but Bram and I already know
what we want to order.
I must be hungry after all,
because the smell of burgers
sizzling on the grill and the sound
of fries crackling in vats of hot oil
make my mouth start to water.
Maybe it’s noticeable, because
Lily is staring at me.
Has anyone ever told you how
much you resemble your dad?
Dad nods. Trace got my Puerto
Rican good looks, that’s for sure.
Lily laughs, then asks,
And what about Will?
He looks more like his mother.
Handsome, but French descent.
I see, says Lily. But where is he?
I was hoping to meet him, too.
He never came home? asks Dad.
I Don’t Want to Lie
“Well—”
Did you try to call him?
“His phone was off.”
Bram elbows me in the ribs.
I grunt, but no one notices.
“Actually, Will came
home for a few minutes.
I told him about dinner
and asked for a ride.
He said he was busy.”
Dad frowns so hard,
his eyebrows touch.
He knows there’s more.
I worry about that boy.
He hardly ever talks to me.
Seems like all he does is sulk,
when he’s not blowing up.
What about therapy? asks Lily.
He went regularly for a while,
but now he refuses. I’ve asked
him to give it another try, but
he says it’s a waste of time.
A waitress comes over
to take our order, and
I’m happy she interrupts.
I don’t want to talk about
Will with a stranger.
But it’s Lily who changes
the subject.
Tell me about school, Trace.
I hear you’re super bright.
GATE. That’s gifted and talented!
And he gets all A’s, too.
Dad actually sounds
proud of me. Weird.
Guess I can talk about
Rainbow Ridge. It’s a K–12
public charter school.
Will and I both go there.
In fact, we moved
to our neighborhood
to be closer and make
it easier. Dad said it was so
Will could keep an eye
on me, but I know it was
the other way around.
Not that we see each
other much at Rainbow.
I’m on the lower campus,
but it’s attached to the upper,
where middle and high schoolers go.
I tell some of that to Lily
but don’t mention I hated
leaving my old school and
friends behind, or anything
too personal. I still don’t get
why I’m talking to her at all.
So when our milkshakes
land on the table, I take a big
slurp and ask, “Do you work
at the casino with Dad?”
Dad shakes his head. Lily’s
the recreation coordinator
at the retirement village
where my dear old dad lives.
Grandpa Russ moved out here
from Minnesota after Grandma
Isabel passed away.
He didn’t like the cold, either.
Said he only lived there
because that’s where he grew up
and he didn’t know better.
“That’s how you met? Visiting Grandpa?”
It’s a Duh Question
The kind you already know
the answer to, but you can’t
stop your mouth from asking.
Well, sort of, says Lily.
I was organizing—
“Wait. Let me guess.
A shuffleboard tournament.”
She giggles. No, though I am
responsible for those, too,
as well as golf, bridge, yoga,
water aerobics, camping trips,
movie nights, and ski weekends.
I want to ask if lots of old
people ski, but Dad interrupts.
Lily was putting together
a casino night, and my dad told
her I might be a good connection.
to be downtown, so I decided
to stop by and meet Sebastian
in person. He was very helpful.
Her hand floats down
on top of his, like a leaf
drifting onto the ground.
I expect him to pull away.
But their fingers lock together.
No.
No.
No.
She smiles.
Looks into his eyes.
Dad stares back.
No.
No.
No.
I’m about to say exactly
that—one two-letter
word, on auto repeat—
when the waitress
comes with our food.
So instead, when I open
my mouth, it’s to ask Lily
to please pass the ketchup.
At least it makes her move
her hand, which I try to ignore
while we finish dinner.
Like Always
The burgers and fries are killer.
So much better than frozen
stuff tossed in the microwave—
three minutes to something
that sort of looks like real food.
Some kids have parents who
cook. I know, because some
of them are my friends, and
that includes Bram. His mom
could be a restaurant chef.
My mom? Serene Etienne
might be a killer singer,
but her scrambled eggs
were runny, and she always
burnt the toast. And Dad?
Once in a while, on his days
off, he gives it a try. Will and I
gag everything down, emphasis
on the “gag.” Usually, he gets
takeout. Pizza or Chinese.
So when Lily says,
We should all have dinner
at my house soon. I’m a darn
good cook, if I do say so myself.
my first thought is, Sure!
Then I remember who’s talking.
Doesn’t Matter
Because Dad’s all in.
Great idea! It’s been a long
time since we’ve had decent
home cooking, huh, Trace?
“What do you mean? Your
grilled cheeses are primo.”
If you like barely melted American
on grease-soaked white bread.
Yeah, sure. I see the way you
and Will eat them—swallowing
hunks with big gulps of juice.
I’m sure they’re wonderful,
Lily says. But I was thinking
maybe enchiladas or carnitas.
You like Mexican food, don’t you?
I do! says Bram.
My favorite! says Dad.
Well, after Puerto Rican.
Oh, man, she’s making this
hard, because I cannot tell a lie.
So I’ll just tone it down a little.
“Uh-huh. It’s okay.”
It’s Hard
Not to like Lily.
She smiles a lot.
Has really good manners.
Listens when you talk.
Acts like she’s interested.
Probably fake.
Why would she care
about what I have to say?
But even in the car,
when Dad drives her home,
she keeps asking questions.
So, you and Bram are teammates?
What positions do you play?
What’s your favorite Major League
team? Ever been to a game?
When I tell her no,
she shakes her head.
Let’s remedy that. My brother
lives in LA. He’s a Dodgers fan
and has season tickets.
“No way! Seriously?”
Third-base line, behind
the Dodgers’ dugout.
Cool! says Bram.
Yeah. Why does she have
to be so cool? Annoying.
Dad turns the car into one
of those neighborhoods
where the houses all look alike—
beige with dark brown trim—
and there’s a palm tree in every yard.
Actually, it looks a lot like
our neighborhood, only those
houses are gray and navy blue.
Except for all the weird stuff
on the Strip (which is wild!),
Las Vegas isn’t very creative.
When we get to Lily’s,
Dad parks the car and walks
her to the front door.
She left the porch light on
and I can see a bunch of moths
swarming around the bulb.
Lily puts her key in the lock,
then turns to say goodbye.
Don’t look, advises Bram.
Too late.
Dad Kisses Her
Not on her forehead.
Not on her cheek.
Straight up on her lips.
Not too long.
Not real hard.
But it means something.
Maybe not much.
Maybe too much.
Now I need to know.
Bram checks out my face.
You okay, dude?
“Sure,” I lie.
You didn’t know, huh?
“Know what?”
That your dad has a girlfriend.
The word hits like a torpedo.
Girlfriend.
One word.
A girl friend, two words,
might be okay, and until
right now I could pretend
that’s what she was.
“No. I didn’t know.”
The sentence scratches
my throat. My eyes sting.
Why didn’t Dad tell me?
Who springs something
like that on his kid?
I wait till he gets back in
the car and turns out
on the main drag before
asking, “So, is Lily
your girlfriend or what?”
He doesn’t say anything
for a minute or two.
We’ve been seeing each other, yes.
“How long?”
He shrugs. A couple of months,
give or take. She’s nice, right?
“Yeah, she’s nice.
Yeah, I like her. But . . .”
But what?
“But what about Mom?”
Dad Takes a Deep Breath
Holds it, and my question,
inside for a long while.
Finally, he exhales.
Trace, your mom and I have
been divorced for over a year.
Even before that, we weren’t
really together. You know that.
“Yeah, but . . . it just feels . . .”
Wrong.
But I’m not sure why.
Like something ended.
Even if it did a while ago.
Like there’s no turning back.
Not that I thought we would.
Anyway, would turning back
make everything better?
Maybe yes.
Probably no.
It was Mom’s decision
to leave. She wasn’t happy.
Neither was Dad.
I just don’t know why
things have to get
more complicated.
“What about Will, Dad?”
What about him . . . what?
“What if this pushes him
farther away?”
I’m not sure that’s possible.
“You haven’t given up
on him, have you?”
Of course not! Never! He’s my son,
and so are you. You are the most
important people in my life.
“More important than Lily?”
What did I just tell you?
I glance over at Bram, who’s staring
out the window, pretending his fingers
are stuck in his ears. I should be quiet.
Instead, my mouth just keeps going.
“But you’re in love with her.”
He’s quiet for a second.
Yes, I guess I am, which
doesn’t mean I love you less.
“You’re not getting married,
right?” Please no. Please no.
Not tonight, Trace. Not tonight.
It’s Almost Eleven
By the time we get home.
Will’s car isn’t here, which,
of course, Dad notices.
He glances at his watch.
One hour until curfew.
Wonder what he’s up to.
This would be the time
to tell him about my money.
Instead I just say, “No clue.
Can Bram and I stay up for a while?”
Okay, says Dad. You can
have until curfew, too, okay?
“Cool.”
The midnight curfew is a county
law for kids under eighteen.
It’s not really a house rule.
But I’m usually in bed
by ten unless a friend
sleeps over.
Bram and I play Minecraft
for an hour, then say good night
to Dad, who’s stressing
because Will is still gone.
“You can have the bed,” I tell
Bram. “I’ll take the floor.”
Eew, dude. I don’t want to sleep
on your dirty sheets.
“Me neither. Let’s both
sleep on the floor.”
I get a couple of quilts
from the hall closet, fold them
so they’re like sleeping bags.
One half goes under us.
The other half can go over
if we get cold, but for now,
it’s way warm enough without.
We try to get comfortable.
Now Bram asks, Why didn’t you
tell your dad about Will?
“After everything else,
it didn’t see
m so important.”
Are you mad about Lily?
“Not really. It’s just, Dad’s
been ‘too busy’ for Will
and me, so how did he find
enough time to fall in love?”
The Question Floats
Like a feather in the darkness.
I don’t expect an answer.
Not from Bram, for real,
because what he says is:
You want your dad to be
happy, don’t you?
“Sure! But I don’t want
him to get married again.
I don’t want a stepmom.
I want my real mom back.”
He thinks that over, then,
Where does she live?
“In hotel rooms, mostly,
I guess. She’s on the road
a lot of the time.”
She doesn’t have a house?
“No. When she isn’t traveling,
she stays with Maureen and Paul.”
Who’s that?
“Her mom and dad. They don’t
like to be called Grandma and
Grandpa. They live in Denver.”
How often do you get to see her?
“Not very. The last time
was right before Christmas.”
He whistles real quietly.
That’s almost four months.
“Yeah, I know.”
Weird, but I think this
is the first time I’ve talked
to Bram about Mom.
She’s like a secret
I hide inside. But why?
“Want to see something?”
Okay.
I grab the flashlight
I stashed by my pillow
in case of emergency.
Scoot
my butt
across
the floor.
Open
the closet
door.
Way in Back
Behind a stack of Lego boxes
is the bottle of my mom’s shampoo
and a couple of magazines.
Bram doesn’t need to know
what Mom smells like,
so I leave the shampoo behind.
“Here. Hold this.”
I hand over the flashlight,
sit next to him.
I’ve looked at the articles
so many times, the magazines
open automatically
to the correct pages.
The first is an old Las Vegas
Weekly. The headline says:
Serene Etienne and Obsidian
Want to Rock Your World
“That’s my mom when
she was twenty-three,
when she first came to Vegas.
Obsidian is her band.”