Billionaires Don’t Fall For Awkward Girls by Emma Dalton
Chapter Four
Mom’s cooking dinner when I enter the house after dance practice. I’m so wiped that I drop down on a chair, inhaling the delicious aroma that is Mom’s food.
“Smells awesome in here,” I tell her.
Turning around, she smiles at me. It’s so contagious it could lift the saddest person’s spirits. “Hey, honey.” She brushes away some dark hair that sticks to her forehead. “Was dance practice okay?”
Sighing, I shrug. “Was okay, I guess. I’m trying to learn a move and Jasmine’s very patient with me, but I feel like I’m letting her down. Wasting her time. I don’t know.”
Mom pats my arm. “You’ll learn it soon enough. Just keep trying. And don’t give up.”
I wrap my arms around her, holding her tight. “Thanks, Mom.” There’s another reason why I’m hugging her—because of what those senior girls said during lunch. I haven’t forgotten a single word and I still hate myself for not sticking up for her. So the best I can do is hold her tight and show her how much she means to me.
Mom chuckles softly as she accepts the hug. “What’s all this for?”
“Because I love you, that’s all.”
She kisses my cheek. “I love you too.”
A pot sizzles on the stove and Mom rushes to tend to it. “Are you cleaning at the Reyes’s tonight?” I ask her.
“Yes. They’re hosting a party tomorrow and want the house spic and span. I’ll probably be late.”
I frown. I hate that she works so late, and so hard, but we’re not exactly swimming in dough, so…
“And Dad?”
“He’ll be home late too.”
It doesn’t surprise me—Dad comes home late every night—but maybe I was hoping I wouldn’t be alone in the house. Again.
As if she can read my mind, Mom turns around. “Will you be all right here by yourself? Maybe invite your friends over.”
Kara will be having dinner with her dad and Brayden’s family. Charlie’s swamped with homework and she doesn’t really like studying with anyone. And Ally? Pretty sure she has choir practice.
“I’m good,” I tell her with a wide smile. “I’ll probably finish my homework and practice dance or watch some TV.”
I sweep my backpack off the floor and go to my room. It’s not much—just a bed and small dresser, a closet, a desk, and a bookcase stuffed to the max with books. Even though it’s a tiny room, I love it. I don’t need anything more.
Plopping down at my desk, I empty the things from my backpack and a small hole catches my attention. Right. I was so bothered about my grade that I ripped the thing. Ugh. That D. I’m trying not to think about it.
It takes me two seconds to sew the hole. I’ve gotten pretty good at sewing because I always repair torn things. There’s no point in buying something new just because of a small hole.
After I’m done, I check out my work. Yep, good as new.
As I’m doing homework, Mom peeks into my room. “I’m off to the Reyes’s. Dinner’s in the oven.”
“Okay. Thanks, Mom.”
She smiles. “Of course, honey.” She scans the mess of papers on my desk—awkward girls are not good at being tidy and orderly—and frowns. Heading over to my desk, she takes the top page. “What’s this?”
I cringe at the huge D plastered on there for the world to see. “Um…a D…?” I bang my head on the table. “Psychology’s kicking my butt. I just don’t get it.”
She’s quiet.
I glance up and notice the guilt on her face. “What?” I ask.
She lowers herself on my bed, that guilty expression still evident on her face. “I worry that between dance and work you don’t have time to focus on school.”
“Mom, you know that’s not true. I’m balancing everything fine. It’s just this dumb class. I’m acing everything else.”
She’s quiet again as she thinks. “I hate that you have to work just so we could afford this tiny house. I hate that you can’t put all your time and effort into dance like other kids at the studio. I wish I could give you the world.” Her voice chokes up as she glances away.
I’m on my feet and sit down next to her, grabbing her hands. “What are you talking about? I have everything I need. I hate that you and Dad work so hard. I wish there was something I could do to help.”
She tucks some dark hair behind my ear. “Honey, it’s not your job to take care of us. You should be having fun with your friends. Living life to its fullest.”
“I am. I’m happy.” Most of the time anyway. “Please don’t worry about me. I have fun with my friends all the time. I’m dancing a few days a week. And my grades are good except for psychology. Don’t feel bad. Please.”
She nods slowly. “I look at all the kids at school and see how they have the latest smartphones or the fanciest clothes and—”
I squeeze her hand. “Mom, I’m fine. So I don’t have the latest phone and I don’t care about fancy clothes. I’m good. Really.”
She bends forward to kiss my forehead. “Okay. I’d better go or I’ll be late. Remember to eat dinner. And don’t worry about the dishes. I’ll do them when I come home.”
I give her a look. We go through this nearly every night. “When you come home, the house will be spotless and the dishes will be washed.”
She chuckles. “I’ll see you later.”
She shuts the door behind her, leaving me in silence. I should be used to this by now, but I’m not.
My eyes take in the posters of famous dancers on my wall. They will keep me company until she or Dad comes home.
A few hours later, the front door opens and I leave my room to watch Dad walk inside, placing his keys on the nearby hook.
“Dani!” he says with a smile as he hugs me with one arm. “You here all by yourself? Where’s Mom?”
“At the Reyes’s. They’re having a party or something tomorrow and she’s getting the house ready. How was work?”
He sits down at the table with a glass of ginger ale. “Was great.”
I take in his tired eyes and worn-out body. Dad doesn’t talk about work much, except when he overhears some juicy gossip, like when the boss and the secretary had this epic romance. He works as a janitor for an office building.
“You hungry? Mom left dinner in the oven. I already ate. Want me to get it for you?”
He waves his hand. “That’s all right, I’ll get it myself. Thanks, sweetie. Is school okay? Your friends?”
“Yep, everything is great.” Except for that D, but why ruin his mood? Both he and Mom want me to do well in school, even if I plan to be a Broadway dancer. They claim I need something to fall back on in case dancing doesn’t work out. Considering I have two left feet, I’d better try to keep my grades up. But I’m determined to make Broadway happen.
Dad rubs my arm. “I’m glad to hear that. I wish I could meet your friends. They sound like nice girls.”
“They’re the best! We’re like the Four Musketeers.” As he serves himself dinner, I tell him all about them. And he listens, despite how tired he is. I know the only thing he wants to do is fall into bed, but he and I barely have time to talk, so I know he appreciates this just as much as I do.
He laughs. “I’m glad you met those girls. I remember how lonely you were freshman year.”
Yeah, those were dark times. Dark times indeed. “Weren’t you supposed to get a promotion? I mean, you’ve been working there for years.”
He plays around with his mashed potatoes. “They offered it to someone else.”
“That’s ridiculous!”
“It’s life. I’ve accepted it. All I can do is work hard and provide for my family.”
I cross my arms over my chest with a huff. That’s stupid. No one works as hard as my dad. He deserved that promotion.
Dad pats my arm. “Don’t be upset, Dani. I’ll get the next one.” He starts collecting his dishes.
“I’ll clean up,” I tell him.
“Are you sure?”
“Yep.”
He gives me another one-arm hug, wishes me good night, then disappears into the bathroom to take a shower. I spend the rest of the evening cleaning up until Mom gets home, so tired she can hardly stand straight. But she’s got a wide smile on her face, positive as usual.
I try to be as happy as my parents, but how can I when they overwork themselves like this?