Page 125 of My Debacle with De Lorenzo

“You’re the thief, a hardened criminal, and they let you stay at home,” she says with a teasing smile. “Are you still datingher?” She saysherwith a fair amount of hostility because she believes the prophecy more than I do, and after everything I’ve told her, she is convinced Bella is the one I was warned about.

“Yeah, we’re still together,” I reply with a chuckle. “Check this out.”

I show her our dance battle at the DMV on my phone, and when it’s over, she shakes her head and glares at me. “God, she’s adorable and you might see that as cute...and it is, but that’s exactly what the fortune-teller told you to resist. She said the Queen of Spades will show you exciting things. She’s going to break your heart, bro.”

“I’ve accepted that it’s my fate.”

Her face scrunches because she still isn’t happy about this. “I can’t believe you willingly made the Queen of Spades your girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend. We have...an arrangement, and I’m not sure how to label it, but she’s not my girlfriend. I’ve had girlfriends and they don’t even fit in the same league, so I can’t put the same label on her. Bella is...an adventure. She’s my light and my air and my anchor and so much more...but she’s not my girlfriend.”

Dana smiles as she stuffs another spoonful into her mouth. “I want to meet her.”

“And what will you say to her?” I ask, indulging in the conversation instead of telling her that that scenario is not going to happen for a long, long time.

“I’d say...I’d say: If you ever hurt my brother, I will...gouge your pretty little eyes out.”

I smile. “It’s cute thatyou’retrying to protectme.” And it speaks volumes about who she is as a person. She’s only fifteen. She’s been through so much, and yet she still tries to look out for me.

We talk about school as we finish our desserts, and she listens to my answers with such longing. She wants to know what it’s like to go to a normal school, have friends in her life who are consistent. As much as I dislike certain qualities of Scott and Peter, she always tells me to be grateful that they’re such good friends to me, sticking by me no matter what. She wants that, too.

My mom cuts our quality time short when she calls and tells us to come home for dinner. I walk with her back to my Jeep. As soon as she climbs in, I lock the door and only unlock it when I reach the driver’s door.

“You don’t have to lock me in the car,” she complains. “I told you I wouldn’t run.”

I don’t remind her of the real reason why I do that. We’re having a good time, and I don’t want to ruin it by bringing up the past.

“Don’t lock me up again.”

Sometimes we end up in a situation where her trauma battles with mine. I was selfish today and let mine take preference, so I reach over to squeeze her hand in apology. “I’m sorry. It was just for a second.”

My dad is already in the driveway when we get back home, and Dana doesn’t even wait for the car to come to a complete stop before she jumps out and runs to him.

“Daddy!”

He scoops her up, hugging her tight. If we give her enough time, we get greeted with hugs like that instead of flying lampshades.

“Oh, my sweet baby girl. It’s so good to have you home.” He sets her down on the floor again. “I bought you a new snow globe. Did you see?”

“Yeah, Philadelphia. I want New York next because that’s where you met mom.”

“Sure, I’ll get that one for you, too.”

Dana loves snow globes. She’s been collecting them since she was six. Her latest craze is trying to get all the major cities and my dad makes sure he buys her a new one every time she comes home. He doesn’t mention that he already bought her one with New York four months ago and she threw it at my mother in a fit of rage that same night.

My dad grabs my head to slap a kiss on my forehead before he puts his arm around her shoulder, and we walk inside. My mother already has dinner laid out on the table in the dining room. She’s made Alfredo, Dana’s favorite. We sit down to eat dinner as a family, and we keep the conversation light. Today, we even get a few laughs out of her. I take mental pictures of her smiling face. I enjoy moments like these so much because I get to see my sister again, the bubbly, fun-loving person she used to be.

“Remember when Dylan wanted to dye his hair orange because Fran had a crush on Ron Weasley?” Dana quips.

I snicker. “Now, why are we bringing this up? I was twelve.”

“God, you had it bad for her.” Mom shakes her head, trying to hold back a laugh. “You kept asking Connor how he got his hair to be so orange.”

“I didn’t understand how genetics worked back then.” I think about it for a second. “Actually, it still doesn’t make sense. How is he the only ginger in the family?”

Dad steps in to save me. “Dana, all I’m gonna say is Charlie Preston.”

I jump straight onto that bandwagon. “Yes! Charlie Preston. That guy used to smell like hamster pooallthe time. How many hamsters did he have? Like, twenty-six?”

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