“Yes, I am,” I said after he uttered her name. That explained his chipper mood. “She’s my sister.”
“I thought so,” he said with a sympathetic look. “I hope she feels better soon. I pulled your mother over on Dolington this morning; she seemed very worried.”
I faked a smile. “Thanks for your kindness and concern, Officer.”
One speeding ticket and another “get well soon” later, I merged onto I-95 South.Here we go,I thought, cranking up some music.Here we finally,finallygo…
Chapter 22
Everett
Pat’s King of Steaks?
Or Geno’s Steaks?
That was the question, theultimatequestion. Dad had maintained that Philly cheesesteaks were an incredibly important part of life, so he’d taken the three of us—plus James—to so many different restaurants. From Chubby’s Steaks to Oh Brother Philly to Jim’s South St., we’d been all over the place.
But we’d never gone to Pat’s or Geno’s, two tourist traps with an intense and long-standing rivalry. Despite what Margot would call Grace’s and my “clandestine tryst” back at the art museum and our near fancy-meeting-you-here disaster with Mr.Cruz, Grace had planned a pretty fun day so far; I was surprised how much I was enjoying myself.
But today a tourist trap sounded like the way to go. I didn’twant to walk into Joe’s Steaks + Soda Shop and instantly zoom in on the table Dad and I’d sat at the last time we’d eaten there together. It had been after a radiation session at Penn. Dad’s driver’s license had been revoked after his seizures, so Mom had asked me to take him; she couldn’t miss Abigail’s parent-teacher conference. “It’s going to be okay,” he said as I chewed but didn’t taste my sandwich. I noticed he hadn’t said “I’mgoing to be okay.”
I’d stopped eating to wipe tears from my eyes. Mr.Barbour had pulled all the strings and called in all the favors he had to get Dad into a cutting-edge, promising trial; he couldn’t give up hope yet.
Dad reached across the table to take my hand. “Let it out, Ev,” he whispered. “The ‘boys don’t cry’ mentality is bullshit.”
“You can’t go anywhere,” I told him, my throat tightening. “You can’t leave us.”
He’d given me this wry look. “Who said anything about leaving?”
And then he squeezed my hand.
“Geno’s,” our Uber driver emphasized, pointing to the right. “I’m telling you, go toGeno’s.”
I pointed to the left. “But according to Yelp, most people say Pat’s.”
The guy shook his head but wished us a nice day. Grace,Isa, and I stood on the pedestrian crosswalk for a moment, looking both ways before choosing a side. The funniest thing about the Pat’s vs. Geno’s battle was that they were across the street from each other. Literally, the contenders had been built in a brick-and-mortar standoff with gigantic neon lighted signs. Pat’s summoned us with a bright gold crown, while Geno’s electric orange flames roared.
“Everett,” Isa said. “Which one would you prefer?”
“Pat’s.” I half smiled, knowing where this was going. Isa and I’d once loved a good taste test. “I’ll take Pat’s.”
“Great, I’ll do Geno’s.” Her voice was all business. “What’s your order?”
“Let’s confer while we’re in line.” I matched her tone, as I had so many times back in the day. Were we teasing each other now? Or were we acting? “Call me.”
Isa nodded and stuck out her hand, and I took it and shook it. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Grace grin and shift her weight from one foot to the other, as if trying to hold back a happy dance. Because this—thiswas what I knew she so wanted. This day, above all, was meant to repair Isa’s and my friendship. She wanted us to graduate high school and walk into forever as a trio again.
Even though, after our handshake, Isa and I each took one of her arms and tugged. Grace hadn’t taken a step in either direction yet, undecided. “Stop!” she giggled. “You’ll tear me in half!”
A few beats later, she gave me a small smile before shakingme off and linking arms with Isa. I understood. Mr.Cruz was having an affair, one that neither Grace nor Isa ever saw coming. She wanted to be there if Isa wanted to talk.
I couldn’t help but wonder if she also thought putting some space between the two of us was best.It was ninth grade,part of me wanted to say.Haven’t we grown up enough to move pastthis?
“I swear I won’t start planning the wedding,” I remembered Mom casually saying once. “But you and Grace are so sweet together…and I know you. Why don’t you ask her out?”
I know you.
Mara Adler code for: “It’s so screaming obvious you’re in love with her.”
