Ford lets out a humorless laugh. “Forget my old man and just go to your house.”
“What will happen if you do that?”
“He’ll blow up my phone until I answer. Come on, let’s go inside.” Ford gets out of the car, comes around to help me, and then grabs his football gear. When we open the door, we can hear arguing from the kitchen.
“He’s out of control, Lily, and he needs to be checked.” Ford’s dad yells.
“And that’s living with you?” his mom screams back.
“Yes!”
“Upstairs,” Ford whispers, leading me up to his room. He shuts his door, muffling his parent’s fight. “I’m going to hurry and shower.”
“Okay.” I tug on his arm, pulling him to me and giving him a quick kiss. I sit on the bed with my feet under me and pull his copy ofGreat Expectationsoff the nightstand. He has a highlighter, and a pen stuck inside the book. I write messages and little notes in the margins and black spaces and highlight some of my favorite passages.
The door bangs open, and Ford’s dad, Mitch, yells, “Ford, where the hell are you?”
My eyes widen with a mixture of surprise and fear, and I point to the bathroom door.
“Who are you?” Mr. Cross bristles.
“I’m Hannah.”
“Hannah, who?”
“Hannah Clark.”
“Hannah Clark,” he mutters to himself. “Who’s your dad?”
“My dad is James Clark. He’s a lawyer at Clark, Simpson, and Smith. I’m Jack Fitzgerald’s stepsister.”
“How old are you?”
“I’m seventeen.” Jeez, is he going to ask for my social security number next, or maybe my blood type?
The shower shuts off, and Mr. Cross leans against the door frame to wait.
Great. He’s not leaving. This could get ugly.
It takes Ford a couple more minutes before he comes out of the bathroom in a pair of joggers and a t-shirt. He glances at his dad but doesn’t say anything to him. Ford pulls open a dresser draw, takes out a pair of socks then sits on the bed to put them on. “Hey, Dad.” Ford glances at him but doesn’t keep eye contact.
“I was hoping we could talk about the game,” Mr. Cross says, still leaning against the door frame.
“I thought it was a great game. We won.” Ford stands and retrieves his sneakers from the closet.
“You had some mistakes.”
He did? I didn’t get to watch every play, but I thought he did great. He made the winning touchdown.
“Yeah, I know. Can we talk about this later? I have plans with Hannah tonight.”
“Fine. I’ll come by the house on Sunday. Libby will be here. Your mom wants to have a family meeting. We’ll talk about the game and college after that.”
I notice ford’s jaw tense. “Yeah, okay.”
His dad turns to leave but then stops, turning back around. “No drinking tonight.”
“Yes, sir.” Ford nods to his dad. Mr. Cross glances from me to Ford and looks like he has more to say but doesn’t, and heads back downstairs.
