hanger.
“No,” I said. Without comment she raised an eyebrow but slid it back into the closet. She began rummaging again.
“How do I look?” Sara asked, her parental tone either invisible or held well in check. She spun and popped a hand on her hip for good measure.
“Terrible,” Daphne said, with an annoyed tone and without looking. She remained shoulder-deep in my closet.
“You look great,” I said, but I wasn’t paying attention. It looked like a designer jeans, fluffy black top outfit of the style that Sara usually whipped out for special occasions. She pulled the look off well.
Daphne came out with a pink tulip skirt. I made the vomit face, and she tossed it back in.
Wanda slumped even further into whatever misery-induced coma she was gunning for. I wanted to ask her what was wrong, but with the animosity shooting in sparks between Daphne and Sara, it didn’t feel like the right environment. Wanda was fragile as it was—pushing it any further, in semi-public, might make her shatter.
Sara wouldn’t stop looking at me. She looked worried, pissed, and confused. The kind of combo you might imagine on a friend looking out for your safety and also hoping you don’t ruin their good time.
“I don’t think anything is gonna happen,” Daphne said, reading either Sara's thoughts or my own.
Daphne emerged from the closet with a cute black A-line skirt with lace trim and a deep purple scoop-neck blouse hanging from separate hangers. I raised an eyebrow in surprise.
She turned a box over with her foot, and my smoke-gray wedges poured out and tumbled to the carpet. Sara laughed, a single bark that she couldn’t contain despite her tiff with Daphne, and Wanda said, “Wow.” I gave the suggested ensemble a once-over, nodded, and bowed deeply.
“Your ability to zero in on taste is second to none, Daph.”
Daphne grinned. “You’re welcome.”
When we were all dressed, ready, made-up, and sure that the twenty minutes Zack and Benny waited outside was sufficient, we all headed down in a gaggle. I noticed Wanda typing into her phone diligently for the better part of the prep-time, and she tucked it away with a sharp, annoyed gesture when we left my room.
I wasn’t surprised to see my dad waiting at the bottom of the stairs. The look he gave me could only be described as crestfallen. I flashed him a sympathetic smile and touched his arm as I passed. Much to my surprise, he locked his fingers around my wrist and stopped me dead in my tracks. I glanced up at Wanda, Daph, and Sara, and cocked my head toward the door.
“I’ll…be there in a sec,” I said, trying to keep my tone light.
“Okay,” Daphne said, too cheerfully. “We’re gone in five.”
I growled but said nothing.
“Luce?”
I glanced up at Dad.
“I thought it was—”
“It is,” Dad said, and took in a deep breath. “I want to meet Zack.”
Blood…draining from face. Skin pale, breath sharp. Fast. Heart setting off firecrackers in my chest. Taste of batteries. Wet hands.
“Dad—”
“No, Luce,” he said. “This is my thing. Let me have it.”
“No.”
“I’m not asking,” Dad said. “Zack in this living room or your ass upstairs.”
He said it with that same pleasant, let’s-work-together tone. My fingers were sore from curling into fists. It felt like my hands were being stretched from the inside.
“Fine,” I said. “Three minutes, tops.”
He had something up his sleeve, and something I wasn’t going to be happy about. I took a deep breath, left the house, and jogged out to Benny’s minivan.
The girls were already inside, buckled in, and laughing to each other. Zack was in the passenger seat, and I rapped my knuckle on his window. I took three deep breaths, thinking of the parking lot today. Thinking of him kissing me. Then thinking of me running away like a drama-mama freak.
“Yes, Madame?” Zack asked, the top of the window whizzing past his face. He didn’t seem upset. Allow me to fix that.
“You have to come inside.”
I gave him a look. Zack didn’t even try to hide his smirk. He unfolded from the cramped seat, shoved the door open, and hopped down into the damp grass. Zack smoothed his clothes and hair, an unnecessary move—he looked great. White shirt, sleeves rolled up, faded-but-stylish blue jeans, and a pair of brown shoes.
I took a deep breath, desperate to negate a powerful need to up-chuck. Zack laid his hand across my back, his palm hot against the thin cloth of my shirt. I shivered.
He led me to the stoop like I didn’t know the way. I stared at him, but his sideways smirk didn’t shake. The door opened, and I nearly jumped out of my stylish yet comfortable wedges.
Dad leaned against the door frame, bouncing a stare down off of Zack’s implacable features.
Unfazed, Zack stuck his big hand out and flashed a dazzling smile.
“My name is Zack, Mr. Day,” he said. “It’s great to finally meet you.”
“You, too, Zack,” Dad said, and shook his hand. “Happy birthday by the way…”
My dad let the sentence fade and his last breath hang. It was a trick, and I sucked in a little tight breath. I tried to look at Zack without looking at Zack. Not easy, let me tell you.
“Oh no, sir,” Zack said. “It’s not my birthday.”
“Oh, right,” Dad said. “Benny’s?”
“Yup,” Zack said. “My best friend. He’s a good guy, Mr. Day.”
Zack was smoother than a gravy sandwich. The thought made my stomach jolt—just how many girls’ fathers had he schmoozed into complacence?
“I’m sure, but—”
Zack took a deep breath and held out one hand. I saw my dad inflate at the interruption, but Zack barreled through anyway. I had to say, I was impressed. Terrified, but impressed.
“Mr. Day,” Zack said. “I promise to take care of your daughter. Where she goes, I go. She doesn’t leave my sight unless she’s in the bathroom, and even then I’ll demand she never stop whistling. I searched for Lucy for six hours when she disappeared, and I would have looked for sixty. She might end up hating me, but she won’t be in danger. That I promise.”
I slipped my hand slowly over my mouth during his words, trying to fight an urge to either sob uncontrollably or leap at him and kiss him so hard his shoes would turn to dust.
Dad inflated even more—I half-expected his eyes to turn red—and took a step forward.
Zack and Dad stared at each other, and after a long beat, Dad nodded.
“Home at 10:30,” Dad said to me. “Got it?”
Zack flashed me a
“You bet,” I said, and smiled wide. “See ya, Daddy!”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Day,” Zack said, and shook hands with my dad again.
Dad looked suspicious but oddly comforted. Zack touched his hand to my lower back again, a feeling I was definitely not getting tired of, and lead me back to Benny’s car.
The reception was inevitable. As soon as we both got in the car, a chorus of “oooooohs” and “oh yeahs” erupted through the little minivan. I slugged Sara in the arm as hard as I could, not that it mattered. She was solid muscle, and I think I bruised my knuckles.
Benny glanced back at us from the driver’s seat, and Daphne leaned forward to smash her hand against the back of his headrest.
“Hiyo, Silver, away!”
We pulled up to Benny’s and flooded out of the car. Benny and Zack had been engaged in a near-violent discussion of music choice, and as soon as Benny stopped the van in front his house the two of them threw their doors open and power-walked up the front steps, arms waving wildly. Benny was positive that only ’80s punk rock
