It's eleven forty when I finally finish my homework and get ready for bed. That's one draw back about being on the basketball team. Even though I'm doing something for the school, I still have to keep up with my classes. The euphoria of knowing I'm going to be alone with Cassie on Saturday night has finally evened out. My stomach is empty of the butterflies.

When I close my eyes I can still see the light blue shirt and the surprised look on her gorgeous face when I asked her, no, told her we were going out. I think about what it will be like to kiss her at the end of the night. Something stirs in me and I roll over.

I'm no different than Boyd. I love how Cassie looks. I'd give my eye teeth to run my fingers through that glossy hair. Her body, that's the stuff dreams are made of, but it's not just about sex. It is so much more than that. I love her. It has got to be love. Why else would I risk everything just to be with her.

Seeing Cassie happy is my ultimate goal. I know I could make her happy, and Saturday night I will show her just that.

But there is a little voice in my head blaring out a warning. It keeps asking questions that I don't want to deal with.

"How are you going to get your dad's truck? You think he's just going to wave goodbye from the porch as you drive off into the sunset?" I guess its the voice of reason tossing these annoying roadblocks up.

The evil voice speaks up.

"Rory, you're a lot smarter than your old man. You'll figure something out. Just use your head."

The evil voice lulls me to sleep promising me that everything will work itself out.

"Go to sleep, Rory, you'll think of something. Cassie's worth it, ain't that right? What's a little lie?"

The evil voice is right. I'm not above lying, not for Cassie. I realize I'm not above a lot of things when it comes to Cassie.




I have this dream that my dad has a date. He comes into my room and he's dressed preppy like. He's wearing a red button down shirt and khakis. He looks better than I've ever seen him, but the really weird thing is he looks comfortable in this get up. I've only ever seen him in jeans or his blue work pants.

But getting back to the dream, I keep asking him who he has a date with. He just smiles at me and shakes his head. "You ought to know. You did all of this."

It's a weird dream, but when I wake up I know my evil voice was right. I did come up with a plan. All I need to do is get my dad a date.

Should be easy, right? Not really, because my dad is a strange guy. I will be hard pressed to find someone who can get past his gruff manner and his inability to handle small talk. It will have to be someone who knows him and likes him despite all this.

Two names come to mind: Kathleen and Charla.

Kathleen is immediately dismissed for all kinds of obvious reasons. But Charla, now I have always suspected she kind of loves my dad. Maybe he just needs a push in the right direction.

My evil voice whispers in my ear. "So, pick up the phone. Call her. She loves you. She'll do anything for the two of you."

I wait until I get home from school, and after Dad leaves for his night job. I lift the phone off the cradle and draw in two deep breaths before I dial. It rings twice before Charla answers the phone.

"Charla," I say.

"Hey, Rory. You need a ride somewhere?"

"No, I need to ask a favor."

I close my eyes, envisioning Cassie in her blue top. I picture her smiling, whispering to me, "Go on, Rory. Do it. Do it for us."

I start telling Charla all of it. Starting with the fire alarm stunt and even our talk in the boat the other night. I leave out the part about Dad wishing Granddad and Grandma Carolyn had died. That is one thing I don't ever want anyone to know about my dad.

"Your dad is a good guy. He loves you."

"I know. I just keep being afraid he'll start drinking again. All he does is work and come home."

She laughs on the other end. It is a soothing laugh. One that lets me know she has seen it all before. "He's always been like that."

I look around the kitchen. It has a sink, a small electric stove and a refrigerator. There are no extras. Dad has this aversion to knick knacks.

"Charla, he needs to get out. Maybe Saturday night you and he-," I stop as she starts to talk.

"Saturday night we could all go see a movie. Ya'll could come over here and have some homemade lasagna," she says, ready to rattle off a whole game plan.

"That sounds great, but he needs a break from me."

"He'll get over being mad, Rory."

I kick the baseboard impatiently. "Charla, please just come get him, take him out, fix him dinner. He needs you, Charla. We both need you."

She's silent on the other end and I can picture her mulling it over. I know she has feelings for Dad. She looks at Dad like I want Cassie to look at me.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, she sighs.

"I guess. What are you going to be doing while I kidnap your daddy?"

"Probably hanging out with a friend," I say. It's not a total lie.

"Does your daddy know you're calling me?"

"Oh, gawd, no. He'd get even madder. Just promise you'll come get him, make him forget everything going on lately."

"Rory, you're such a nice kid. Always looking out for everybody else."

I can't concentrate on anything else she says, 'cause that damned evil voice is laughing his ass off.