The Unexpected Everything (29 page)

“Oh, no,” my dad said, looking across the hood of the car at me. “You are so totally grounded. I thought you understood that. A month, at least.”

I started to protest, then bit my lip. This was really bad—that was most of the summer. But I also knew there was the chance he might increase it if I started complaining. “All right,” I said with a sigh. I looked over at my dad, who was shaking his head at me.

“Andie,” he said, sounding pained, “we
just
went over this. Am I supposed to negotiate with myself?”

“Right,” I said quickly, trying to regroup. “Um . . . two days.”

“Please,” my dad scoffed as he beeped open the car and got into the driver's seat.

“Four days?” I tried, getting into the passenger seat and buckling my seat belt.

“A week,” my dad countered, and I nodded.

“But I get to go to work,” I said, “and the grounding doesn't start at night until seven p.m.”

“Call it six and you've got a deal,” my dad said, starting the car. He glanced over at me. “I realize that things might have gotten a little lax with Joy,” he said, and I just nodded, deciding that he probably didn't need to know I'd been without a curfew for years now. “But that's going to have to change now.”

“There's a new sheriff in town?” I asked. My dad smiled, and it hit me how rarely I'd seen it—not my dad's candidate smile, but the one that was meant just for me.

“You got it,” he said. “And punctuality is going to be the coin of the realm.” My dad started to shift the car out of park, then put it back and looked over at me. “I don't want you to think . . . ,” he started, talking mostly to the steering wheel. “I miss her so much, you know,” he said, his voice wobbling. “Every day. Even now I'm always thinking about things I want to tell her. Stuff she'd find funny. I didn't even know what I was doing that first year. It was like someone had turned off the sun. The center of everything was suddenly gone.”

“Me too,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, but loud enough for just the two of us in the quiet of the car.

My dad looked over at me and gave me a small smile. I gave him one back, and we stayed that way for just a moment before he looked ahead, shifted the car out of park, and drove us home.

PALMER

Andie is all okay? Why was your dad at the diner?

Tom hasn't stopped talking about him,

which is really fun for me.

BRI

Your DAD showed up at the diner?! Wha?

PALMER

Is your car still there? WHAT'S GOING ON?!?

TOBY

ME

All okay! Long story. But will explain.

Oh, also, I'm grounded for a week.

PALMER

Wait, what?

BRI

What'd you do?

PALMER

But why is your car still at the diner?

BRI

Want me to hot-wire it?

ME

You know how to do that?

TOBY

BRI

I MIGHT be able to do it, Toby. You don't know.

I just need a screwdriver, right?

I've seen enough movies that I'm pretty sure I could figure it out.

ME

Um, figure it out on McQueen first

BRI

Can you video chat later? We need explanations

PALMER

Seconded

TOBY

ME

Yes, DEFINITELY. I'll text you guys soon.

I had just set my phone down on the kitchen counter when the doorbell rang. I smiled, wondering if it was Palmer. She'd sometimes drop by when she didn't think I was texting back fast enough. I was headed toward the foyer when I heard the door open on its squeaky hinges and realized my dad must have beaten me there.

“Andie?” my dad called, and I increased my pace, suddenly hoping that Bri hadn't gone ahead and tried to hot-wire my car.

“Is it Palmer?” I asked as I rounded the corner.

“Your—um—friend is here,” my dad called, and I stopped short. Clark was standing there, carrying a cellophane-wrapped bouquet of flowers and what looked like a CD.

“Hi,” I said, confused, trying to figure out what he was doing there, until it hit me all at once. We were supposed to have a date tonight. We were supposed to have a date
now
. With everything that had happened today, I had totally forgotten. “Oh,” I said, then stopped when I realized I had no idea what to say after that.

“It's nice to see you again, sir,” Clark said, holding out his hand to my dad, sounding nervous, talking much faster than he usually did. “I was just reading up on the education initiative you spearheaded last year. It sounded fascinating.”

My dad's eyebrows went up. “Were you really?”

“I surely was,” Clark said, and I could clearly tell how much preparation he'd done—which was making me feel even worse that I had forgotten our date.

“Well,” my dad said, raising an eyebrow at Clark. “That's impressive. We'll have to discuss it in depth sometime.”

Clark smiled, but I noticed he had turned a shade paler. I shot my dad a quick look, and he nodded. “I'll give you guys
a minute,” he said, heading back toward the kitchen—but not closing the door all the way, I noticed.

I looked at Clark, who was wearing another button-down shirt, green this time, and I could still see the comb tracks in his hair. I looked down at myself—I was wearing cutoffs and a T-shirt, nothing hugely offensive, but not what I would ever wear on a date. “So,” I said, taking a step nearer to him. As I did, I remembered this morning, the gentle way he'd brushed my hair back, how close together we'd been. I blinked and made myself focus on the present moment and how much I'd managed to mess it up. “Okay. Here's the thing. Today's been kind of crazy.”

Clark nodded, but his eyes traveled to my bare feet, and I saw his smile falter. He looked down at the flowers he was holding, and I saw some of the happiness in his expression fade, replaced by embarrassment. “Oh,” he said. “Did you not want to—”

“No,” I said immediately. “It's just . . .” I tried, very quickly, to think of the best way to spin this, then gave up and realized I should probably go with the truth. “It turns out I sort of didn't tell my dad I wasn't coming home last night.”

Clark's eyebrows flew up. “Uh-oh.”

“Yeah,” I said, glancing back toward the kitchen. “So I'm kind of grounded.” I was embarrassed even to say it. Even though he was only two years older than me, Clark was basically an adult—living on his own, with the freedom to do whatever he wanted. Nobody was grounding
him
or telling
him
what to do. This must have seemed beyond juvenile to him. “I'm really sorry about this.”

Clark shrugged. “It's fine,” he said, giving me a smile. “I mean, I'm disappointed, but I understand. We'll do it another
time. When you're not grounded. When will that be?”

I felt relief spread through me—until he'd said it, I hadn't realized how much I'd been preparing myself to hear him say something polite but vague, which I would have known meant we wouldn't be having another date. “A week,” I said with a shrug, like this was nothing. “Not so long.”

Clark glanced down at the flowers in his hand, then held them out to me. “These are for you. Sorry if it's totally cliché to bring them.”

I looked down into the bouquet, and it was a moment before I could answer him. “No,” I said. A guy had never brought me flowers before—unless it was my prom corsage, which I didn't think counted, since I'd had to order it myself and give explicit instructions for where and when to pick it up. These were beautiful—all purples and pinks and the occasional daisy. “I mean, it's . . . really nice.” I looked down into the flowers for one moment more, not wanting him to see just how touched I was by them.

“And,” Clark said, presenting the CD to me with a flourish. “This is more of a joke than anything else. You don't have to listen to it.”

“What is it?” I asked, taking it from him, then recognizing the familiar font on the cover. This one showed a crow and a flaming sword.
A Murder of Crows
, the title read.
By C. B. McCallister.

“I know you don't read,” Clark said, and I raised an eyebrow at him. “But I thought maybe you wouldn't have anything against
listening
. It's the audiobook, so it's like someone telling you a story.”

“Ha ha,” I said, turning it over and reading the back. I felt my eyes widen. “This takes nineteen
hours
?”

“Yeah,” Clark said, not seeming fazed by this. “And those
are just the first two discs. There's like twelve, but I didn't want to scare you.”

“Andie,” my dad called. I looked up from the CD to see him hovering in the doorway, clearly not sure what he should do—or what I wanted him to do.

“Clark came by to pick me up for a date,” I said, trying to get this over with quickly. “Because I didn't know I'd be grounded.”

“Ah,” my dad said, his eyes traveling down to the flowers in my hand.

“Sir, I just want you to know Andie was amazing last night,” Clark said, giving me a smile, as I felt myself freeze.

“Last night?” my dad asked. His voice was still totally calm, but this was the way he sounded in debates when he realized his opponent had just made a mistake.

“Right,” I said quickly, trying to jump in before this got any worse. “So here's the thing—”

“When Andie helped out with my dog who was sick,” Clark went on. It took all my willpower not to bury my head in my hands. “She was great.” He looked from me to my dad, finally seeming to get that something was going on. “Was that a secret?” he whispered to me.

“I didn't know you stayed the night at Clark's,” my dad said.

“I told you it was for work,” I said, realizing as I did that I should have probably just told him the truth right from the beginning, as opposed to hoping he would never find out.

“It was totally professional,” Clark said, jumping in. “Nothing else . . . I mean that wasn't at all what . . .”

“Nothing happened.” I looked down at my feet, not quite
able to believe that I was having to say this, to my dad, in front of Clark. “I just went over there to take care of the dog, and then we took shifts staying up to make sure he 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.”