Page 51 of The Bad Boyfriend Curse
My hand fists.Racism. This lady is being racist to our faces. Just like that old man was to Mom at the club. Have people been saying stuff like this to Mom since she moved to Cherrybridge? It occurs to me that to some people it doesn’t matter if Mom dresses like a socialite or I dress like an emo skater girl. All they’ll see is our brown skin.
“Ashley, stop,” Noah warns. “Meera’s afriend. Her stepfather is Jason LeClair.”
The emphasis he puts on the word “friend” doesn’t feel good, but Ashley’s eyes widen. The conflict on her face is almost laughable. Like, she doesn’t know if she can still be nasty, considering that my family owns this whole company,but she also seems to hate me even more. “Does your father know you’re holding hands with aLeClair?”
“Hey, Ashley,” someone says, coming toward us. It’s Mike, Noah’s dad. “I see you met Meera. She’sgreat, isn’t she?”
Ashley scowls at Mike. Like she’s mad at him for not being on her side. “Do you know who her stepfather is?” Ashley asks Mike.
“Of course. And we’re not blaming the girl for who her mother chose to marry. Meera’s been a good friend to Noah this summer. They met in community service.”
“Mike, I’m surprised you of all people would allow this. I know whyhemarried that woman—nothing but virtue signaling. But why would you allow your son to do that?”
“I don’t need my father’s permission to date who I want,” Noah says, taking my hand back.
No one says anything for a moment. I squeeze Noah’s hand as a thank-you for standing up for me, and he squeezes mine back.
“Ashley,leave Noah and Meera alone,” Mike says, “They’re kids. Let them make their own mistakes.”
I blink. Mike thinks we’re making a mistake?
Ashley scowls at Noah. “Okay, but don’t come running to me when this blows up, like your father did when your mom left,” she says. “And, Mike, don’t forget what side you’re on.” Ashley walks away.
“Dad,” Noah says, “why do you put up with that crap? Ashley went too far.”
“What do you mean, why do I put up with that?” Mike asks, irritated. “I can’t control what she says.”
“You’re hersupervisor. Can’t you tell her not to be a racist bitch to your son and his friends?”
“Watch your language, Son,” Mike says, glancing around to see if anyone is nearby. “Shouldn’t you two be at the front with Jason and the LeClairs?”
Noah frowns. Instead, he tightens his grip on my hand and pulls me toward the food tent without saying anything else to his father.
CHAPTER EIGHTEENThe Last Hurray for the Old Bandstand
We each get a plate with a burger and salad, then take it back to the executive area at the front, but I’ve lost my appetite. Noah seems to feel the same, because he only eats about three bites of his burger before he pushes his plate away.
He doesn’t say anything about that interaction with his dad and that woman. Probably because we’re not alone. There are others—I assume a LeClair employee and his family—sitting next to us. A girl who is my age or a little younger keeps glancing at Noah, looking like she’s about to laugh. I have no idea what she’s finding so funny. His clothes? His spiderweb tattoo? His piercings? Or the fact that he’s here at the LeClair party sitting with the executives?
Liv and Sadie join us at our table. There’s no room for them to sit, so they stand, talking to us. They’re still holding hands, and the staring girl’s parents frown at them. I admire Sadie’s and Liv’s bravery. Noah dropped my hand immediately when he thought Ashley didn’t approve of us. But Sadie and Liv are actually a couple, and Noah and I are only pretending.
“This party is boring,” Sadie says after we talk about the food, the games, and the activities. “Last year they at least hada DJ. I mean, he was terrible, but the vibe was less… somber.”
I wonder if music hater Jason had something to do with there being no music this year.
“Is your uncle making a speech?” Liv asks Sadie. “Like, turning this into a campaign event?”
Sadie shakes her head. “No. My dad says they’re purposely not bringing up politics here, even though it’s kind of an unofficial campaign event. Uncle Jason knows that a lot of the plant staff aren’t going to vote for him because he’s a LeClair, and a lot of the plant workers worship Peter McCrae, but he’s hoping that being approachable might change a few minds. Honestly, it’s ridiculous. Uncle Jason’s great. He’d totally be a mayor who cares about the little people.” Sadie smiles at me. “Him marrying your mother—anurse—proves he doesn’t hate blue-collar workers. It was so smart of him to do that right before the campaign.”
My eyes widen. I know Sadie means well, but it’s clear she truly has no idea how offensive that is. Jason might not be my favorite person, and I’m not fond of the person my mother has become since marrying him, but I have zero doubt in my mind that Jasonadoresher. He didn’t marry her for strategy, to seem progressive, or for virtue signaling, despite what Ashley and Sadie might say. I remember what I overheard him say to Mom, that he wanted her with him more than he wanted air to breathe.
I cannot let this go. “Sadie, do you really think Jason married my mother to prove he’s, like,wokeor something?” I ask. “Instead of actually wanting to be with her?”
Sadie turns bright red. Her eyes are full of regret. “I—Ididn’t mean it that way! Your mom’s amazing! And so are you! I meant the timing, but you’re right. That’s silly.” She tilts her head and gives me an apologetic smile. “I really am so glad we’re cousins now, Meera.”
“Yeah, we love you!” Liv says, trying to smooth over her girlfriend’s blunder. “We don’t think you’re, like…”
“Blue-collar?” I ask. “Poor? Because weare. Or at least we used to be before Mom’s Cinderella story. My mother is a community-college-educated practical nurse—not even an RN. And we lived in my grandfather’s house for years because Mom couldn’t afford anything else. My grandfather who owns a gas station.”
