Spencer sneezed again. A cloud of Chanel No. 5 always preceded her mom—even though she spent the whole day working around horses—and Spencer was certain she was allergic. She considered announcing her PSAT news, but a twinkly voice from the foyer stopped her.
“Mom?” Melissa called. She and Wren strolled into the kitchen. Spencer pretended to study Middlemarch’s boring back cover.
“Hey,” Wren said above her.
“Hey,” she answered coolly.
“Whatcha reading?”
Spencer hesitated. It was better to steer clear of Wren, especially now that he was moving in.
Melissa brushed by without saying hello and began to unpack purple pillows from a Pottery Barn bag. “These are for the couch in the barn,” she practically yelled.
Spencer cringed. Two could play at this game. “Oh, Melissa!” Spencer cried. “I forgot to tell you! Guess who I ran into!”
Melissa continued to unpack the pillows. “Who?”
“Ian Thomas! He’s coaching my field hockey team now!”
Melissa froze. “He…what? He is? He’s here? Did he ask about me?”
Spencer shrugged and pretended to think. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Who’s Ian Thomas?” Wren asked, leaning against the marble island counter.
“No one,” Melissa snapped, turning back to the pillows. Spencer slapped her book shut and skipped off to the dining room. There. That felt better.
She sat down at the long, mission-style farmhouse table, running her finger around the stemless wineglass Candace, the family’s housekeeper, had just filled with red wine. Her parents didn’t care if their kids drank while they were at home as long as no one was driving, so she grabbed the glass with both hands and greedily took a large gulp. When she looked up, Wren was smirking at her from across the table, his spine very straight in his dining chair.
“Hey,” he said. She raised her eyebrows in answer.
Melissa and Mrs. Hastings sat down, and Spencer’s father adjusted the chandelier lights and took a seat as well. For a moment everyone was quiet. Spencer felt for the PSAT score papers in her pocket. “So guess what happened to me,” she began.
“Wren and I are so happy you’re letting us stay here!” Melissa said at the same time, grabbing Wren’s hand.
Mrs. Hastings smiled at Melissa. “I’m always happy when the family’s all here.”
Spencer bit her lip, her stomach nervously gurgling. “So, Dad. I got my—”
“Uh-oh,” Melissa interrupted, staring down at the plates Candace had just brought in from the kitchen. “Do we have anything other than chicken? Wren’s trying not to eat meat.”
“It’s all right,” Wren said hastily. “Chicken is perfect.”
“Oh!” Mrs. Hastings stood up halfway. “You don’t eat meat? I didn’t know! I think we may have some pasta salad in the fridge, although it might have ham in it….”
“Really, it’s okay.” Wren rubbed his head uncomfortably, making his messy black hair stand up in peaks.
“Oh, I feel terrible,” Mrs. Hastings said. Spencer rolled her eyes. When the whole family was together, her mom wanted all meals—even sloppy cereal breakfasts—to be perfect.
Mr. Hastings eyed Wren suspiciously. “I’m a steak man, myself.”
“Absolutely.” Wren lifted his glass so forcefully that a little wine spilled on the tablecloth.
Spencer was considering a good segue into her big announcement when her father laid down his fork.
“I’ve got a brilliant idea. Since we’re all here, why don’t we play Star Power?”
“Oh, Daddy.” Melissa grinned. “No.”
Her father smiled. “Oh yes. I had a terrific day at work. I’m going to kick your butt.”
“What’s Star Power?” Wren asked, his eyebrows arched.
A nervous glow grew in Spencer’s stomach. Star Power was a game her parents had made up when Spencer and Melissa were little kids that she’d always suspected they’d pilfered from some company power-retreat. It was simple: Everyone shared their biggest achievement of the day, and the family would select one Star. It was supposed to make people feel proud and accomplished, but in the Hastings family, people just got ruthlessly competitive.
But if there was one perfect way for Spencer to announce her PSAT results, Star Power was it.
“You’ll catch on, Wren,” Mr. Hastings said. “I’ll start. Today, I prepared a defense so compelling for my client, he actually offered to pay me more money.”
“Impressive,” her mother said, taking a tiny bite of a golden beet. “Now me. This morning, I beat Eloise at tennis in straight sets.”
“Eloise is tough!” her father cried before taking another sip of wine. Spencer peeked at Wren across the table. He was carefully peeling the skin off his chicken thigh, so she couldn’t catch his eye.
Her mother dabbed her mouth with her napkin. “Melissa?”
Melissa laced her stubby-nailed fingers together. “Well, hmm. I helped the builders tile the entire bathroom—the only way it’d be perfect is if I did it myself.”
“Good for you, dear!” her father said.
Spencer jiggled her legs nervously.
Mr. Hastings finished sipping his wine. “Wren?”
Wren looked up, startled. “Yes?”
“It’s your turn.”
Wren fiddled with his wineglass. “I don’t know what I should say….”