Page 43 of The Curve
I get a sly grin for an answer.
“Oh really? Which one?”
“What? I didn’t say anything about anybody.”
But she knows that I know. I’m just hoping I’m wrong about which boy. Holding back a telling smile, she presses her lips together just like her mother does.
“I think that Jeffrey guy’s cute. He’s nice. He practically talked about you the whole time we were at the table. I could tell he was impressed that I knew you.”
“Hmmm.”
“What? Don’t you like him?”
She’s innocent. It could hurt her.
“I just met him today. But I didn’t like how he talked to his parents,” I say.
She stays quiet for a few beats.
“Do I sound like an old fart?”
I get a giggle for my effort. “A little.”
“Well, it’s only because I’m looking out for you.”
“Thanks, but I can look out for myself. Anyway, we were just talking.”
Her face turns toward the window. I take the hint and change the subject. “Did you talk with Paige about us doing something for your birthday?”
“A little. I don’t know, maybe we just want to do something by ourselves.”
She’s looking away when she says it, but I don’t want her to think I’m insulted. I would have done the same thing when I turned fourteen. In fact, I probably did. Who needs the adults hanging around?
“Sure. Whatever you guys want. I want to buy you a gift you’d really like. Is there somewhere you’re thinking about going? I mean, I don’t know where kids your age hang out. Fill me in.”
Now I’ve got her attention. Turning toward me, she becomes animated. “Well actually, we were talking about having a party.”
“You and Paige?”
“Kinda.”
In kid-speak, “kinda” means not really. I know because I was the master of deception when I was a teenager.
“Now, tell me the real plans,” I say laughing.
She chuckles. “Maybe Jeffrey’s gonna throw a party for me. He’s got lots of friends.”
I’m not sure how to react, what my response should be. But I know there’s about ten reasons this is a bad idea.
“You’d have to talk that over with your mom. I mean, you don’t really know this guy very well. Will there be parents there?”
I can’t tell her I smell ulterior motives and they involve me.
“But you can help me plead my case. You know his family,” she says innocently.
“No, I don’t. I’m doing a business deal with his father. They could all be serial killers. And besides, how old is he? And are you allowed to date?”
A long sigh escapes her lips and her frustration along with it. “Never mind. I’ll do my own talking.”
