Before I could answer them, Bossy answered for me.
“They’re dating,” Bossy chirped. “Dad’s trying to figure out how long they have to date before it’s acceptable to ask her to marry him, though.”
I watched Weaver’s lips kick up.
Eyes sparkling, he said, “I’m thinking it has to be three months. That way everyone knows that we’re a thing, and it doesn’t look like we jumped into anything drastically.”
The seniors all smiled.
“Dad and my mother did that,” Fray added in.
It was telling how she called her dad “dad” and her mom “mother.”
It also made me want to blurt out, “Maybe we should wait six months!”
“Let’s go, Fraya,” Mrs. Gatsby ordered.
“Actually, I have my own car today, remember? I was just coming over here to remind you,” Fray, who hated to be called Fraya since it was also her mother’s name, said. “I’ll see you at home. I’m going to stop by the public library until they close to get my school science project finished with these two.”
Mrs. Gatsby’s mouth pursed. “I forgot your father loaned you his car.”
Fray smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes.
“Be home by eight for dinner.”
“Actually, we’re having a team dinner tonight with the soccer team, remember?”
I could practically see Mrs. Gatsby’s eyes lighting with fire.
Her eyes turned to me as she said, “You won’t be there, I’m assuming.”
I shook my head. “This is a player-led team dinner. No coaches allowed.”
No coaches invited, more aptly put, but I wasn’t going to say that to her.
“Fine.” She turned away from me. “Fraya, I’ll see you at home. Curfew is eight-thirty.”
“Dad told me I could stay out until ten,” she said. “If I come home at eight-thirty, I won’t even get to eat dinner.”
“Nine.”
“Ten.” Fray shrugged. “I have to go pick up Dad from work, anyway, since I have his car. So don’t expect me home then, either. Dad has a work meeting.”
With that, Fray and the other two seniors walked off, leaving the three of us in an awkward silence as Mrs. Gatsby watched her walk away.
Sensing the weird tension in the air, Weaver caught my arm and guided us away from the clearly fuming woman.
“What a meanie,” Bossy whispered when we were far enough away.
“At least you only have to see her for the rest of this season,” I muttered. “I had to spend the last four years dealing with her since she was the head of the soccer booster club.”
“Are you too tired to drive home?” Weaver asked.
I shook my head. “Actually, I was going to stay at my place tonight.”
Weaver caught my arm and said, “Bossy, go wait in the truck.”
Bossy gave me a “god help you” look and kept walking, a smirk on her face.
