“What do you mean—our own decisions? You mean to take sides? About joining with Azazel?” I spun the Oreo like a top and glanced at him through my lashes.
He leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing his ankles. “That would be one decision, yes.” He tried to seem relaxed, but I could hear the tension in his voice and see it in the way his neck muscles bunched around his shirt collar.
“And the other is to remain a demi?”
“Yes.” His tone was just a little too sharp and when he put his glass down, it hit the table just a little too hard. Most people wouldn’t have noticed.
“But those are the only two? I mean, we can’t renounce our status, can we, Dad? I can’t walk away from being a demi?”
My eyes were trained on my dad, waiting for an answer and hoping it was one I wanted to hear. I gripped my cookie so hard that it broke and the pieces plopped into my milk. I ignored it.
“Not that I’m aware of. I’ve never heard of it happening before. The only way would be to join with Azazel and transfer your powers to him,” he said, a grim look on his face.
“And that’s what Lily did.” Tears sprung to my eyes.
“I know.”
I sniffed and wiped my tears away with the back of my hand. “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m crying.” I tried to laugh, but it came out as a sob. “I barely know her, and she doesn’t even like me.”
He sat up and leaned toward me in his seat. “It doesn’t matter how well you knew her. She betrayed you. She betrayed the entire group. It’s okay to feel sad and angry about that.”
“Dad? If there were something going on, you’d tell me, right? I mean, if you knew someone was thinking about changing sides, or if they already have, you’d tell me? Because I don’t want to find out like I did with Lily if someone I really care about decides to betray the team.”
He tilted his head to the side and studied my face for a beat. His brows furrowed over his eyes. “Of course I’d tell you, Milayna. Is there something you should tell me?”
“Nope. Everything’s good, Dad.” I stood and grabbed my things before giving him a kiss on the cheek. “I gotta get ready.”
“Oh right, the big game is tonight. Let’s see,” he scratched his eyebrow with his thumb, “we want the Cowboys to win, right?”
I rolled my eyes. “You make the same joke every year. Maybe if you’d stop, we’d actually win a game.”
He made an overly innocent face. “I guess I jinxed you for another year.”
“Thanks for the cookies, even if you did commit petty larceny by taking them. And make no mistake, Mom will press charges if she finds out.”
“Yeah, yeah. When your mom notices they’re gone, we’ll just blame it on Ben.” My dad grinned, and I laughed.
***
Chay picked me up at exactly five o’clock. The game didn’t start until seven.
Chay held the car door open for me, and I slid in. “Why do you want to go so early?” I asked.
“My Uncle Stewart sets up an ice cream truck every year at the game. I help him. You don’t have to help if you don’t want to. I just couldn’t—”
“I’ll help.”
“I’m sure there’ll be a free milkshake in it for ya,” he told me. He looked over and smiled.
“I’d do it even if there wasn’t. I don’t mind helping.”
And you’ll be there. Enough of a reason for me.
“I know you would. You’re a nice person, Milayna.” He shifted the car into drive and maneuvered through the streets of our subdivision.
“Oh, ah, thanks,” I said, feeling my face warm. “You can be nice, too, when you try really hard.”
He laughed and nodded his head. “Yeah. I’ve been told that before.”
“I can believe it.”
The ride to the school was short. It was only a few—silent—minutes later when Chay parked. We walked to the field and found his uncle’s ice cream truck. “Hey, Uncle Stewart, what do you want me to do?” Chay called.
His uncle stuck his head out of the door and smiled. “Hiya, Chay. Hiya, Milayna!”
“Hi, Uncle.” I lifted my hand in a wave.
I dropped my things on the ground next to the truck’s opening. “What can I do to help?”
“You’re helping me? Well, ain’t that sweet of ya!”
“Hello? Your nephew over here is helping, too.” Chay waved his hand in his uncle’s face.
“Yeah, but she’s sweeter than you. C’mon, Milayna, I’ll show you what needs doin’.”
I smiled over my shoulder at Chay and followed Uncle Stewart inside the truck.
Uncle Stewart showed me how to mix the malt base and the ice cream base for the machines. Then I was given the extra hard job of putting out the toppings. I had a suspicion that he was giving me all the easy jobs. Chay was washing down the truck from ceiling to floor, making sure everything sparkled before it opened.