I listen and say, “You didn’t have to disclose any of that to me, you know. People have pasts. It’s not a big deal. I mean, I guess my reaction was more because of the way she was approaching it, and approaching, um, you. And just pretending I wasn’t there and throwing it in my face.”
“Boobs first?” He laughs.
I smile. “Yeah, you noticed? It’s kind of sad, actually.” He nods. “She has no self-confidence. And . . . I think
I took the joke too far. I kept expecting her to get it, but she got so hung up on whether she’d—well, yeah. You were there.”
“Yeah.” I shrug. “Well, thanks for explaining, and, you know, I’m not mad or anything, I just don’t like her. She used to be my friend and now she’s just . . . sad. And mean.”
“So . . . you still like me?” he asks with a grin. He slips his hand in mine.
“A little,” I agree.
By the time Trey comes back, Sawyer and I are both on computers. I’m researching private schools; Sawyer’s trying to get close-ups of every frame in his vision. “When I was watching it in my spoon and everything was upside down,” he says, “I thought I saw something through the window.”
Trey looks at Sawyer’s screen automatically, even though he and I both know we can’t see anything. He laughs. “You picked ‘Surprised Kitty’ as the video to channel it?”
Sawyer is concentrating too hard to laugh. “Yeah. I mean, why not entertain you guys.” He hits pause and stares, then takes a screen shot that only he can see and starts enlarging it.
I go back to looking up schools and start bookmarking them so I can show them all to Sawyer at once. And then he mutters, “Yesss,” and starts scribbling things on a notepad. “There’s the road in relationship to the building. Now I’m getting a bigger picture.”
Trey and I look over and wait for him to finish. We haven’t had a “Yesss” in forever. I squeeze my eyes shut and hope for a major breakthrough.
But when I open my eyes again, I see Trey looking at his phone and muttering, “Shit,” and I see Sawyer looking at the stairway and getting to his feet.
Because guess who’s here? Yay, it’s my dad.
Dad reaches the top of the stairs and spies us. Trey types something quickly and stashes his phone, and he stands up, so I stand up too.
“Hey, Dad,” Trey says. He puts his hands in his pockets. “What’s up?”
Dad stares at me, and then he looks at Sawyer.
“Hi, Mr. Demarco,” Sawyer says. His voice is calm.
I don’t say a word.
Dad looks like he’s trying to hold it in. His face is red. But he won’t make a scene in a public place. Not in front of potential customers. He doesn’t answer Sawyer, which feels kind of jerkish to me. Instead he looks back at me and says, “Tree research. Is that the same as chess club?”
“Dad—” I say.
“Don’t bother,” he says, and I’m a little freaked-out that his voice is so quiet. “Both of you, it’s time to go. Julia, you’re coming with me. Trey, come on. You take the truck.”
“No, sorry, Dad. I’m still working—” Trey begins.
“You’ll get home in ten minutes or you’re grounded too, like this one.”
“Dad, I’m eighteen,” Trey says. “I’m graduating from high school in two and a half months.” He sits back down. “You can’t ground me.”
“Watch me.”
“No, you watch me. Watch me sit here and do my homework like an excellent student. What the heck is wrong with you? I’ll be home when I’m finished with it, and I’ll get a good grade like I always do, and then I’ll go to work for you and do a good job there, too. But right now, I’ll sit with Sawyer Angotti if I feel like it, so don’t even go there. This stupid rivalry ends with your generation. It doesn’t exist in mine.”
Dad’s face twitches. He gives Trey a long, hard look that scares the crap out of me, and then he looks at me. “Come on, Julia.”
I stand there. And my face is hot, and I feel like yelling, and my stomach hurts.
“Julia,” my father says again, his voice ending on a strained note, and I can tell he’s about to blow a gasket.
I press my lips together and swallow hard. I shake my head. And I don’t move. We stare at each other for the longest five seconds of my life. And then Trey says, “Jules, go with Dad.”
I glance at him and frown, but his face is set. I look at Sawyer, and he nods in agreement with Trey.
And I’m like, what the heck? I can’t even think clearly. I feel like a total baby. I know I’m going to get reamed the whole way home. And I have a life too—why should I have to go with him?
“Julia!” Dad barks, and now people around us are looking, which I’m sure Dad will blame me for later.
“Fine.” I throw the meatball truck keys at Trey’s face, grab my backpack and coat, trying to shove my arm through the hole but my stupid cast keeps catching on it. When I give up and move around the table, Dad tries to take my arm. I yank it away from him and run down the steps, leaving Dad following me and Trey and Sawyer standing there watching over the loft railing. I can’t even look at them because I don’t want them to see me cry.
••• We get into Dad’s car, and I’m immediately aware of how seldom I ride anywhere with him. I can probably count the number of times on my fingers. He hardly ever goes out, and when he does, my mom almost always drives.