of my jeans.
“Would you like to talk outside?” the man asks, gesturing to the door.
I glance back at my family and laugh. “Nah, I’ve got nothing to hide.”
Let’s be honest, even if I did step outside, every other Greene would have their ears pressed to the door anyway. We don’t really respect family members’ secrets around here.
“We mailed you a letter and tried to call the number we had listed for you, but since this is a time-sensitive matter, I agreed to come out here personally. I was a friend of my client.”
I can’t piece together what he could be talking about, but the client bit makes me a little wary. My forehead creases and I cross my arms, widening my stance. “Time-sensitive?”
“You didn’t open your mail?” Mom scolds from behind me.