“Seems to be.”
He clears his throat. “Then have a good time.”
“We will.”
Before I can escape he says, “Ryan, I'm not prying, but I'm honestly interested in what's going on in your life. Because I'm gone so much, I feel more like a shadow around here than your father. We never talk about much when I am home, so I ask questions to get a dialogue going, not to pry.”
“Okay.” I shove my hands into the pockets of my jeans. I'm not in the mood for this. What does he expect me to say?
“Girls, grades and sports—guy stuff, right, son?”
He's trying too hard. I'm not into sports, my grades suck, and how can I ever tell him about my “girl”? “Dad, I'm doing fine. Don't worry about me.”
“I'm not worried. It's just that we seem out of touch with each other. I chalk it up to you being sixteen and me being forty-seven, eh?”
“Dad, we haven't got any problems. My life's just not that interesting.”
He waves me off. “Frankly, I'm glad you're taking the dating scene nice and slow. You're smart. It hasn't been easy for you growing up without a mother.”
He surprises me, because we never talk about her. Or about what she did. “It doesn't bother me anymore,” I say. “I got over not having her around a long time ago.”
His mouth forms a hard line. “She shouldn't have left us,” he says.
“But she did.”
He reaches for his wallet, pulls out a few bills and hands them to me. “Enjoy the dance.”
I slip out of the house at midnight and Lori meets me at the end of the block. She's talkative during the drive. I'm glad because it means she's in a good mood, and she won't be once I drop my bomb. As soon as we're inside her apartment, she wraps her arms around me. We kiss, then I step back from her embrace. “Listen, I have to tell you something.”
“What is it?”
I tell her about the dance and taking Honey, adding, “I got backed into going, so don't get all frantic about it. It just happened and I have to do it.”
“Why would I get frantic?”
“I don't know….I just thought—”
“You're a high school freshman, Ryan. You made your case to me that sometimes you have to pick up your old life. I understand.”
Lori doesn't go off on a crying jag. This is easier than I'd expected.
“Go to the dance with that big horsey girl and have a golly-gosh good time.” She pats my cheek.
I should defend Honey. I don't.
“But you have to do something for me.”
“Like what?”
“Next Friday is a teachers' work day. You're out of classes. I don't intend to show up for work. I want us to spend the day in Savannah. It's only a few hours from Atlanta and we can actually walk around in the open where no one knows us.”
I'd planned to spend the day at Atlanta Underground, a cool hangout not far from home, with my friends. But I get that it's a trade-off—I get to go to the dance without a Lori scene, and she gets to go to Savannah with me in tow. It's worth it.
“All right,” I tell her. “It's a deal.”
Honey
“This is cool,” Jess says, holding up a dress that glitters with gold sequins.
“It shouts ‘hooker!’ ” Taylor says, pulling a simple green high-neck dress from the rack. “This is better.”
I look at my friends, hardly believing that this time I'm the one we're shopping for. That I'm the one Ryan has asked to the McAllister freshman-sophomore dance.
“Fine,” Jess snaps. “Send her out looking like her grandmother.”
“A movie star would wear this in a heartbeat,” Taylor says. “This is a happening dress.”
“Boring,” Jess says with a fake yawn. “An instant catnap. She needs to wow him, not put him to sleep.”
“Hey, hey.” I step between my two friends. “No fighting. This is supposed to be fun.”
“I'm having fun,” Taylor says. “Are you having fun?”
“I'm hysterical,” Jess says.
We burst out laughing. It's a teachers' workday and we're at the mall searching for the perfect dress. My friends are happy for me, and I'm happy too. But I know this date with Ryan isn't like a regular boyfriend-girlfriend thing. It's not as if he calls me for no reason, or cozies up to me at school, or comes by my house just to be with me. Ryan doesn't treat me the way Joel treats Jess, or Wade treats Taylor. I'm not complaining. I'll take what I can get.
“Here it is!” Taylor says, triumphantly pulling a long bright-blue dress off a rack. She holds it up and we all stare in awe. The dress is beautiful, perfect for me—simple, and more elegant than sexy.
The color matches Ryan's eyes, I think. “You've got something there,” I say. “Now let's hope it fits.”
I clutch the dress and the three of us rush into a fitting room.
Ryan
Lori and I have a blast in Savannah. She's happy all day and we laugh a lot and spend a ton of her money. She takes me shopping and buys me the newest and best gaming console on the market, plus a stack of games and CDs. She picks out really cool clothes for me at some men's store where the salesguy is wearing a pink dress shirt and a red silk tie. The suits are Italian linen and silk and the casual shirts and pants cost in the triple digits. Way out of my league!
We stick the bags in the trunk of the car and I tell her, “I can't take all this stuff home. Too many questions.”
“I'll keep the game box and most of the games at my place and you can use them when you come over. Problem solved.”
I figure I can hide the clothes in the back of my closet and pull out a shirt once in a while. I do my own laundry, so Dad won't notice the new stuff. I won't make the same mistake I made at Christmas. “That'll work.”
She's rented a convertible for the day, and driving with the top down makes talking difficult. Not a problem for me—I don't really want to talk, just blast down the open highway chasing the wind. On the trip home, Lori lets me drive. “You sure?” I ask, hopping into the driver's seat.
“Just don't get stopped by a cop.” She ties a scarf around her hair.
“Oh, baby!” I say, and zip onto the interstate, feeling the power of the engine through my hands on the steering wheel.
By the time we hit Atlanta, afternoon has faded into evening and traffic is thinner. We're at her place in no time. Upstairs, she kisses me. I drop the packages and kiss her back, really kiss her, because the day has rocked.
“Can you stay?” she asks.
“Dad made me promise to be home by nine.”
“But tomorrow's Saturday.”
“Can't help it. I said I'd be there. He's putting pressure on me lately. Wants to be my buddy.”
She rolls her eyes, and for a minute I think she's going to pitch a fit. I'm relieved when she finally says, “All right. I'll run you home.”
I gather up a couple of the new games to take with me. The clothes are still in the trunk. “Let's go.”
