Best Behavior Read online

  Meredith always waves it off, as if she couldn’t care less, but Dawn knows she follows Lily on Twitter. What must she think when she sees Lily, who’s only slightly older than her own daughter, posed at her ex-husband’s side? If it were Dawn, she’d totally flip. She gets that her mom and Joel are meant for each other (if you ask her, her mom should have married Joel in the first place), but that can’t make it any easier to watch her dad parading about town with an attractive younger woman on his arm.

  And now here he is, front and center. She watches him search the room, maybe looking for her or Cody, or, quite possibly, the paparazzi. Lily, strangely, is nowhere to be seen.

  “Lookee who’s here.” Cody nudges her. “Glad he could take time out of his busy schedule for us.”

  Cody, once their dad’s eternal defender, has been on a kick lately to criticize him at every turn. But Dawn would like to give their father credit where credit is due. “I know. I already saw him.” She pushes a cluster of bracelets up on her forearm, sending them jingling against one another. “I’m glad he’s here.”

  “Yeah, right,” snaps Cody and turns back to his posse of friends.

  “Your brother doesn’t sound too impressed,” says Shauna, who, Dawn knows, harbors an unhealthy crush on Cody, even though her brother has (or is it had now?) a serious girlfriend.

  “Not my problem.” Dawn waves at her dad, her bracelets clinking, but he doesn’t see her. Without Lily by his side, he looks a little lost, as if he’s wandered into a parking lot at IKEA and can’t recall where he left his car. She pulls her hand back and starts in on her thumbnail again, gnawing at it like tiny fire ants. “Uh-oh,” she murmurs.

  “What?” asks Shauna.

  “My dad. He’s going over to my mom’s table.”

  “So? What’s the big deal? Where else would he sit?”

  Dawn rolls her eyes. “Um, they’re divorced, Shauna. You know that.” But her friend shrugs as if she still can’t fathom why her mom and dad sitting together could spell a disaster of epic proportions. Dawn avoids explaining the weird dynamics of her family, such as that her mom will probably be all right, so long as Lily, wherever she is, keeps her distance. But her nana, who still harbors a grudge, might very well try to throw her dad out of the party.

  Dawn sighs. Shauna does have a point, though. It’s not as if this is a company party, where her father can glad-hand everyone—eventually he’ll need to sit somewhere. And she concedes that it makes the most sense that he sits with the entire family. If only everyone will be on their best behavior.

  “Sorry, Shauna, but I’ve gotta go.” Dawn makes a beeline for her mom’s table, not bothering to ask Cody if he’s coming. As far as she’s concerned, her brother has declared his allegiances for the night, which rest squarely on himself. He’ll be of little help when it comes to nursing the family flame of togetherness this evening. Plus, ever since she showed him the photo, he’s acting weird, like more of a cocky jerk than usual. Dawn needs to get away from him and his friends, who are all jacked up on Red Bull and probably something else. For days, Cody and his football pals have been planning a senior prank for graduation (a Bolton tradition). Dawn could give a sweet whatever—she has better things to do with her time than get in trouble for a stupid prank, but each time she points this out to her brother, he accuses her of being a killjoy.

  At the table, she nearly collides with her dad, who clicks his tongue and pulls her into a hug. “Look at you, Squiget!” he exclaims, invoking her childhood nickname, a mix of squiggly and fidget. “You’re stunning.” An unmistakable whiff of cologne rides over her as her face presses into his shirt collar.

  “Thanks, Daddy,” she says, when he releases her. “You didn’t see me but I was waving to you. I’m so glad you could come.” It’s her feeble attempt at making him feel welcome, and he grins. He’s dressed in a lavender golf shirt and khaki pants, and his dark hair has gone wavy in the heat, like it used to do when they’d travel to Florida for spring break. Two thin gold chains loop around his tanned neck. From one dangles the initials R and L, a wedding gift from Lily. It’s so tacky, Dawn thinks, it almost counts as cool. Roger turns to greet her mom.

  “Roger, what a nice surprise.” Meredith stands and leans in for cheek kisses, a weird thing her parents do whenever they see each other now. It’s as if they’ve agreed that, in lieu of physical contact, they will exchange pretend kisses for civility’s sake. Her mom’s acting prowess, however, could persuade even Dawn that she’s truly pleased to have Roger here tonight. Her dad offers some explanation about sneaking out of work early and sends a nod in Carol’s direction, who acknowledges him with a cool nod of her own.

  An awkward moment ensues when her father casts around for a seat, and as he’s about to lower himself into a chair, Meredith stops him. “Oh, no, sorry. That won’t work. Joel’s sitting there. He just stepped outside for a minute.” A confused, almost pained, expression falls over her father’s face.

  “Dawn, honey, where are you sitting?”

  Dawn doesn’t have the heart to say aloud that she’d prefer to sit with her friends rather than her own family and so she hasn’t joined this particular table yet herself.

  “I don’t know.” She giggles as if it’s funny that they all suddenly find themselves in this predicament, an imaginary game of musical chairs.

  “Well, we’ll have to find some seats then, won’t we?” He shoots her his customary I-can-fix-this wink and grabs a few empty chairs from an adjacent table, lugging them back to the table. Dawn wedges herself into a vacant seat between her mom and dad, and her mom reaches over to pat her knee, as if to say, Don’t worry. The nuclear bomb that you think is about to go off in our family at any moment? Well, it’s never going to see the light of day because I’ve got the detonator hidden in my purse.

  Not that the thought exactly comforts Dawn because her mom is probably the least emotionally stable person here tonight. She’s counting on her stepdad to steady Meredith, and at the thought, she searches in vain for Joel as Dean Tillman steps up to the podium to begin his opening remarks. Dawn’s loyalties are madly ping-ponging back and forth between her parents. Her poor dad. Typically, Roger owns every room he walks into, but to see him now, perched uncomfortably in his folding chair, she’d think he was at the wrong party. And her poor mom! Meredith has been completely and unfairly ambushed, as if her ex-husband has just photobombed her own wedding. Not that Meredith and Roger can’t be cordial, but now her mom will have to present a cheery face the entire night when she probably assumed she and Joel could enjoy some alone time with the kids.

  Well, it’s only a hiccup, thinks Dawn. And, unlike her brother, she’s truly pleased that her dad has made the effort. Maybe Lily’s absence will help ease the sting of the surprise, make the night somehow bearable, even pleasant. Which leads Dawn to wonder where, precisely, is Lily tonight? Sick? At home in protest? No one has dared to ask. Are Lily and her dad fighting? The thought sends a small smile skating across Dawn’s lips.

  When Joel finally returns to the table, he slides into his chair, mouths Sorry to Meredith, and reaches over to shake Roger’s hand, a small token for which Dawn is grateful. Her stepdad has always been nothing but gracious toward Roger, and it seems this will remain true for graduation weekend. Meanwhile, her dad, apparently weary of Tillman’s remarks, leans over to ask her about finals and her latest report card. “How did you do, Squiget?”

  “Straight As. One A minus.”

  “Atta girl.” Just as he used to do when she was little, he swings an arm around her shoulder and squeezes tight. Her chest constricts with this long-ago, familiar gesture of her father’s affection, like a secret handshake. She’d almost forgotten.

  What Dawn has told no one is that she secretly hopes her name will be announced at tonight’s awards ceremony. There are a host of awards being handed out, some with an appealing sack of money tied to them, including Athlete
of the Year, the School Spirit Award, and a Senior Scholar Award. Last year she would have laughed if anyone asked if she were eligible for such a prize, but this year Dawn’s grades have been exceptional. And, by a stroke of luck, the award takes into account only grades for senior year. Everyone else she knows, her brother included, has let their grades free-fall during this last semester.

  Everyone except Dawn.

  For once, it seems possible that she might be the twin who gets recognized instead of her superstar brother. It would be so gratifying, especially after last year’s fiasco with the Admin Board. If she wins this prize, it will be a complete and total vindication. A middle finger to the administration for putting her through that private hell. She’s so nervous that she’s gnawing on her cuticle again, but she doesn’t even notice till her mom playfully pulls her hand away, just as she used to do when Dawn was younger.

  Next thing she knows, Cody is scooting a chair over to their table and plops down beside Joel. Dawn watches him settle in for what will likely be one more glorious moment in the storied life of Cody Landau. Who else other than her brother, star running back of the football team, could possibly clinch the Athlete of the Year award? He squirms out of his blazer, flings it over the back of his chair, and proceeds to drain an entire glass of ice water. Turning back to face the podium, he crosses his arms and awaits the gods to crown him with his newest laurel.

  They are six awards in when Mr. Tillman announces that the next prize will go to Athlete of the Year. He teases the audience, a bandmaster leading his charges, and offers up a vague hint at the winner. Dawn watches Cody bend forward in his seat, bouncing on the balls of his feet, ready to sprint to the podium. Already beaming, her dad winks at her mom, and Cody’s pals shout, “Cody! Cody!”

  “And the recipient is—” Mr. Tillman pauses for effect. “Garett Henley!” There’s a millisecond of hushed, stunned silence followed by thunderous applause for the Bullfrogs’ quarterback. “Garett? Where are you, son?”

  Garett, along with his entire family, rises to his feet and high-fives his brothers before trotting up to the front. Dawn almost guffaws out loud. A swoosh of self-satisfaction overtakes her. She can’t help it because, well, everything always comes so easily for her brother. Being his twin can be demoralizing sometimes, so seldom does her brother fail. Her dad leans over to whisper something into his ear, but Cody just shrugs. By the time Garett reaches the podium, the entire tent is up on its feet, applauding. “Garett, Garett,” they chant, and her brother good-naturedly plays along, fist-pumping the air.

  Well-done, Garett, thinks Dawn. Her relief that, for once, her brother has been skipped in the congratulatory lineup mixes with incredulity and for a brief moment, she feels selfish, guilty. Has her hoping for her own award in some oddly karmic way denied Cody his? She knows it’s crazy, but guilt stirs in her nonetheless.

  After Garett collects his trophy, Mr. Tillman continues down the list of award recipients. Dawn counts three more until Scholar of the Year. It’s such a silly, trumped-up title that it’s almost embarrassing. Why couldn’t they call it something less pretentious, maybe Best Student of the Year? Scholar sounds far-fetched, something out of Downton Abbey. She glances at her mom, then her dad, and tries to crystallize the moment in her head—the moment before winning her first-ever academic prize in college. Meanwhile, her dad, bored now that Cody’s opportunity has vanished, grabs a few candy almonds from a bowl and tosses them into his mouth.

  “And it gives me great pleasure,” continues Tillman, “to present the Academic Scholar of the Year Award to someone who has devoted herself to her studies while others, shall we say, comfortably slid into the senior slide.” A collective murmur of laughter ripples through the tent.

  “Wait for it,” Dawn whispers to her mom, unable to contain her excitement any longer. Her mother’s eyebrows shoot up, surprised, as if to say, You?

  Play it cool, Dawn coaches herself. Like Garett. She checks her dress, making certain the back isn’t tucked into her underwear or anything, and flips her hair over her shoulder.

  “And the winner is...” Mr. Tillman clears his throat. She straightens in her seat. “Rose McIntosh!”

  It’s as if she’s been sucker punched, and Dawn actually leans over, clutching her stomach.

  “Honey, are you okay? Did you think you were going to win?”

  Dawn takes a moment to collect herself before straightening in her seat. She shrugs, tears stinging her eyes. It’s like a TV game show, where she was confident that she’d selected the winning door only to discover that it had an enormous “Bankrupt!” sign waiting behind it. She can almost hear the TV audience gasp, Oh, no! at her bad luck.

  “Of course not,” she says now, but it’s harder to lie to her mom than anyone else in the world, especially when she’s staring at Dawn with those huge brown eyes of concern. “Well, maybe. Just a little bit. I worked really hard this year, you know?”

  “Oh, honey. I’m sorry. Who knows how they decide these things?” Meredith leans in and says a bit more softly, “Besides, it feels like the end-of-year awards mostly go to the kids who haven’t been recognized before.”

  Like me! thinks Dawn but doesn’t say it.

  “I mean, look at your brother. If he didn’t get Athlete of the Year...” Her mother’s voice trails off, as if confirming everyone’s thoughts that the process must be rigged. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter because we’re so proud of you.”

  Dawn manages a feeble smile.

  “Remember when we used to give you a dollar for every A you earned?”

  “Yeah,” Dawn says. “It was the only way I ever made any money.”

  Meredith laughs. “Well, consider those As on your last report card to be money in the bank.”

  Dawn rolls her eyes, embarrassed. “It’s not like I need you to pay me for my grades anymore, Mom. I can handle disappointment. Really.”

  She reaches over to squeeze her hand. “I just want you to understand how proud we are of you.”

  “I know, Mom.” When a waiter sets down tiny plates of cheesecake, Dawn grabs one and stabs at her dessert. Her mother means well, of course, but a part of her can’t wait to be done with college and this whole weekend. Can’t wait to put Bolton in her rearview mirror and arrive in Chicago, where people will appreciate her for who she really is, for what she’s really worth. When she will no longer have to live in anyone else’s shadow. Even that of her beloved brother, whom some days she adores and loathes in equal measure.

  SEVEN

  “Win some, lose some, huh, buddy?” Roger nudges Cody. Her ex-husband doesn’t seem to notice that their daughter has fled to be with her friends, that she might have been expecting a prize, as well. To be honest, the thought never occurred to Meredith, either, which makes her feel a tad guilty and ashamed. Why didn’t she assume Dawn might win something in recognition for all her hard work? What does it say about her as a mother that her thoughts automatically gravitate toward her son whenever the matter of achievement arises? Or that she so proudly told that Penelope woman that she was Cody’s mom, not even mentioning Dawn once?

  Probably because Cody has always been her easy child, the one who lends himself to bragging rights. Rarely does she have to worry about him, except for those times when he’s out on the football field and she recites fervent prayers to keep him safe. But Dawn has kept her up plenty of nights, the daughter who ingratiated herself with the mean girls in high school only to be kicked swiftly to the curb by those same girls. The daughter who spearheaded the move up to Boston for the twins’ junior year in high school and then, to be fair, back to New Haven for their senior year. Dawn’s emotions screwball all over the place, and though Meredith doesn’t put much stock in astrology, sometimes it does seem as if her daughter co-opted all of the trademark sensitivity genes of a Cancer, sparing none for her brother.

  Cody has always been athletic, popular, a straight
-A student, the kind of son other parents gush about as if he were their own. Steady and stable, he reminds Meredith a little of herself when she was a kid. But her daughter can fly into a rage over nothing at all and the next minute burst into tears, which has the disconcerting effect of Meredith’s never quite knowing what Dawn is thinking. Come to think of it, her mercurial mood swings are not so unlike her father’s. Roger used to easily fly off the handle at the smallest inconvenience—a broken picture frame, a watermark stain left behind by a glass on the table, call-waiting. Things beyond his control. It wasn’t until they’d divorced that Meredith realized how much time she’d spent tiptoeing around, careful not to upset him.

  Now she wonders if Dawn’s past, peppered with all that untold drama, somehow factored into Meredith’s own reaction to the cheating accusation last year, when she found herself doubting her daughter’s honesty. Meredith had been so quick to judge! She’d assumed that if Dawn had been accused of cheating, then she was probably guilty as charged.

  “Honestly, Dawn, how could you be so stupid?” she’d shouted into the phone when the call came in the middle of the night, jolting her from a deep sleep.

  “I didn’t do it, Mom! I told you! It’s all a misunderstanding—the Board got it wrong! Beth and I studied together, but it’s not like we cheated on the exam. Why don’t you believe me?”

  “I’d like to believe you, but right now I’m too angry to even think straight. Joel and I will be up there this weekend, and we’ll figure this thing out.” In retrospect, Meredith’s handling of the situation had been downright deplorable. Rather than reassuring her daughter that everything would be okay and that she trusted her, she’d done the opposite, basically calling her a liar.