Perfectly Dateless (17 page)

“I’m not offering you this car. All teenagers think their parents know nothing, but then they grow up and realize maybe their parents weren’t quite as ignorant as they thought.”

“Yeah, somehow I see it differently, and it’s not because I’m a teenager. Dad, look at this neighborhood!” We’re driving through a winding road where each mansion is bigger and more magnificent than the next. “You can’t tell me every person here should live just like us. It’s not realistic, Dad. People are different. Remember when we watched that
House Hunters
in the Czech Republic and every house was exactly the same because it was all built by communism? Is that what you want for me? To have the same and not strive for greatness? Is that what you think God wants from me? Mediocrity?”

“You have no idea the dysfunction that goes on behind beautiful doors. All that beauty does is mask what really happens.”

I could admit right now that Claire’s parents are splitting, but I don’t. “They have no idea the dysfunction that goes on behind our desperately-in-need-of-paint door! Nobody’s perfect, Dad. I don’t understand why you think Bible college is going to be safe. I could get run over by a garbage truck. I could get locked in a refrigerator as a harmless prank—”

“You could marry a fine preacher and have 2.7 children and a perfectly contented life.”

“I could, Dad. You just can’t make it happen. That’s all I’m saying.”

His cheek flinches.

“If I became a neuroscientist and found the cure to restoring brain function, would you see that as a failure?”

“God won’t measure you on your financial success or your career. You’ve put so much work into that job of yours, and for what? A rich kid who won’t appreciate a lick of it? You miss dinner every night for him?”

“Gil is a good boss, Dad. He’s really fair with me financially, and he wrote an excellent reference for my college applications.”

“He wrote it, or you wrote it for him?”

“What’s the difference?”

“Ahh!”

“Daddy.” I soften my voice. “What if we focused on prom in March and forgot about weddings and my career? What if we let me be seventeen?”

“What if we focus on getting you to adulthood? I’m hardly worried about your social life at this point. You obviously have plenty of friends.”

“Yeah, no doubt.” Is he kidding me? I have been thirty-five since I was twelve. If anyone needs to grow up, it’s the guy in the pirate suit beside me.

Prom Journal
112 Days until Prom
Fact: He said my name. Destiny’s Child would be proud.

He called me “my Daisy.” He might even have been willing to change the date of his travel. If my father didn’t have the worst timing alive, I’d know. I would have asked.

He could have meant “my Daisy” with a gentle pat to the head, but he could also have meant it with a fire in his eyes that Christian girls aren’t supposed to dream about. But realizing that he makes my heart pound puts so much more tension into the situation. That was the point of my prom journal. Not to be a perfectionist. To get one date who would look good in the picture. That’s what this was about. Not obsessing over a guy I’ve loved since kindergarten.

I have one entry on my prom list and 112 days left to bag him. God forgive me, I know “bag him” is not the best choice of words, but I’m getting desperate here!

1.
Wandering hands that are wandering nowhere near me, regardless.

2. Steve Crisco. My only alternative option, so I really have to step up the tutoring to twice a week if I want him to be presentable. Lord have mercy if he goes telling my parents his surfing-for-Jesus scheme. I will be in an all-girls’ college faster than you can say “solitary confinement,” and they still haven’t agreed to prom yet!

3.
Clearly has a thing for my BFF. Cannot break girl code for a date. It would taint the photo. Plus he’s a bit too pyro for me.

4.
Escaped my grasp to another school when his father got laid off. I wonder if he suspected?? Was a weight lifted from him?

5.
Sigh. I will never learn. Even with two lines through his name, I still want to scribble “Daisy Doogle.” But I can’t do that. If I have any expectations with Chase, my heart will only get broken. I can’t afford that.

12

Checks R Us has ramped up production. With the banking crisis, the factory is churning twenty-four hours a day to keep up with all the checks being printed with new bank names. Which would be a great thing if they didn’t keep up with an equal number of mistakes as well.

Between my duties on the phone and taking over accounts payable, life has become one giant spreadsheet. It keeps me from obsessing about my prom date (or lack thereof), Claire’s party (okay, mine too, if I’m honest)—which grows bigger by the minute—and if I’ll have enough to make ends meet for college.

That’s not completely true. Every night I look at the phone and imagine the conversation with Chase—where I tell him how I feel and he whispers sweet nothings in my ear.

On an up note, Gil bought me a company BlackBerry with unlimited texting. My work has paid off, though he didn’t let me get pink. He said when I was off to college, my replacement might be a guy. Whatever. Now if only I had someone to text, life would be even better. Claire officially has become an event planner. Sarika can’t text and Angie just wants to talk about math. Who knew my friends were so boring?

I power down the computer for the night. “I’m a loser,” I say to Lindy.

“Good, then you can close up. See you tomorrow.” She bolts for the door and doesn’t give me time to answer.

Gil steps out of his office and startles me.

“Gil, I didn’t know you were in here! I thought you were in the factory.” He has that bed-head look that he spends lots of time and product on, so I assume he was in his office primping for this woman who keeps calling.

“So you’re talking to yourself, is that what you’re saying?”

“I’m my own best company, you know.”

“Want a ride home? I’m going to get out of here early tonight. Now that I’ve given you the phone, you can call for help, so I figure it’s a safe offer.”

“Until we get to my dad.” I laugh. “I hope you’re heading to your girlfriend’s house because she’s driving Lindy crazy.”

“She’s not my girlfriend. She’s sort of
Fatal Attraction
meets
Bridget Jones
, and I can’t lose her. Got any ideas?”

“Nope, losing potential mates just comes natural to me.” I zip my backpack and toss it over my shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He stares at me and shakes his head. “Daisy, stop ignoring me. I asked if you wanted a ride home.”

“I’ll take the bus.”

“It’s dark out. I don’t want you taking the bus. Where’s your father?”

“He doesn’t like coming out at night once he’s settled in.”

“Daisy, how long have you worked here?”

“Fourteen months and three days.” I shrug. “It’s a math thing, don’t mind me.”

“Is it that you don’t trust me?” he asks.

“Not at all!” I force shock into my voice. “It’s that my parents are really particular about where I am and who I’m with, and I don’t want to answer their questions. You know, about the phone and my time here.” I laugh. “They seem to assume the worst of me.”

“We have that in common.” Gil slides through life with ease, and his effortless polish is unnerving. Gil would never entertain ideas of me, but it dawns on me that I’d be out of my league if he did. My breath quickens as I think of myself as that poor, desperate woman calling here all day. She’s not the first, and judging by Gil’s guiltless, handsome grin, she won’t be the last. “Call your father and tell him I’m bringing you home. That way he has the option of coming to get you. It’s not safe for you to ride that bus alone at night.” Gil frowns. “I’ll never understand your father. Instead of that useless purity ring, he should have bought you cab fare.”

I follow him out the door without calling my dad, and he locks up behind us. “Could you give me a ride to the bus stop? I’ll be fine from there. The bus lets out right in front of my house.” I’m wishing I’d just called Claire. There’s nothing worse than telling other people how controlled my life really is—at least Claire knows.

“I’ll drive you to the end of your street, all right? I’d feel better about that.” His smile is warm, and I’m humiliated by my previous darker thoughts.

“Yeah, that’d be great. I have a lot of homework, so the earlier I get home, the better.”

“Are you ever going to buy yourself a car? You’re earning a lot for a girl your age.”

“I’m saving my money for college. My dad doesn’t want to pay for where I want to go. By the time I paid insurance and the car payment, it wouldn’t be worth it.”

“I suppose if I lived like you, with more self-restraint, I’d be working for someone other than my father. You’re a smart girl, Daisy. By the way, you never said what your dad thought about the BlackBerry. Was he impressed you earned a company phone?” He rattles his keys. “You didn’t tell him, did you?”

I shrug.

“Still keeping secrets, are you? Daisy, I know I’ve told you how important it is to state your dreams and goals, or your father will be like mine and make those goals for you.” He looks back at the office. “I could have stayed in Boston. Could have gone to New York. Instead, I’m here with all the engineers and the women who love them.”

I laugh. “It’s not that bad. You don’t have to be lonely, Gil. You choose it.” Besides, if I could tell Gil the truth, that I’d kept Claire’s parents’ absence a secret all this time, that I’d kept my parents away from the mission of calling hers, he’d be proud. But I can’t tell him, of course. Because the party is a secret. Unless you are someone at St. James Academy and you’ve been invited by my illustrious best friend or me.

“You wait until you’re twenty-one and want to have a night life. You’ll see. Mark my words, if you don’t take control of your life now, you’re handing it over to your dad forever.”

“It’s not like you have to stay. Tell your father you’re going. Go get a job somewhere else.”

He nods under the streetlight and fingers a piece of hair down into place. “Tell me that in seven years. Tell me how easy it is then. You seem to think I don’t know what it’s like to have an overinvolved parent, but you’re seeing your future here. I’m stopped by some unseen force that probably isn’t even there, but it might as well be.” He bends over me and opens the door to his Porsche.