knowing how hard Connor had worked setting it up, how much thought and money Simon had put into the gift. She hoped her voice didn’t betray how she honestly felt—trapped.
CHAPTER 28
Monday couldn’t come fast enough. All I could think about was my father and his promise to chat online at noon. Ben skipped lunch to be with me in the library, but it was his idea, not mine. We both shared the same concern: that it wouldn’t be my dad on the other end of the app; that it was someone pretending to be him, someone who knew about Tracy Nuts and maybe got lucky guessing his goodnight ritual, because, to Ben’s point, parents say stuff like that. Together, Ben and I came up with five questions only my father would know the answers to—five questions that would prove he was alive, he had reached out to me, and he trusted me, and me alone, with his secret.
“Are you ready?” Ben asked.
I checked the time: almost noon. I’d thought about this moment every second of the day. And it felt like every second mattered, too, because judging by the way Mom gushed at dinner about the new fitness equipment Simon bought her, it won’t be long before I completely lose her to him. Whatever. When she finds out Dad’s alive, when he comes home, then Simon will have to be gone, and this will be something for me to talk to my therapist about.
“Ready,” I said to Ben, as I looked over the questions I’d written and rewritten at least a dozen times, searching for the right ones that would leave no doubt.
“What if it’s him?” Ben asked. “Are you going to tell anybody?”
By “anybody” I knew he was talking about my mom.
“Not if he doesn’t want me to,” I said.
“Are you sure?”
“What if he vanishes again? There’s got to be a reason he doesn’t want my mom and Connor to know.”
“Yeah, like the police,” Ben said.
“I’m not going to break his trust again,” I said. “I told you, I feel guilty enough about that.”
Ben did not look convinced that keeping this secret was a good idea. Then again, it’s easy to judge other people’s choices. He didn’t lose his dad for almost two years. He wasn’t living with Simon. My throat dried up as hot tears flooded my eyes.
Ben touched my shoulder gently. “It’s okay,” he said. “Give it some time. He won’t forget to call.”
I don’t know how Ben knew exactly what to say, but he did. I’d read somewhere that kids with Asperger’s had a hard time reading people’s emotions, but Ben could read mine just fine. Maybe the label was wrong, or maybe he and I had a special connection. Either way, now wasn’t the time to figure that out, because my phone buzzed. It felt like lightning had hit my body. I tensed, then relaxed. I checked the display. It was a Talkie message from Tracy Nuts.
It read:
Hi sweetie.
My breath caught, and those tears returned, but this time they were tears of joy. I knew it in my heart, my soul, my gut—every bit of me knew with a hundred percent certainty (no, make it a thousand, a million percent) that I was chatting with my father.
Hi Daddy.
My hands shook so badly I could barely type the words.
I miss you, Bunny.
And there was one of my questions answered already, no prodding necessary on my part: What do you sometimes call me? What other nickname do you have for me besides Tracy Nuts? And the answer, since I was a little girl, was Bunny, even though I hated it and had wanted him to call me something cooler, like Bear, but he kept forgetting and called me Bunny instead. Those tears in my eyes rolled down my cheeks, and Ben, usually so in sync with me, suddenly looked really uncomfortable. I typed:
Where are you?
I’m not anywhere close. Can’t tell you where I am.
Why not???
My three question marks could have been four hundred.
There are reasons. Reasons for everything.
Please tell me.
I can’t. I’m sorry.
Why? I don’t understand.
You will. In time. You’re the only one I can trust, Maggie.
Now I felt even worse about telling Ben, but I had some trust issues of my own to get over. I was sure, so sure, this was my dad, but my remaining four questions would be the final proof.
I typed, imagining what a puddle I’d be if I heard his voice:
Can you call me?
Not today.
Dad, I have to make sure it’s