Click...click...clank was all that was heard from knives and forks hitting the plates during Emma's family dinner that evening. She kept her head down while she chewed on the dry chicken her mother had cooked.
"So, how was your Christmas, dear? I was expecting to hear a call from you," her mother asked, looking over at her.
Emma wasn't really surprised her mother expected to hear from her, but the great thing about phones was they worked two ways.
They could have easily called her as well, but of course, they didn't. Emma let out a sigh, wiping her mouth with her napkin. "Um, how and why exactly would I have done that? You two could have also called me." Her mother raised an eyebrow in her daughter's direction.
Her father sat at the head of the table, watching their conversation slowly unfold. "We have a house phone, Emma; don't be smart with me." Emma ground her teeth together so she wouldn't snap at her mother. It was too late in the day for an argument.
"Sorry, Mother... my Christmas was, well, I watched a few Christmas movies on television. Nothing different or exciting." Her mother nodded and continued to eat, satisfied with Emma's answer. After all, hearing that everything was exactly how she left it was probably what her mother wanted to hear more than anything.
"Well, I hope you practiced your violin and didn't slack off too much." Emma glared slightly at her before looking back at her plate, setting her napkin down. She pushed a brussel sprout around her plate.
"Of course not, Mother. I wouldn't have dreamed of slacking off for a moment. I mean, after all, how will I get into Harvard with that attitude?" Her voice was full of sarcasm, but neither of her parents picked up on it.
Her father pointed his fork in her direction with a smile. "That's the spirit, Emma." She rolled her eyes, picking up her cup of water, taking a sip.
"What was all that about when we got home, by the way?" he asked curiously, while her mother nodded, also wanting to know the meaning of her daughter's odd behavior.
Emma cleared her throat, setting her cup back down. "Umm, I don't know. I guess I've been slightly paranoid since that letter was left for me before Christmas."
Her mother cut her chicken, shaking her head. "We were told it was nothing, Emma. Don't dwell on it, honey; there's nothing to worry about." Of course, her mother would try to reassure her worried mind, but in the pit of Emma's stomach, she could just tell something wasn't right. She'd rather just keep her guard up in the meantime.
"But, Mother, this didn't just seem like a prank to me..." Emma started before she was cut off by her father.
"Emma, dear, if the police said it was nothing, it's nothing. You're getting yourself worked up over nothing." She let out a sigh. They obviously wouldn't listen to a word she was trying to say.
Her mother stood with her plate, apparently done with her food. "I know one thing: you better not act this way at your party tomorrow. A lot of mine and your father's business colleagues will be in attendance." She walked over to the sink to wash her plate.
Well, they never really celebrated Emma's birthday, so even though a bunch of her parents' friends would be there, Emma was just happy to be having a party. She would also be having her friends at the party, so that would make the event more tolerable. She hadn't mentioned anything to her parents about other people being invited to her party, but now was better than never.
"I'll be on my best behavior. After all, I also invited a few of my friends," she said, bracing herself for the worst from her parents.
Her father stood with his plate, walking over to the sink. "We weren't aware you had any, dear," he said, making her feel like she was some kind of friendless loser. Of course, they wouldn't have known any; they weren't the type of parents that want their kid to have friends. They would rather her focus on her studies and extracurriculars. He handed the plate to her mother.
"I have friends, Father, just some you guys don't know. I think you'll like them," he hummed, walking back to the table.
Her mother cleaned the plate and looked back at her, brow raised. "We didn't allow you to bring anyone." Emma stood with her plate, looking at her mother drying the plates, putting them up. Emma handed her mother her plate while her father started to put away the leftovers on the table.
"I assumed I could, it being my birthday party after all," Emma said. Her mother took Emma's plate, huffed, and began drying it in her hands with the towel.
"Jason and his mother will still be coming." Emma's eyes widened; she didn't want to see Jason again after accusing him of sending her that creepy letter. Emma crossed her arms. Her mother could instantly read her daughter's reaction.
"They're still family friends, Emma, whether you like that or not. They will be at that party. And you'll be on your best behavior, do you understand?" Her mother said with her hands on her hips, making Emma press her lips together.
Her parents were totally okay with Jason coming tomorrow but would literally flip out if Blake showed up.
It was enough to make her want to scream. Was it too much to want to spend time with her guy friend, a warm bed, and some hot cocoa? It sounded great to her, but her parents didn't seem down for that idea. Since she and Blake had sex, he was like a whole different guy: super cuddly and cute, which she didn't complain about at all. She wanted to enjoy it while she could.
Her mother raised her eyebrow, apparently still waiting for her response. She snapped herself out of the thought of Blake naked in her bed to reply a soft, "Yes, Mother," before walking back to her bedroom, wanting a long, hot shower suddenly for two reasons: one to get Blake out of her head, and two to stop worrying about the party to come tomorrow.
YOU ARE READING
It Started With Hello
Romance***** Emma Pear knew she wasn't the most popular girl in high school. Her nose was usually buried in a textbook, and her grades were as spotless as her reputation for always following the rules. "Nerd" was a label she'd long since embraced. Her pare...
