Burning Down the House Read Free Page A

uniquely colored eyes while my dad carried the bags into my room. I had no idea what to say that wouldn’t sound like complete and utter gibberish, so I chose the safe option and said nothing. He didn’t make a move to speak either. We both just stood there in awkward silence, looking at everything but each other until Dad returned.
    “You guys getting hungry?” he asked.
    “Starving!” I confess ed, a little too enthusiastically. “I didn’t eat much at the reception and that was something like seven hours ago and it was mainly hors d’oeuvres so I could eat a kicking mule right about now.” Way to go, Sara. Start off by making him think you’re a total oinker. Nice. “Just let me run to the bathroom first, okay? I’ll be right back.” Having been leery of using the airline’s public toilets, by now I was ready to flood the place.
    “All right. We’ll wait for you in the car.”
    I took care of business and freshened up in record time, then headed back out to the Prius. Rob had been nice enough to take the back seat so I could sit up front with Dad. Once I was buckled in, I turned around to face him with the intention of striking up a conversation.
    “So…what have you been up to?” It was a pretty vapid opener, but I wanted to follow my dad’s suggestion to keep things light. The guy seemed morose enough as it was.
    He arched one eyebrow. “Not much.”
    “You look different. Um…you know. Bigger.”
    The expression on his face indicated that he’d just determined me to possess the IQ of a head of lettuce.
    “How does the Roadhouse sound?” Dad cut in. “You two in the mood for steak?”
    “Sounds great to me.” I flash ed Rob a bright smile. “That okay with you?”
    “Anything’s fine with me.” His response was unassuming enough, but the way he was glowering at me behind my dad’s back was unsettling. Had I done something to offend him already? If so, I had no idea what it could be. I’d been nothing but nice.
    I tr ied again. “You still hang out with Doug and Trent?”
    “Sometimes.”
    “I bet they look a lot different now too.”
    His only response was a shrug.
    “Does Doug still dye his hair purple?”
    “No.”
    “Remember that time - I think it was seventh grade - when Trent hid the dead fish in Mrs. McAllister’s room and she couldn’t find it?”
    “Mm.”
    “It stunk up the room for days until the janitor finally found it in a ceiling tile,” I informed my dad, who was apparently the only one with enough civility to feign interest in my anecdotes. “Until then she had to keep all the windows open during class, in the middle of January. Everyone nearly froze.”
    “Sounds like something Trent would do,” Dad laughed.
    “What - you know Trent?”
    “ Sure. He’s been over to the house a few times.”
    “Oh.” Well, that ma de sense if he and Rob were still hanging out, didn’t it? I’d given up on trying to converse with him for the time being. Maybe he’d warm up later.
    Once inside the restaurant I ma de the mistake of sliding into the booth across from my dad rather than next to him. Which meant that Rob had no alternative but to sit beside me because anything else would have looked strange. I know it’s ridiculous, but it made me nervous to be that close to him. Every once in a while his foot would bump me or his well-developed arm would brush against mine. For some crazy reason, I kept half expecting him to touch my thigh underneath the table but of course that never happened. Jeez, my mind was really in the gutter tonight.
    Rob was mannerly but quiet throughout dinner. As for me, I chattered on and on like a macaw on crack, mostly in an attempt to camouflage my discomfort. I couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed with my dad for not providing more advance warning of this situation. But he seemed oblivious, typically relaxed and at ease, so maybe the awkwardness was all in my head. Maybe I was trying too hard when it wasn’t really necessary.
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