• dynasty • | gnr | kiss | bon jovi |

•11•

I hold my breath as daddy takes a seat at the dinner table. My hands don't dare to touch the utensils in front of me, I don't even take a sip from my wine glass. Nothing is to be consumed until he has been seated.

Jon also respects this, as do his parents, as we gather for our usual Sunday evening dinner. It's bloody prime rib, lamb shanks, crab cakes and other delectables, but somehow it doesn't interest me. I find myself craving the simple saltiness of matzah balls, swimming in chicken broth.

My mother and Jon's begin chattering away, probably about their recent purchases from France. Jon looks at me like he might wanna speak, but I don't care.

"Ellie's having everyone over after dinner. If you want we can head over?"

I shrug, cutting off the smallest piece of prime rib I possibly can. "If you want to, we can. I don't care."

He sighs. "You haven't cared about anything lately. We need to talk after we finish eating."

I groan inwardly. "Okay."

I look up at my dad again and my stomach clenches. He glances at me with obvious disinterest and doesn't even bother with a 'hello', which only makes me more inclined to speak to him. Stan told me in a fit of irritation once that I was like an abused puppy, always coming back for more punishment. He's right.

"I've earned a perfect report card thus far in the semester, daddy," I tell him proudly, cutting more pieces of steak but never really putting them into my mouth.

"As it should be," he grunts and says nothing more.

I frown slightly and my heart pangs with disappointment. "And the tutoring I've been doing is going to look great on my resume."

"But didn't you quit cheerleading? You've created a gap, which makes anything else you do utterly pointless."

I chuckle to hide my pain. "Well, I doubt Harvard values a ditzy girl in a uniform over academics, it shouldn't be a problem. Everything else is going really well, even with the assimilation of the new students. They really aren't bad, despite what you've heard, I think it makes the school just a little bit more like the real world. I've really learned to-"

"Calliope," he snaps, narrowing his eyes at me. "If you don't mind, I've had an extremely long day, and your incessant chatter is doing nothing but worsen my headache."

The table quiets. Mother refuses to meet my eyes, but I hardly notice given the fact that mine are glued to my plate. I can hardly breathe, my throat seems to close like a trapdoor at his speech.

"Well... alright," I swallow. I gently place my fork and knife where they belong and excuse myself from the table.

Once I reach my bedroom I head straight for the closet, knowing that the only way to clear my head will be to bury myself in a record, but before I can get far I hear Jon enter the room behind me and close the doors.

I stop at the bed with my back to him, letting out a sigh of frustration. He comes up right behind me and his hands run down my arms, securing around my waist. His head rests against my shoulder, his light brown hair mixes with mine.

"That wasn't cool, sweetheart. I know that couldn't have felt good."

"I'm used to it. He doesn't appreciate a thing I do, I just think he doesn't care."

He scoffs and shakes his head. "I'm sure that's not true. You're so perfect, how could he not?"

I ignore the obvious attempt at a compliment. "You wouldn't understand, Jonny. Your parents treat you like you're the second coming of Gandhi... they adore you."