“You haven’ t even tasted it,” Quinn said snidely . Okay. So much for polite. But, then, Quinn was fourteen, a freshman, and a Crestie. I was sure she’d been programmed to hate me by the behavior of, the gossip from, and the general vibe coming off my former friends—older , influential Cresties whom she no doubt worshipped. Also, I had to cut her some slack. She’d lost her mom to cancer a few years ago, while mine was alive and well and awesome. “No, I did. I liked it,” I protested. I took a bite and almost gagged. Way too much garlic. Somehow I managed to swallow , then took a huge gulp of soda. “She did. I saw her,” David chimed in. “Didn’t you guys hear all the yums and mmms ?” I shot him a silencing look. That was a little much. “It’s okay,” Gray said, smiling at me. “They’re not for everyone.” I swear I saw my reflection in those teeth. I forced myself to smile back, remembering that I wanted my mother to be happy and that this doctor man seemed to make her just that. Even if he did have floppy hair that was about twenty years too young for him and was wearing a trendy V-necked T-shirt that exposed his curly gray-and-black chest hair . I mean, really , what did the two of them have in common? Other than the crest, I mean. Was it possible that my mother was dating him solely because he lived up there? Because she thought it would help her get back in with her so-called friends? I liked to think my mother was better than that, but reclaiming her old life —however much of it she could reclaim—was still so importan t to her, just like it had been to me when we’d first moved back here. I guess it was possible that she was unconsciously using this guy to get what she wanted. It would definitely explain her spending so much time with a person who was the polar opposite of my father. It was kind of d epressin g, actually . Back when my parents were together , I had always been so proud of her ind ependence. She was the only Crestie mother who worked—she was the librarian at the middle school—and she was always doing her own thing. Able to go to parties without my dad when he had to work late and not be all self-consciou s about it. Always telling my friends how fulfilling it was to have her own career, knowing their moms expected them to be ladies who lunched and spa-dayed, just like them. But now she was looking at Gray with an almost imperc eptible desperation in her eyes. Like he was
somehow going to save her. From what? I knew we weren’t rich anymore, but she had a new and awesome job, and we were doing okay. So, what did we need him for? “So, Ally, I hear you’re a basketball superstar ,” Gray said, sitting back in his chair and taking a sip of his white wine. My heart skipped, and I glanced automatically at my mom. So, they’d been talking about me? She shrugged, like, what do you expect? I felt suddenly hot and glanced at the door . “I used to play a bit myself,” Gray continued. “Could never get Quinn here interested in it, though.” I felt like I was supposed to say something, but I couldn’ t think of what. “I like basketball,” Quinn said. “I cheer for basketball, don’ t I?” “That you do,” her father said, giving her a fond smile. A cheerleader . Shocker . “Were you on the team back in Baltimore, Ally?” Gray asked me. “Y ep,” I r eplied. There was an odd, uncomfortabl e feeling rising up inside my chest, and it wasn’t from that one bite of stuf fed p epper . “They won the regional championship,” my mother put in proudly . “Ally scored twenty points.” “Wow. I didn’t know that,” David said, his mouth still full of his second helping. “That’ s awesome.” “Absolutely awesome,” Gray added. He was trying too hard. Which made me like him even less. “W e should shoot around sometime.” My heart was pounding like I’d just run a five-minute mile. For some reason, the room was swimming. I really didn’t want to talk about this anymore. And I really didn’ t want to shoot around with him. “So, are you a forward?” “Y ep,” I said. I pushed back from the table. “Who wants dessert?” “There’ s apple pie in the fridge,” my mother said. “But we should clear the table first. . . .” “I got it.” I stood up and gathered as many plates as I could, clanging them together noisily and dropping a fork on the floor, where it bounced under the table. “I’ll help,” David of fered. Even though there was still food on his plate, he grabbed a few glasses and followed me over to the open kitchen area. I set the plates down with a
crash and took a de ep breath. David turned the water on in the sink full blast and whispered over it. “Are you okay?” he asked. “M’fine.” I rinsed of f a plate, my hands still shaking. “No, you’re not. Y ou’re st ep-freaked,” David said. “St ep-freaked?” I r epeated. “It’s the particular brand of freaked you get when encountering a potential st epdad,” he whispered, wiping of f a dish with a purple sponge. “Gray is not a potential st epdad,” I said through my teeth. “Every dude they bring home is a potential st epdad. That’s why you get so st ep-freaked. Believe me, I know. My mom one time brought home this guy from Chadwick’ s Pub with forearms wider than my head. I looked exactly like you do right now .” “Your parents are divorced?” I asked. Even though we’d been hanging out for the past few months, we did it mostly at school or at Annie’s house, and I realized now that David didn’t talk much about his family. Maybe this was why . He nodded as he scraped the contents of a dish into the garbage. “Yeah. They were high school sweethearts, so my mom never dated anyone else. She’s spent the past two years making up for lost time.” “Wow. That sucks. I’m sorry ,” I said. David shrugged and straightened up. “It’ s no big deal.” But it was. It was a big deal. As David k ept cleaning up, I felt as if the walls were crowding in around me. He clearly had it much worse than I did, and he talked about it like it was nothing. Like it was a normal part of life. Was that how I was going to be talking about my mom’s men in a couple of years? The thought made my stomach turn. “So? What do you think of Gray?” my mother asked, coming up behind me and placing her hands on my shoulders. “He’ s nice, isn’ t he?” I couldn’t respond. Couldn’ t talk at all. The lump in my throat was too large. “He’s great. Not to mention a culinary genius,” David r eplied brightly , coming to my rescue. He tugged on a pair of pink dish-washing gloves and snapped the cuffs. My mother and I both stared at him. David paled slightly . “In fact, I think I’ll go ask him for that p epper recipe,” he said, getting the hint and moseying of f.
“You like him, right?” my mother whispered. “I hope you do, because I think we’re going to be seeing a lot more of him. He even invited us to the holiday Sunday dinner next month.” My eyes instantly prickled over with memories. Sunday dinners. They were an old tradition that normally included just the six families—us, the Applebys, the Moores, the Kirkpatricks, the Rosses, and the Steins. But at Christmas, the dinner was usually held at Chloe’s house, and the rest of the crest families were invited. Finding an in to this particular soiree must have been a dream come true for my mom—a chance to finally get back in with her friends. Didn’t she realize that if they hadn’t tried to hang out with her by now, there must have been a reason? If my friends couldn’ t be around me because of what my dad had done, their parents were probably ten times as pissed of f. “Are you sure you want to go?” I asked, trying to ke ep my voice neutral. “I mean, we barely know those people anymore.” A flash of uncertainty passed through her eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it came. “Oh, hon, they’re my lifelong friends,” she said, giving me a squeeze. “They may be angry now, but they know I didn’t have anything to do with what happened. Once we’re all together again, they’ll realize how silly they’ve been.” Yeah, right. Just like my friends have. “Okay,” I said, my voice thick. “Besides, Gray invited me, and I don’t want to let him down,” she said, smiling across the room at him. “I really like him, Ally .” I took a de ep breath and silently recited as many NBA basketball teams as I could think of to calm my racing thoughts. My insides felt all hot and gooey. Between thinking about my dad, about Gray, about my possible future as the daughter of either a serial dater or of Gray’s second wife, and about Sunday dinner—which Jake Graydon would most definitely be attending—I was completely overwhelmed. “That’s great, Mom,” I said finally “I’m really happy for you.” I just wished that I meant it.
“Dude, so what are we doing tonight?” Todd asked, turning the sugar canister upside down over his large coffee at Jump, Java, and Wail! on Friday night. “I thought we were going into the city,” I said, reaching past him for a napkin. “Yeah, but what’re we gonna do in the city?” T revor asked. “I say we hit Rock Center and trip as many people on the ice as we can,” Todd said. “The line to get on the ice is, like, three hours,” Hammond said, leaning back against the wall and taking a sip of his drink. “Your balls’ll freeze right of f.” Trevor covered his balls with both hands and pulled a face. “All right. Not doing that.” “Dude. Ally R yan.” T odd nodded toward the front of the shop. My stomach dropped and we all turned to look out the plate glass window . Ally was across the street, outside Scoops Ice Cream, with David Drake. He was trying to attack her with his ice cream cone. She screeched and ran. “Dork,” Hammond said, earning a laugh from the Idiot T wins. Slowly, not taking our eyes off them, we all walked over to the counter at the window. In the corner, some dude with a beard played acoustic tunes on his guitar. A couple of older people sat in chairs nearby, swaying to the music. “Dude, is it just me, or did Ally R yan get hot?” T revor asked. “She was always hot,” Hammond r eplied, taking a sip of his coffee as he stared. I glanced at him, but he didn’t follow with an insult. Which he totally would have done if Chloe, Shannen, or Faith had been there. I wondered if Chloe really did know where Ally’s father was. And would Ally want to know, if she could?