The Unexpected Everything - Morgan Matson Page 0,92

was okay.”

My dad looked at me evenly, his eyes narrowed slightly, like he was trying to see if I was telling the truth. After a moment he must have decided I was, because he nodded slightly. “Okay,” he said.

“Okay?” I’d expected a lot worse. I’d expected him to grill Clark and me for details, trying to find discrepancies in our stories, the way he had when he was a lawyer. And the truth was, something had happened last night—nothing that I was even sure I’d be able to articulate to him, but something nonetheless.

“I believe you.” I’d just started to relax when he went on. “But your grounding just got extended. It’s ten days now.”

Remembering our earlier conversation and hoping I’d get points for trying, I ventured, “Eight?”

“Know when to fold ’em, kid.” My dad shook his head and started to head back to the kitchen. “You can walk him to his car.”

“Uh,” Clark said. “That’s great, except my car is outside that gate thing.”

“Why?” my dad asked, sounding baffled.

“Well, there was nobody inside the gatehouse,” Clark explained. “There was a note saying they’d be back in five. So I just parked outside and walked. I didn’t want to be late.” He gave me a tiny smile, and I felt the forgetting-our-date guilt hit me once again.

My dad shook his head. “Andie, remind me to have a conversation with the Neighborhood Council about what passes for security around here.”

I nodded quickly. “Totally. So . . . can I still walk Clark to his car?”

My dad looked between me and Clark for what felt like an eternity before he finally nodded. “Fine,” he said. He raised his eyebrows at me. “No driving anywhere. And be back before seven a.m. this time.”

“Fine,” I said grudgingly, and then a second later, added, “I mean, thanks.” My dad nodded, then walked into the kitchen again, tapping his watch as he went.

• • •

I looked over at Clark as we crossed from the driveway onto the road. It was a long summer twilight, like the sun was fighting to stay around as long as possible, even as it slowly, steadily, got darker.

“So,” Clark said, nodding toward the street we were approaching. It was the main street that wound through Stanwich Woods, the one that carried you past the gatehouse and around in a circle, until you returned to where you came from. “Want to show me around?”

I hesitated for just a second. It had seemed like my dad was giving me permission to stay out a bit longer, with his seven-a.m. comment. “Sure,” I said as we walked onto the main road, gesturing for him to follow me. “Though there’s not all that much to see.”

“Well, I doubt that,” Clark said, falling into step next to me. We were walking a little closer than I did with most people. I could have reached out and touched him easily, not even needing to extend my arm.

“Welcome to Stanwich Woods,” I said, doing my best imitation of Toby’s docent voice. “As you can see, actual woods were torn down to make it, but at least they acknowledged them with a nifty name.”

Clark turned to me, his eyebrows raised behind his glasses. “I guess you don’t like it here?”

I looked around as we took the curve in the path. To our left was a pond, complete with tiny, picturesque footbridge and weeping willow hanging over it. The streets were almost empty of cars, and in the houses we passed—all looking vaguely alike—I could see lights on in the windows and families sitting down to eat, people going about their evenings. The streets curved gently, and the wrought-iron streetlights arched over the road from either side, guaranteeing that when it was dark enough, the evening joggers and dog walkers would be able to see just fine. But you couldn’t see the stars here like you’d been able to at our farmhouse. “It’s fine,” I said after a moment of walking next to Clark in silence. Somehow, without even really being able to say how, I knew he’d wait until I was ready to answer him. And I didn’t feel the impatience coming off of him the way I sometimes did with Topher when I was taking too long to gather my thoughts. I could somehow tell that Clark would be happy to walk next to me in silence until I knew what I was going to say. “We used to live way out in backcountry,” I finally said, by