Page 19 of Falling Like Leaves (Bramble Falls #1)
My phone rings the following Friday afternoon.
After almost two full weeks of spending every spare minute working on my black dress, I’ve just finished it with the intention of wearing it to homecoming tomorrow night, especially since I blew off going to the mall with Sloane last week so that I could get started on it.
It turned out better than I could have ever anticipated—bold and beautiful, with silky material that hugs every one of my curves and lace that adds a unique flair. It’s honestly hot, and I can’t wait to show Fern.
I grab my phone off my tiny dresser, expecting to see her name on the screen because no one else calls me.
But it’s Dad.
I quickly swipe to answer. “Dad!”
“Hey, Ellis,” he says. He sounds upbeat. Happy. Not that I want him to be miserable, but he’s not supposed to sound so happy without Mom and me.
“I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for two weeks,” I say.
“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just been so busy.”
Too busy for your own daughter, I don’t say.
“I get it.” I sit on the edge of my bed and try to sound natural when I say, “Well, tell me everything. I heard you got a new intern.”
“I did,” he says. “She’s doing well. She caught on to everything quickly. Edward likes her.”
“She already met Mr. Street?” It took me months to meet him.
“She did, yes.” Dad clears his throat. “We had lunch last week.”
“Oh. That’s… nice,” I say, my voice catching.
“Now, Ellis, don’t get emotional,” he says.
“What? I’m not.” I totally am. Of course I am. This girl is replacing me. “But what about saving my internship for me?”
“You’ll still have a position when you get back, don’t worry.” There’s a rustling sound on the other end of the line. “Anyway, I called you for a reason.”
Because apparently just calling to say hi and see how I’m doing isn’t reason enough.
Ugh. I try to shake off my negativity. I hate being upset with him.
“I ran into an old friend of mine from college,” he says.
“His name is Justin Erikson. Turns out, he’s on the admissions committee at Columbia.
I told him all about you, and he said he’d be happy to talk with you.
I told him you’re going to school in Connecticut, so it might be hard to come during the week, but he said he’d meet with you this Saturday evening. ”
“As in tomorrow?”
“Yes, does that work for you?” he asks.
Anxiety blossoms in my belly, the same way it always does when I’m working on my Columbia application, swelling until I can barely hear my dad over my pulse pounding in my ears.
“Are you there?” Dad asks.
“Um, yeah. That sounds great,” I tell him. I squeeze my eyes closed and rub circles on my temples. “Do I need to bring anything with me?”
“Couldn’t hurt to have a résumé on hand,” he says. “Be prepared to talk about everything on it—your grades, accomplishments, jobs, and other commitments. It’s not an admissions interview, but it is a first impression, so make it a good one.”
No pressure or anything.
“Okay. Sounds good. Does Mom know?”
“I’ll call and tell her,” he says. “I’ll give Justin your email address so you two can arrange a time and place to meet.”
“All right. Thanks, Dad. Maybe you and I can get pizza afterward, and you can tell me everything that’s been happening at Street Media. I heard you’ve been meeting a lot with Mr. Gableman.”
“Sure,” he says noncommittally. “I have to go now.”
“Oh, okay.”
Not a single question about how life is here. How school is going. If I have friends. Whether I’m on the nonexistent school paper. Nothing.
But he is still looking out for me, and we can talk about all that stuff tomorrow night.
“I’ll see you this weekend. Love you, Ellie Belly.”
“Love you, too.”
The line goes silent, and I set my phone back on the dresser and flop onto my bed.
My homecoming dress stares back at me from where it’s hanging on the curtain rod, reminding me that now I have to cancel my homecoming plans with Jake.