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The din of too loud conversation greeted us before we even reached the cafeteria. Once we crossed the threshold, scents of cleaning solvents, cheeseburgers, pizza, ketchup, burritos, and sweat combined into a rank stench that made my stomach turn. The feeling only lasted a few seconds, though, and by the time we’d passed the first table, I didn’t even notice it anymore.
I led Keith through the maze of bodies and tables to where my friends were sitting. Jake’s best friend Fi
“Hey, guys,” I said as I tossed my backpack into an empty chair across from Fi
“Hi,” Ally said, her eyes focused on the words in front of her. She’d been cast in the lead role of Roxy Hart in Westgate’s spring production of Chicago and was still working on memorizing her lines. She crunched into another stalk and turned a page.
“You’re looking good, Katz.”
Ally coughed, choking on her celery as she looked up. “Hi, Keith,” she managed after a quick drink from her water bottle. She closed her script and hurried to consolidate the stuff she had spread out on the table. “What’s going on? Are you slumming it today?”
“Something like that.” He slid into the seat beside her. “I swung by the garage on Saturday, but you weren’t there.”
“Yeah, Freddie told me.” She fiddled with the pages of her script and smiled. “I was there yesterday, though. He said you were asking about space to work on a rebuild?”
“Hopefully,” Keith said, “if I can get the car.” The two of them launched into a discussion about something beyond my comprehension, and I tuned them out.
Across from me, Fi
I tapped his laptop to get his attention. “Where’s the other half of the brain trust?”
“Getting food,” he said with a tilt of his head in the direction of the cafeteria line. He typed a few more keystrokes before he adjusted his wireframe glasses and looked up. “I heard you almost lost your phone.”
Stories had a strange way of veering far from the truth the more they circulated around Westgate’s halls. Fi
“What’s all of this?” I said. “Did you skip breakfast again?”
“You’re having a bad day,” he said, gri
“Thanks.” I grabbed a bottle of water and a large cup from the tray to help lighten the load. “You didn’t need to.”
“I know.” He flashed a toothy grin.
Something about his smile made my insides grow warm and my pulse quicken. I blinked a few times, and the feeling left as quickly as it came. I stepped aside for him to pass, and then followed him back to the table, wondering what was wrong with me.
Chapter Five
Dr. Griffin’s car was parked in front of the garage when I got home later that day. Our two-story cottage-style house was in one of Playa del Lago’s older neighborhoods, the kind of subdivision where all the houses had cookie-cutter floor plans and nearly identical landscaping. I was pretty sure everyone owned similar cars, too, and the black Lexus blocking my spot looked right at home among its brethren.
I didn’t mind my mother’s boyfriend. He was probably the only guy she’d dated that I liked, even if it was weird I knew him first as a therapist. I’d only had one session with him before I’d started seeing Dr. Brinkley, but it was still bizarre. I made it a point to be extra careful whenever I talked to him.
I dropped my backpack at the foot of the stairs and strode into the living room where he usually hung out whenever he came over. “Hey, Dr. Griffin,” I said as I entered.
He jumped to his feet when he saw me, and I smiled. Mom said stuff like that was a show of good ma
“Hi, Talia,” he said. “Your mom’s upstairs. How was school?”
I lifted my shoulder and let it drop again as I sat on the couch. Dr. Griffin was a master interrogator; I could never be sure how to respond to his questions. It was almost as though answering something as i
Probing questions aside, I was pretty comfortable with Dr. Griffin. Whenever I felt like talking, he was genuinely interested in what I had to say. I liked how he smiled a lot, and how his eyes crinkled when he laughed. But I especially liked how he made my mom laugh.
He rubbed his hands on his trousers and cleared his throat. “I’m glad you’re home,” he said. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”
My spine straightened as my senses went on high alert. Did Mom tell him about the phone? Was I going to have to endure a lecture from him, too? I decided it would be best to tell him my side of the story and worry about the psychoanalysis later.
“Look, Dr. Griffin,” I said, “it really wasn’t—”
“I’m thinking of asking your mom to marry me,” he blurted in a single breath.
That was unexpected. “What?”
“I talked to your grandparents, and they seem excited, but I still wanted to check with you first.”
“Oh.” I knew Mom really liked him; they’d been dating for about a year, so it wasn’t like they’d just met or anything. And she was happy, genuinely happy when he was around. But I was surprised Dr. Griffin asked my permission. I mean, my mom was a forty-something-year-old woman, and I was just a kid. What difference did it make what I thought?
He raised his eyebrows. “What do you think, Talia? Would you be okay with being my stepdaughter?”
“Yeah.” I nodded, slowly at first and again with more enthusiasm. “Yeah, I guess that would be cool.”
He exhaled. “Thank you.” His shoulders relaxed, as though relieved by my response, and I wondered what he would’ve done if I’d said “no.”
“And when you’re ready,” he said, “maybe you can start calling me ‘Rob.’”
I nodded even though the whole first-name thing weirded me out. I liked referring to him as Dr. Griffin. It kept an invisible wall between us. And it was easier than pretending we were friends.
The clack clack clack of my mom’s boots on the terrazzo floor a