Chapter 3

The celebration dinner was set for the weekend.

At the city's finest hotel, the whole banquet hall was rented out for the occasion.

A welcome sign stood by the entrance, huge words printed across it.

"Congratulations to Amber Radley on her acceptance into Bedford University's Foundation Program."

My name was squeezed into the bottom corner, the font so small it was almost unreadable.

Relatives streamed in one after another. Mom and Dad stood at the door, beaming, greeting everyone who arrived.

"Amber really is something — that Foundation Program is no joke to get into."

"She had Grayson's help studying, that's the real reason."

Aunt Doris, my father's younger sister, came over and took Amber's hand, gushing over her without end. Then she turned, spotted me sitting off in the corner, and gave a perfunctory smile.

"Claire's done well too. You'll be looking out for your sister once you're both in Bedford."

I looked down at the plain glass of water in front of me and said nothing.

The banquet began. The emcee stood on stage, working the microphone with theatrical enthusiasm.

Amber was called up, wearing the designer dress Grayson had bought her.

"Thank you, Mom and Dad." Her voice cracked a little. "But the person I owe the most to is Grayson."

She turned, blushing, toward the head table where he sat.

"If it weren't for him cheering me on the whole way, I never would have made it through senior year."

Applause thundered through the room.

Every set of eyes in the hall drifted back and forth between the two of them, thick with implication.

Grayson sat at the head table, a faint smile tugging at his mouth.

I sat at the farthest table from the stage, among a scattering of relatives who barely visited us in ordinary times.

They ate snacks and traded gossip in lowered voices.

"It's strange, isn't it, how the Radleys are doing this. Their older girl got into a real program, no party at all, but they're throwing this whole thing for the younger one's prep track."

"You don't get it. The younger one's pretty, and she knows how to talk sweet. Who knows how well she'll marry one day."

"I bet that Whitfield boy already has his eye on her."

I speared a bite of coleslaw with my fork and ate it. Too salty.

A hotel server wheeled out a three-tiered cake.

Grayson walked up to the stage and took the knife. He held Amber's hand, and together they cut the first slice.

Then he carried that slice straight over to where I was sitting.

"Claire, Amber said this first piece has to go to you. She knows you've been upset the last few days."

He looked down at me.

"Eat it. Everyone's watching today. Don't humiliate Amber."

I looked at the cream-slathered slice on the plate in front of me.

Amber stood on the stage, watching me with wide, expectant eyes.

I didn't touch the fork.

"I'm not really into sweets."

Grayson's expression darkened instantly.

"You're determined to make a scene today, is that it?"

Just then, Amber came rushing over, holding up the hem of her dress.

"Claire, are you still upset that I took the tablet Grayson gave you?"

Her eyes went red, panicked, and she reached out to grab my arm.

"I really didn't mean to. I'll give it back to you, okay?"

She moved too fast and knocked her elbow hard against the edge of the table.

The plate of cake tipped over instantly, landing squarely on the front of my only white dress.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Claire!"

Amber shrieked, clapping a hand over her mouth and stumbling back.

Derek came charging over and shoved me aside, pulling Amber protectively into his arms.

"Amber was being nice, bringing you cake, and you shoved her?"

I staggered from the push, the small of my back knocking against the edge of a chair. I felt a dull, aching pain.

I steadied myself.

I looked at my furious brother in front of me, and at Grayson's openly disapproving face.

"I didn't push her."

"Still trying to argue your way out of it!"

Derek jabbed a finger at the stain spreading across my dress.

"So what if she ruined one outfit of yours? Amber didn't do it on purpose."

Mom rushed over too, glaring daggers at me.

"Today, of all days, and you have to go and cause trouble?"

I looked down at the ugly red stain soaking into the fabric, a stain that would never wash out.

A strange numbness settled over me.

An overwhelming, total numbness.

I didn't go to the restroom to clean up.

Instead, I picked up the canvas bag hanging off the back of my chair.

"I'm not causing trouble. I'm leaving."