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“Dumb,” he mumbled, eyes glued to his DS screen.
“Really?” I thought he liked it.
“All we did was go over stuff happening at the campout. That’s it.”
I thought about last month—Oliver crying, how upset he was over this, followed by my conversation with Jenna outside on the deck. I decided not to pry any further.
“If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here, all right?”
He glanced over at me and nodded, looking like that meant something to him, hearing that from me. Then he got back to his game.
Marley knelt in my lap and grabbed the stuffed turtle beside my hip. She spoke softly to it and studied its legs sticking out of the shell.
“My mom’s date is tomorrow night,” Olivia said, keeping her voice quiet.
“Oh yeah?”
She looked up from her iPad and grinned. “Yep. And we get to have a sleepover at Uncle Brian’s house. We haven’t done that in forever.”
My smile was so fucking forced right now, but I couldn’t not smile at her. Shit, I smiled the other night when Olivia told me all about this date. She was excited about it then. As soon as I walked in the door, Olivia shared the news.
She was speaking fast and jumping around, grabbing on to me so I’d stand beside her and listen. She told me how much her mom loved dates, all kinds of dates, because all girls did, and how Jenna never got to go on them but when she did get to go on them, “You should see how happy she is, Nate, and how pretty she looks. She dresses up and does her hair all wavylike with accessories, and her makeup is so super fancy. You should see her. I can’t wait for her to go on another one! You want her to go too, right, Nate? Don’t you want her to go?”
What the hell was I supposed to say to that? Olivia was impossible to disappoint. If I made her sad by answering how I wanted to answer, I’d hate myself for it. I knew I would. So I lied, telling Olivia I wanted her mom going. That I couldn’t wait either.
You should see how happy she is, Nate.
Fuck. And this shit was happening tomorrow.
I steadied Marley when she stood on my thighs. Then I looked over at Jenna. She was still smiling, listening to whoever she was on the phone with.
Shit, was it him? That motherfucking “family friend”?
“O’ver! O’ver!” Marley squirmed out of my hold. She climbed down and hurried over to the love seat with her turtle. Then she stood next to Oliver’s shoulder and watched his screen.
I heard a rustling sound and looked beside me.
Olivia pulled that same notepad she was always bringing over out of her duffle. She shoved her iPad away, dropping her bag on the floor. Then she clicked a pen open and steadied it on a blank page, eyes finding mine and mouth opening, readying to fire a million questions at me.
She did this a lot. And I never had any issues answering her. Olivia’s questions were harmless. It was more about my opinion on things, not anything personal. The questions were typically random too, jumping from topic to topic. Although, I had a pretty good idea what the theme was going to be tonight.
“Do you like going out on dates, Nate?”
I threw my arm behind her and rested it on the back of the couch. “Sure. Who doesn’t like dates?”
“What kind of dates do you like?”
“Dinner. Maybe a movie. It depends.”
She nodded thoughtfully and scribbled down her notes.
I kept my eyes from straining to the page. I figured if Olivia wanted me knowing what all she wrote down about me, she’d eventually share it.
“Depends on what the girl wants, right?” she asked. “My uncle Brian says boys should always do whatever the girl wants to do, even if they don’t like it.”
“That’s true, they should.” When she looked up at me, I asked, “What about your mom? What kind of dates does she like?” Might as well use this Q&A to my advantage. I could always store this information for later.
Olivia’s eyes lit up. She pushed her glasses up her nose. “Oh, like, all kinds. She loves going out to dinner. But she doesn’t like going to the movies.”
“No?”
“No. She thinks they’re gross. Everyone puts their heads on the seats and they might have lice. You could catch it.”
I snorted. “Well, I think the risk of that happening is pretty slim.”
“It happened to Oliver.” Olivia nodded slowly when my eyes flickered wider. “We were six. Mom swears he got it from the movie theater. We had to wash everything. And she made us all put that special shampoo on our heads, not just Oliver. I had to do it too.” She glanced down at the page. “Did you ever get lice when you were a little kid?”
