“Uh-huh,” my dad said as he looked around, then dropped a napkin over the sushi remaining on his plate. He gave me an even look. “So I take it you won’t be seeing a certain novelist?”
“Well,” I said, stalling. “I mean, who can say, really, what will or will not happen?”
My dad laughed at that, surprising me. “I think you could have a future in politics, kid,” he said, shaking his head. “Well, when you do see Clark—”
“If. I mean, it’s a possibility. . . .”
“Tell him I have something I want to discuss with him.”
I set down my chopsticks and looked across the table at him. It was one thing for my father to start acting a little more like a dad. It was quite another for him to have the what are your intentions with my daughter? conversation. “Um, what’s that?”
“It’s about his book. He just introduces this whole new concept—this Luminosity thing—right as the first one ends. I’m going out tomorrow to get the second one.”
“Wait, you read his book?”
My dad nodded and laid his chopsticks across his plate. “I thought I should check them out. It really is impressive that he’s a published author. It’s quite an accomplishment for someone your age.”
I nodded, figuring it might be best not to point out that Clark had actually written the first one when he was three years younger than I currently was. “So was it good?”
My dad looked at me in surprise. “You haven’t read them?”
“I’m getting around to it,” I muttered as I took a drink of my Diet Coke, not sure if I could explain why I hadn’t yet. I was pretty sure the reason (well, one of them) was that when Clark and I were just hanging out, it was like I could forget he had this whole other life, where he was a professional author with a job and a tax return, who lots of people on the Internet were mad at.
“It was great. And it’s not the kind of thing I usually read.” My dad looked at me for a moment, then raised his eyebrows. “What would you think about having the next dinner at home?”
“Sounds good.”
“And why don’t you bring Clark,” he went on, so smoothly that I realized I’d just walked into his trap. There was, after all, a reason my dad had been successful in politics for most of his professional life. “If you’re spending time with him, I would like to get to know him.”
I quickly scrolled through possible excuses but realized my dad had skillfully painted me into a corner—I couldn’t say that Clark was busy, because he’d left the date open. Knowing when I’d been bested, I nodded. “I’ll ask.” I thought of something and looked up at him, eyes narrowing. “Is this actually because you want to get to know him, or because you want to ask him about the Luminosity thing?”
My dad shrugged as he signaled for the check. “You know,” he said with a smile, “two birds, one stone.”
? ? ?
Three hours later I sat on one of the lounge chairs by the pool, with Bertie, who had seemed thrilled by all the unexpected company, flopped across my legs. I’d never spent much time around Clark’s pool—the only time I’d ever even been in his backyard was when Bertie had managed to make it outside during his favorite game, Run From the Lady with the Leash. But now that I was out here, I could see it was lovely—landscaped and carefully designed, with lounge chairs placed at exact intervals. The lounge chairs were white and beige striped, which matched the striped towels that were rolled up in baskets placed around the pool deck. Basically, this looked like the kind of pool people had when they never used their pool, which was certainly not the case now.
Wyatt had spent most of the night floating around on a pool raft, looking like he wasn’t planning to move a muscle, lulling everyone into a sense of complacency, and then had started a stealth-dunking campaign. He would begin a conversation with you, and then just when you’d let your guard down, he would dunk you unexpectedly. After he’d gotten me twice in a row, I’d gotten out. Wyatt now seemed determined to dunk Bri, despite the fact that Toby was pretty obviously putting herself in his path. Clark was sitting in the hot tub, and Tom and Palmer were currently making out on the diving board.
My phone buzzed on the lounge chair next to me, and I picked it up, frowning when I saw it was from Toby.
TOBY
I looked over to where she was standing by the overstocked food table, but she was not meeting my eye, and I had a feeling she didn’t want people—people meaning Wyatt—to know we were texting about this.
ME
You’re sad because Wyatt’s not dunking you?
TOBY
ME
I’m sorry, T.