the back. Somewhere along the line, he lost his shit and broke down crying, and they ended up spending the rest of the night just talking. They’ve been seeing each other ever since. Monica moved in nearly a year ago, so it seems pretty serious. From what I can tell, she loves that he sees her as more than what she does for a living, and she has a soft spot for men she thinks she can save. I’m hoping she can.
The opposing team strikes out, and the crowd goes bananas. The TV switches to a commercial and a newscaster saying, “Coming up on the news at eleven, sparklers lead to a fire in a local neighborhood igniting controversy: prank or arson?”
I try to act casual as they flash live video of Amanda’s charred front yard. Must be a slow night for them to pick up the story that quickly. I swallow hard.
Dad stares at the TV and shakes his head. “Jesus, what goddamn moron would do something like that? Sparklers on a lawn?”
This moron. “Crazy.”
“At least it sounds like nobody got hurt.” He belches and wipes his mouth with the edge of his fist.
“Well, that’s what matters, right?” And then I do that thing I do when I’m nervous or trying to cover something up but hope that nobody will notice. I get total diarrhea of the mouth. “Who knows why anyone does anything really. Maybe the person had a reason. Someone doesn’t just light sparklers on a lawn for no reason, right?”
The game comes back on and instantly he’s gone, his attention riveted like a dog’s to a squirrel. Someone hits a homer out of the park on his first at bat and Dad is up out of his seat cheering, so I make my exit.
I sprint up the stairs and pass the bathroom door, which is cracked open precisely enough for me to make out a sliver of Monica’s pale-white skin as she wraps herself in a terrycloth towel. My hand is reaching for my bedroom doorknob when suddenly the bathroom door opens. She smiles as if I’ve been lurking.
Which I haven’t.
I mean, it was only for like a second.
She runs her fingers through her long, brown, wet-from-the-shower hair. Her skin glistens with moisture.
“Oh, hey, Hank,” she says. I try to act like it’s completely normal to stand in the hallway chatting up my dad’s girlfriend who is only wearing a towel.
“Oh, hi. I…um…have to study for a test.” I readjust my backpack strap. “Gotta maintain that GPA.”
She fiddles with the edge of her towel. “Hey, what’d the girl say?”
“What girl?”
“The other night you told me you were goin’ to ask some girl to prom this week. How’d that go? Did she say yes?”
Shit. Fuck. Shit.
My mouth hangs open for a second as I regroup and collect my thoughts. Monica had asked me if I was going to prom while I was cleaning up after dinner. Fortunately, I hadn’t told her any details, only that I had someone in mind to ask.
“Uh, it went fine, I guess.”
“Fine? So she said yes?” Her face lights up like she is genuinely happy for me.
“Um, not exactly. I’m not really sure.” Her towel slips a little, but I pretend not to notice.
“How can you not be sure? You either asked her or you didn’t. Did she say she had to think about it? Because any girl who says she has to think about it is probably waitin’ for some other guy to ask her, and you’ve become her backup plan while she buys some time.”
I nod, perhaps a little too vigorously. “Right. You are so right. Great advice. I will definitely keep that in mind.”
“Never settle, Hank. You’re a great guy. And you’re adorable. Any girl would be lucky to go with you.”
“Adorable” is a word that I generally reserve for teddy bears and kittens, but I’ll take it. The smell of soap and Suave Ocean Breeze shampoo hits my nose as she pulls me close for a hug, and I start to feel awkward. Now I really have to get in my room fast, or else this could get highly embarrassing. So I pull away and hurriedly push open my door, shouting, “Thanks! See ya!” and give her a thumbs-up as I swing it closed.
Holy Mother of God.
Once I’m in, I throw my backpack on the bed and tear it open, pulling out the empty sparkler boxes. I’ve got to hide them somewhere until Thursday, which is trash pickup,