Page 54 of Palm South University: Season 3

“SOUNDS LIKE MY LITTLE BROTHER,” I say to Mac’s mom with a laugh, adjusting the phone between my opposite shoulder and ear as I lay out the rest of my costume on my bed. She just finished telling me how he had two girls fighting over who he’d take to homecoming, so he told them whoever could kiss better would be the lucky lady on his arm.

Little bastard got two, steaming hot kisses from girls trying to prove something, and then invited them both to go, anyway.

And they agreed.

“He’s something,” she agrees with a chuckle of her own.

“Thank you again, Mrs. Harrison, for taking Clayton in and treating him like your own. I don’t…” I pause, trying to find the words. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to tell you what it means to me. To us.”

“He’s a good kid,” she says easily. “Easy to love, and easy to care for. We wouldn’t want him anywhere else but with us.”

I smile, chest tightening, and distantly I wonder if my mom ever thinks about him — about any of us. I wonder where she is. The only reason I even know she’s alive at all is because her and Carleton check in on his kids from time to time, long enough to send money or ask for it — depending on which side of the gambling ring they’re on that day.

“What about you?” Mac’s mom asks. “How is school?”

I rummage through my bathroom drawer for my suite mate’s tanning oil, tossing it on the bed. “It’s school. Classes are tough this semester, but luckily our fraternity is on probation, so I have more time to study.”

She clucks her tongue. “I’m sure you’re still finding ways to get in trouble.”

“Dressing up as David Hasselhoff circa 1989 as we speak.”

“Oh, God.” She snorts. “Do I even want to know?”

“Skyler and I are dressing up as theBaywatchcast for a Halloween boat party today.”

“That sounds like so much fun!” She sighs. “I’m really happy you have Skyler. And what she did for Clayton… I know he’ll never forget it. She’s a great friend, Clinton.”

I frown, tossing my black Omega Chi sunglasses on the bed with the rest of my costume. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, my…she didn’t tell you?” She sighs again, murmuring softly. “Humble on top of everything else.”

“Tell me what?”

There’s a pause, and for some reason my blood pressure ticks up a notch, like I’m about to hear something I don’t want to, my body preparing me for bad news before my brain even thinks it’s necessary.

“Clayton was in a rough place before your visit. My husband and I… well, we help him all that we can, and of course, you send him money every chance you get. And you worked the whole summer. But football is expensive, and he was going to have to make some tough decisions.”

“He didn’t tell me any of this,” I shoot back. “Does he need money? I can… I’ll get a job. I’ll sell some stuff.”

“You don’t have to,” she says quickly. “Skyler cut him a check, Clinton. She told him to chase his dreams and enjoy his high school years because she didn’t get the chance to.”

She keeps talking, telling me how much it was for, how they’re holding the money and only giving him what he needs when he needs it. She tells me how Clayton is also looking for a job after football season ends, but I can’t hear any of it over the ringing in my ears.

Skyler gave my little brother money, without telling me, withoutaskingme if it was okay.

“Like I said,” Mrs. Harrison says, snapping my attention back to her. “She’s a great friend.”

“Yeah,” I clip. “I have to go. Please, tell Clayton to call me tomorrow.”

“I will…” she says hesitantly, and before she can ask any questions, I end the call, gripping the phone hard in my fist.

I debate throwing it, but focus my rage on the person responsible instead of an inanimate object.

Everything is a blur as I walk to the Kappa Kappa Beta house, nostrils flaring the entire way. A small, quiet part of me tells me I’m probably overreacting, but the larger, screaming part reminds me that what Skyler did isn’t okay. Maybe she had good intentions and just wanted to help, but Clayton ismybrother, and my responsibility. I can take care of him without her help, and she knew I’d be upset by her helping, which is exactly why she didn’t tell me.

I pound on the front door when I reach the house, working my clenched fists together as I wait for someone to answer. A girl I don’t recognize, likely a new member, opens the door with wide eyes.

“Skyler. Now.”