Page 25 of Sunday Morning
“Excuse me?” I wrinkled my nose.
“Silver cords. That’s disappointing.”
My jaw dropped. Was he implying that silver cords meant I was stupid? There were some students who didn’t qualify for any cords.
“At least I have cords. I bet you barely got a gown and a hat with a tassel.”
He pulled on my cords, removing them with a quick jerk. Then he used them to stretch over his head like Matt did with a baseball bat before his games.
“I was valedictorian like Matty.”
“Pfft.” I rolled my eyes.
Isaac grinned, and I couldn’t tell if he was mocking me or gloating. “It’s true. Hey, Mom?”
Violet turned toward us, narrowing her eyes at my cords stretched above Isaac’s head as he twisted right and then left.
“Was I valedictorian of my class?”
“Give Sarah her cords back before you do something to them. Yes, you were valedictorian. Why?”
Had I wired it shut, I could not have prevented my jaw from dropping. The shock was too much.
Violet returned her attention to my friend Kennedy and her parents while Isaac’s grin swelled to obnoxious proportions.
“I heard you didn’t get into Vanderbilt. Maybe I could tutor you so you can retake your SATs and get a better score.” Isaac lassoed my cords, catching my neck in the hole.
My eyes almost popped out of my head.
“What flavor of cake are you having at your party?” he asked.
I removed the cords, so I didn’t look like a captured cow. “Chocolate and vanilla.”
“Marble? Or separate?”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because I’m deciding which parties I’m going to hit based on the cake flavors being served.”
“Who said you’re invited to my party?”
His smirk returned. “Your parents invited my whole family. Are you having barbecued beef or those little turkeysandwiches on rolls with mayo and mustard? God, I love those. What about the mints? Are you serving the cream cheese kind? My mom and aunt made hundreds of them for Matty’s party.”
“He hates when you call him Matty. And I’m not a fan of Sunday Morning.”
Isaac’s eyebrows slid up his forehead. “I won’t tell your dad that.”
“You’re an idiot.”
He chuckled. “But I’m an idiot who loves little turkey sandwiches and cream cheese mints. So just give me the menu,” he looked at his hefty military-grade watch, “so I can plan accordingly.”
I pivoted, searching for Matt or anyone who I could talk to who wasn’t Isaac Cory.
“Sarah! You didn’t tell me Matt’s going to play baseball at Michigan,” Kristy snagged my arm. “He has a full ride? That’s so cool. I’m going there too.”
I fought for a non-catty smile. Kristy had a crush on Matt. She had ever since her family moved to Devil’s Head our sophomore year. Despite knowing I was his girlfriend, she always talked about him in front of me like we were girls crushing on a movie star.
Butweweren’t.