THE KNOWLEDGE THAT DAD HAS A DATE tomorrow night has been digging into me all week like a pebble in my shoe. What’s worse, Jamie hasn’t been coming over after practice. Her sister Sarah has the same flu that Dad had over the weekend, which means that Jamie has to go straight home every day and babysit her niece, Ariella. Sarah’s a teacher, so even though her husband can drop Ariella off at daycare, someone still has to pick her up and take care of her in the afternoon. Dad has been coming home early every night—still not in time for dinner, but early enough to check my math homework and watch the news. We’ve even planned a family day for Saturday: go out for pancakes, maybe drive to the beach, and come back and watch a movie at home together. But he’s supposed to meet Emoji Woman tomorrow night.
The girls and I walk into trig just as the first-period bell rings; Caleb walks in right after us. “Hey, you got another meet tomorrow?” he asks, and Reggie, Elaine, and Hanh exchange significant glances.
“Yeah, she does. Are you going to be there?” says Hanh, with a voice like silk.
“He was only there last week to watch his cousin,” I remind her with a glare.
“Yeah.” Caleb shrugs. “I dunno, it’s kind of fun hanging out at the park, you know? And seeing all these weirdos running by. It’s entertaining. God, why do you do it? Why put yourself through that on purpose?”
Reggie nods. “Right? Exactly.”
“It’s fun. It feels good.”
Caleb shakes his head. “Suit yourself. Where’s your meet tomorrow, anyway?” He threads his way to his seat, and I shoot a glare at Hahn, Reggie, and Elaine as they huddle up and begin whispering.
“Silver Creek. You’d have to drive or take the bus there.”
Caleb nods thoughtfully. “Thom’s dad’s house is in Silver Creek. I drive him down there sometimes. Maybe we’ll stop by.”
I’m about to tell him not to bother, when something he said hits me, and I get an idea. “You have a car?”
“Yeah. It’s a piece of shit, but it works.”
Okay. Here goes nothing. “Do you think you could do me a huge favor? Like, huge?”
Caleb leans back and eyes me skeptically. “I don’t know. What’s it worth to you?”
“What? I—” This is ridiculous. “No, forget it. It’s a bad idea.” Bad and risky and . . . just bad.
“No, what? Now I’m curious. Just tell me. You won’t owe me anything.”
“No,” I insist. “Really. Just forget it.”
“All right, class, good morning! Let’s get started.” It’s Mr. Green, thank goodness. I’m off the hook. I shrug my shoulders at Caleb and he scowls at me, but then presses and cajoles at every opportunity, of which there are many, because as luck would have it, it’s a partner-work day and we’re partners.
We finish figuring out the width of a south-flowing river being measured by surveyors across the river from a tree, and finally I give in. Partly because I owe Caleb for doing most of the work on the problem, partly because I’m sick of the pestering, and partly—okay, mostly—because I just can’t help it, I have to know what Dad is up to.
“I need a ride to my—to this company after my meet tomorrow. And then, um, I need you to wait with me outside and uh, follow someone when they leave.” Once the words are out of my mouth, I realize how kooky they sound. “Actually, no. I just heard myself and I sound . . . yeah. So, yeah, just—”
“No, no, no!” Caleb cuts in. “That sounds sick! Like a stakeout, right? I’m totally down for that. Who’re you following? What are you trying to find out? Let’s do it. It sounds fun.”
“No, no, it’s stupid.”
“No, it’s gonna be fun. We can, like, eat sandwiches and drink Red Bull, you know? I’ll bring binoculars—”
“No! No binoculars!” I don’t need him figuring out who it is we’re tailing.
“What? Come on! We need binoculars if we’re gonna be like real detect—”
“We’re not real detectives. I know what his car looks like. That’s all we need.”
Caleb slumps in his chair and pouts. “Okay, fine. But it sounds like you’re going for it. Right? We’re on for tomorrow, right?”
“Ugh. Fine. Meet me in the parking lot at six.” Then I remember that I’m the one who asked him to do this. “Thank you.”
“No problem.”
Thursday passes as if the whole school is underwater. Everything moves slowly. Nothing anyone says penetrates or makes any sense. I feel like I can’t breathe properly, like my lungs are bursting and I just need to get out, out, out of there. Elaine, Hanh, and Reggie keep giving me funny looks during lunch and asking if I’m okay, but I just shake my head and look away. “I’m fine,” is all I can manage, because if I say any more, my worries about Dad will come tumbling out. Worse, I might start crying right out there in front of everyone, and there’s nothing more attention-grabbing than a teary-eyed drama queen at lunch. And attention is the last thing I want right now.
The meet lifts the heaviness a little. I can feel my adrenaline pick up even as I get on the bus with my teammates. Seeing Jamie always helps, of course. And during the race I get to run, breathe, and feel pain that I can define and understand. I get to talk—oh, let’s be honest, I’m flirting—with Jamie, gossip a little with Janet, and focus on something besides Dad and the dumb thing I’m about to do.
As we gather our things and head to the bus back to school, Jamie trots up to me and says, “Hey, my mom said she’d take Ariella tonight. Wanna chill for a while after we get back? I’ll take the six forty-five bus back home instead of the six fifteen—I can say the meet ran late.”
Come. On. All week I’ve been missing Jamie, and now that I finally get a chance to be alone with her, I have to tell her that I’m going to spend the next two or three hours alone in a car with Caleb?
We climb onto the bus and I pick a seat at the front, away from everyone else. Jamie sits next to me. We sit with our backpacks on our laps, our arms draped over them and touching a little at the elbows.
“So?” says Jamie.
“Um, so this is gonna sound weird, but I have to . . . Caleb Miller is picking me up after we get back. We have this . . . project we have to do.”
“Oh.” Jamie straightens up and shifts away from me. “What project? I thought you said you only had trig with him. Trig doesn’t have projects.”
Cringing inside, I say, “I know. It’s for something else.”
“Something else like a date?” She’s smiling, but only with her mouth. Her voice is light, but brittle.
“No! It’s not like that.”
“I thought you said you liked someone else.”
“I do.”
“Then what—”
I have no choice if I want her to believe me. I have to tell the truth. “My dad’s having an affair,” I mumble.