I called Max on my prep period from the school phone. I had convinced myself that he wouldn’t answer otherwise.
When he did pick up, his slow voice revealed that my call had woken him. At 11:15 in the morning. On a weekday. "Max?" I'd said it as a question, though I’m not really sure why.
“Yeah, who’s this?” His voice held curiosity with a clear hint of annoyance.
“It’s Lily.”
“Lily? Is everything okay? Where are you calling from?” I could sense the worry in his voice, as if I’d only call him if something serious were wrong. And I guessed he was kind of right.
“I’m calling from school. Everything’s okay.” I paused, realizing what I’d said hadn’t been entirely true. “Well, kinda. I . . . talked to your mom. She's concerned. Jack called her because he couldn’t get a hold of you. There’s an opportunity—”
He cut me off before I had a chance to explain further. “That’s why you called? Because of my mom?” What little curiosity that had been present in his voice earlier had vanished. It now held pure frustration.
“I just wanted to make sure you knew about the opportunity. It’s at a local sports station for a guest—”
“I know what it is.” His voice grew louder and I heard a female in the background ask if everything was all right. “It’s fine,” Max assured her quietly, pulling the phone away from his mouth. “Go back to sleep. I can’t do this now,” he added gruffly. I knew that last sentence had been meant for me.
The dead air on the other end of the line only served to confirm it. Shit.
Chapter 4: Adam
“Come on, Eva. We gotta go. It’s only the second week of school and you already missed the bus.” My voice sounded angrier than I’d intended. I should have cut Eva a little slack because she was used to getting a ride from me, and I knew taking the bus this year would be an adjustment. But I couldn’t hide my annoyance. My morning drive to the new housing development I had been overseeing took me over an hour each way. Now, since I’d be leaving over twenty minutes later than usual, I’d be sitting in rush hour traffic. I probably had more than an hour and a half drive ahead of me.
Eva pulled the straightener thing through her hair for what seemed like the hundredth time. “I’m almost ready. I just need to put on mascara.”
“You don’t need mascara. You look fine. And when did you start wearing makeup anyway?"
“Ugh," she grunted in disgust as she put the straightener on the bathroom countertop and threw her makeup in a bag. “‘Fine’ isn’t good enough. And I’ve been wearing makeup for months. You don’t notice anything. I’ll just do it in the car,” she huffed. “Let’s go.”
The drive to school took even longer than expected as Eva told me repeatedly to slow down and be careful going over any speed bumps for fear of ruining her makeup. “Where’d you learn how to do that anyway?” I asked, nodding toward some powder thing she had in her hand.
“Brittany’s mom. She taught a bunch of us at a sleepover.” Her voice seemed more chipper than it had before we'd left the house. Only ten minutes earlier she’d been ready to give me a third degree burn with that hair contraption, and now she acted like it had never happened. Teenagers.
“Brittany’s mom?” I raised an eyebrow and looked over at her, hoping that she’d pick up on the reason for my question without my having to spell it out for her. Brittany’s mom was not the female influence I wanted for Eva. Her skin stayed perpetually bronzed, even during the winter thanks to baby oil and tanning salons. And to my knowledge, she didn’t own one article of clothing that didn’t cling to her body like plastic wrap. I wasn’t sure what she did for a living, but some of the other fathers and I had speculated on more than one occasion.
Eva flipped the mirrored visor up roughly, letting it slap against the roof. “Yeah, Brittany’s mom. Gosh, what’s your problem today?”
There’s the Eva I remember so vividly from earlier. “Sorry,” I replied with a slight shrug of my shoulders and a smirk.
“Just drop me off over there,” she said pointing to a side entrance of the building that was about thirty yards away from the main doors. “I don’t want people to see me getting out of your car.”
As ridiculous as I thought that was, she was still a thirteen-year-old girl, and I didn’t want to embarrass her. I rolled my eyes, but began to veer down the driveway toward the entrance Eva had requested.
Until I saw her. Lily. Walking up the sidewalk toward the school. My mind scolded itself for even thinking her name. And as if by reflex, I slammed on my brakes and threw the car into reverse.