If Dad realizes he's supposed to be getting ready and getting the heck out of here, he's taking his sweet assed time about it. He invites Charla in, and they sit and talk about stuff nobody truly cares about. She tells him about a new patient, and he proceeds to describe how a saw blade snapped and nearly cut Dewey's arm off. Blah, blah, blah. Yes, it's lucky nobody got hurt. Just leave already.

I wonder if B.D. Cooper or Al Capone had this much trouble when planning their escapades. I'm not in their league, but lets be honest, I am planning a minor crime.

At seven-fifty they get up and Dad grabs his coat.

"Alright, Rory, stay out of trouble," Dad says. "Why don't you go check on your grandparents?"

"Why?"

"I don't know, Rory. Maybe 'cause you don't hardly see them anymore."

"Maybe. But no promises."

Charla stands up. She is just shy of his shoulder. She dresses pretty funky for a woman her age. She's wearing a tight black shirt that I can almost see through and some white pants that flair out like the ones the guy on the Cracker Jack box is wearing. Her hair is short and sleek black, like a tight little black cap, only she has some blue shimmering streaks throughout. In my opinion, she looks pretty sharp.

"You look really nice, Charla," I say, then nudge my dad. "Doesn't she?"

He shrugs. "She always looks good."

"But she looks especially good tonight."

Charla starts to laugh but covers her mouth with her hand.

"Let's go," she says and reaches for his hand.

"You call Charla's if you need anything."

"Hello. Almost sixteen, remember?"

Dad frowns ever so slightly. Like a detective who has just found a clue, he studies me for a second longer than need be. But he says nothing, just lets Charla lead him to the front door.

"See ya, Rory," Charla says and waves goodbye. "Have fun with your friend."

Dad reaches for his keys that are on the table beside the door.

"What do you need your keys for?"

"So I can get back in the house."

I snatch them out of his hand and lay them back down. "I'll still be up. I'll bet you're home by eleven o'clock, old man."

He smirks. "Yeah, well, just make sure you are still awake. I'll be mighty pissed if I have to bang on the front door for an hour."

They leave. I watch as her SUV disappears from sight and then I book it into the kitchen to call Cassie.

"I'm just about ready to come pick you up. You ready?"

"Are we still going to the party?" she asks.

"Yes, ma'am."

Her voice sounds decidedly more chipper when I tell her yes. "Good. I think a couple of my friends are going to be there."

I run back to my room and splash some aftershave on. I walk to the door, fighting the build-up of my nerves, and lift the keys off the table.

"This is it, Rory. You are about to go out with the girl of your dreams."

I hear that tiny voice of reason, the one that's tired of fighting me and the evil voice. "Careful what you wish for, Rory. You just may get more than you bargained for."




Even though I've been planning this for a long time, I'm nervous as hell. Never before have I ever done anything like this. I check the clock. At best, I have until eleven before my dad gets home.

Charla and he will shoot the shit, eat, maybe watch a movie, but knowing my dad, that's doubtful. I tried to let her know how important it was to keep him out of the house. Maybe she'll come through for me.

I climb up in to the cab and look around in disgust. There's saw dust everywhere. There's no time to clean it out, so I put the key in and the engine roars to life. I fasten my seat belt and without any more hesitation I slip the truck in to gear.

I get to the end of the driveway. Without warning a huge breath escapes me.

I try to relax as I drive, keep on telling myself how lucky I am. She's going to be sitting right next to me in just a couple of minutes.

I pull up in front of her house and go up the sidewalk and knock on the front door. She opens it, yells to her parents and then grabs my arm and hustles me away. I think I see a look of disappointment when she looks at the truck.

"Everything okay?" I ask.

"What?"

"You just made a face," I say.

She shakes her head and her beautiful hair flutters and glistens under the light at the end of her sidewalk. "Oh, I was just looking at your truck."

I look it over. I know it isn't beautiful, part of that is because of me, but it isn't horrible. It doesn't have to be beautiful, all it has to do is get us to the party.

"What's wrong with the truck?"

She flashes me a brilliant smile and reaches over to take my hand. "Nothing."

Her fingers feel warm. They seem to be the perfect fit as they slip in between mine. She leaves her hand wrapped up with mine until I merge onto the highway, then she pulls her fingers free.

"Rory, you won't mind if I go look for my friends, will you?"

"No, we can look for them," Things are going to be great when we finally get there. It will be so different from school. I try to visualize us, walking hand and hand, weaving through the mass of people. She'll loosen up, I'll loosen up...you can see where this is headed.

"Oh, no. You can go hang out with your friends and I'll hang out with mine."

"But this is a date. Right?"

Her eyes dart back and forth. "I guess I just thought we were going to the party together. That's all."

Even so, wouldn't that mean we could still hang out together? I stare at the windshield, wondering how I got the obvious message so screwed up.