Page 12

Why not just put one of those GPS chips in my neck like a dog from the shelter? “I know. I’m sorry…I, uh, forgot.” That, and running from the cops kinda got me all distracted. Not to mention running into the plague of my adolescence…

“You two getting ready for bed?” He leaned against the door frame.

“We’re getting there,” I said.

“You didn’t drink at the party, did you?”

“No,” we both blurted.

“Good.” He waved his toothbrush at us. “You never know what people ‘accidentally’ drop into drinks. I watched a documentary about it once.” He stepped into the room and sat in my desk chair. “It was part of a series on PBS about the realities of social cultures and norms. Remember when we used to watch PBS on Sunday nights, Eliza?”

Yep. Back when you and I actually had stuff in common. “Dad.” I rubbed my temples. “We’re tired.”

“Oh. Right.” He stood up and glanced around like he had forgotten something before moving toward the door. “You’ve got an early morning, anyway. I need you to help Mom get the stadium ready—”

“But we were at the stadium all day today.” I grabbed a handful of gummy bears out of Lauryn’s stash in her duffle. “Banners are hung up for the new season. Locker rooms are ready to go. The concession stand is stocked.”

“That stadium needs to be pristine. The Fultons have a Family Day set up at the B Field to raise money for their team in a couple days, and I want our field to be a thousand times better than theirs.”

I coughed, almost choking on one of the green ones. “They’re on the B Field?”

“Yeah.”

“The sandlot?”

He nodded.

“Dad, that field sucks.” I laughed. “Ours already looks a million times better.”

“She’s totally right, Pops.” Lauryn grabbed the remaining gummies out of my hand and shoved them into her mouth matter-of-factly.

Lauryn had been calling my dad Pops for forever. When she lost her dad in a freak accident years ago, Dad swooped in and picked her up as if she were a baby bird who fell from her nest. Dad was known for doing that kind of thing—reaching out to others and bringing them in.

He did that with my brother’s boyfriend.

With TJ.

I used to think he got that trait from Grandma, but she’d never be as reckless as he apparently had been lately.

“Dad.” I rubbed my hands together. “Why’d you put the stadium up for grabs this summer? Isn’t that a bit…risky?”

“TJ told you, eh?” Dad moved his glasses into the front pocket of his shirt.

“It should’ve come from you,” I said, moving toward him. “What if we lose? The hardware store has been down in sales for years, and Mom said Grandpa’s money is almost gone—”

“Easy, kiddo.” Dad held up his hand. “Small businesses everywhere are down right now, and most of Grandpa’s money is safe and sound in the bank.”

“I thought most of it was drawn out in cash when you took the stadium.”

Lauryn coughed.

The cat clock ticked five times.

Dad cleared his throat. “We didn’t take the stadium. We bought it, fair and square, and we’re not going to lose it this summer.”

“But the Fultons have Reed pitching. Isn’t he supposed to be pretty good?” Crap. Did I just compliment a Fulton out loud?

Dad’s mouth morphed into a tight, thin line. His nose crinkled, and his face paled. “Who told you that?”