Sway by Amy Matayo Page A

him killing me. I check the clock on my cell phone. Fifteen minutes. I have fifteen minutes to get there or my butt will be in a sling held tight by my father’s firm fist. It occurs to me that there’s something pathetic about a twenty-one-year-old still desperately trying to win her parent’s approval. Maybe when I’m thirty I’ll be over it, but it isn’t likely. When you’ve been the spokesperson for a nationwide crusade your whole life, there’s not much hope of your face being replaced. Unless maybe my children take over one day.
    There is no way my children will take over, ever.
    I shove my notebook into my bag and stand, nervous and fidgety but trying not to appear that way. I need to leave. Because of my inability to think ahead and open a freaking envelope on time, I need Caleb to drive me. But he’s still playing ball, immersed in having fun with a kid who really needs the attention. I feel like a diva for pulling him away, like a prima donna only concerned about herself. It’s a common struggle, one I’ve dealt with many times. Dropping everything for my parent’s rallies has become a way of life, including friend’s birthday parties, graduations, and one halfway enjoyable date I wasn’t ready to end. The guy never called me again.
    Panic starts to rise and grip me in its vise. Caleb sees it. Of course he sees it. The ball bounces from his hand and settles in a series of flat bounces as he studies my face.
    “What’s wrong?” he calls from across the room.
    “Um…Uh…” I say, just so embarrassed. I sigh and shift positions, but there’s no way to avoid it. “My parents have a thing…” I wince because it sounds so lame. “I forgot about it and I’m supposed to be there right now and I need to leave.” My lip slides between my teeth in my usual nervous gesture. “I can walk if you want to stay here. It’s not that far…I think. But they’re going to kill me if I don’t get there soon…” I let that last part trail off, just because it sounds so humiliating when I say it out loud.
    But Caleb just grins in his adorable way and uses his sleeve to wipe the ring of sweat from his forehead. “Don’t be silly. I’ll drive you.”
    The relief I feel is irrational, and I know it. I shouldn’t be this anxious about something involving my parents, but I’ve been late once before—back when I was fourteen and didn’t want to leave a dance recital. The national news covered my father’s reaction for days, analyzing whether or not his behavior teetered on child abuse. It didn’t. My father can get angry, but he loves me. I’ve never doubted it for a second.
    “Thank you.” I breathe an audible sigh. I want to hug him, but stop myself and just look at him for a second instead. I can’t decide if it’s his easygoing attitude, the way he embraces the downtrodden, or the way he’s so quick with a smile as though he doesn’t have a care in the world. I know that last one isn’t true. I’m certain he has a story that isn’t all that pretty. All I know is that I really like that smile.
    He winks at me before turning to Ben. “So what do you think of Kate? Think you can handle more of her questions if I bring her back here next week?”
    Ben dribbles the ball a few times before resting it on his hip. A female worker in navy blue scrubs walks through a door and announces lunch. A dozen kids go running, but Ben stays back. He flips the ball onto a fingertip and begins to twirl it.
    “I think I can take her, as long as she doesn’t get pushy. Besides,” he shrugs, “she pretty. I’ll do anything for a pretty girl.” Ben offers a smile my way that could light this room, but even that doesn’t break his concentration. The ball continues to spin.
    Caleb laughs when I blush. “So would I, dude. So would I.” He gives Ben the kind of fist-bump that only a couple of testosterone-filled guys can give. “That she is. We’ll be back next Monday.” He looks at me for approval, and I