The Education of Sebastian by Jane Harvey-Berrick Page B

anything alone ever again.
    “I looked at some courses at NYU,” he said, in a voice that was just one shade too casual to be believable.
    “And?”
    “Nothing, really. I just thought it would be cool: you and me in the Big Apple.”
    “Sebastian, I don’t mind where we go. If you want to go to New York, if you’ve seen some courses that interest you, then that’s what we’ll do.”
    “Really?”
    He beamed at me.
    “Of course! It’s just as much your future as mine.” Or more.
    In secrecy, we planned for Sebastian to apply to NYU, with his courses starting in the Spring semester. We – and I delighted in that small pronoun – would leave California as soon as he was 18, which was October 2nd, and hoped to hide in the anonymity of the grey metropolis. I would, of course, find work as a journalist, and undoubtedly we would be happy.
    I was swept up in that delicious dream. I couldn’t fully hide my happiness; someone was bound to notice.
    “Caroline!”
    Donna Vorstadt’s voice interrupted my happy musings in the Kwik Shop.
    “How are you? Johan and I are really looking forward to your little soirée tomorrow.”
    My brain lurched to attention. Had she seen me arrive with Sebastian? No, she was still smiling, acting normally – unlike me.
    “Oh, yes, of course! Sorry, my mind was elsewhere.”
    So true .
    “It must have been somewhere lovely – I called your name three times!”
    I flushed uncomfortably and she raised an eyebrow, but was kind enough not to pursue the point.
    “David told Johan that you’ll be making some of your delicious little Italian delicacies.”
    She glanced, puzzled, at my cart. A milk carton and bottle of olive oil blinked back at her.
    “I prefer to cook everything from fresh,” I muttered, improvising wretchedly.
    “Of course,” she smiled. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. Oh, look! There’s the Hunters’ boy over by the cold meat counter. He’s cut his hair. Goodness! Sebastian! Yoo-hoo!”
    A brief expression of horror swept over his face before he schooled his features into blankness. He walked towards us, warily.
    “Hi, Mrs. Vorstadt.” He paused. “Mrs. Wilson,” he muttered.
    “Hello, Sebastian,” she said, eyeing his buzz-cut. “Are you shopping for your mother?”
    “Um…”
    “That’s awfully good of you. I wish I could get my boys to do chores around the house. They think food just materializes into the refrigerator.”
    I laughed weakly and Sebastian smiled, giving a vague, non-committal answer.
    “Can I give you a ride home, Sebastian?” Donna offered kindly.
    “No, thanks, Mrs. Vorstadt, I’m good.”
    She smiled. “Well… see you tomorrow, Caroline.”
    “Bye.”
    Eventually she disappeared behind the frozen goods and I let out a sigh of relief. I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath.
    “We must be more careful,” I whispered.
    Sebastian nodded solemnly, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes.
    “What?!”
    He shook his head, a small smile escaping. “Let’s get out of here.”
    I abandoned my few goods with the shopping cart, much to the irritation of the staff, no doubt, and headed for the parking lot. Our exit was certainly more discreet than our aborted shopping expedition.
    I slipped into the driver’s seat feeling elated and guilty at the same time.
    Sebastian let his fingers drift down my neck; a shiver ran through me.
    “Not here!”
    “Where then?”
    “Let’s go to the beach.”
    He grinned. “Perfect.”
    As I drove he fiddled with the radio and picked up a station playing cool, ambient jazz.
    “Mom and dad have been on my case about getting a summer job,” he said casually.
    My heart sank: if he worked all day, I’d never see him. I couldn’t go out in the evenings, not without facing the inquisition from David.
    “What sort of job?”
    He shrugged. “Ches says I could get a job bussing tables at the place he works – the country club out at La Jolla.”
    “That sounds… fun.”
    “Mostly