I WAS RESENTINGBridesmaid Two for churning up all my emotions when my parents came up to our table to check on how everyone was doing.
“Is everyone settled in?” my dad asked the group, in full host mode.
Oh, yes, everyone confirmed.
“Today’s an ‘at-sea’ day,” my dad said, making air quotes like he might be starting a vocab lesson, “but there are activities planned from morning till midnight.” Then, and I’m not even kidding, he started handing out printed schedule pages to everyone at the table.
I squinted at him, likeWhere’s my real dad?
My real dad never knew anything aboutanyfamily schedule.
My real dad wouldn’t evenbehere. He’d be stuck in a work meeting somewhere.
But this must have been part of trying to win my mom back. He must be trying to prove that he had at least the potential to participate. I looked him over as he worked the table with that big trying-too-hard smile—giving thumbs-ups to Mr. Dunn and slapping Brody on the back.
It had a real whiff of desperation about it.
And then it hit me.
My dad wanted us all to see him differently. He was attempting to rebrand, too.
And I got that. Isogot that.
Too bad he missed Harmony’s TED Talk on the semiotics of love bites.
For maybe the first time in my life, I felt sympathy for my dad.
It’s not easy, is it, buddy?my heart wanted to say.
But that heart of mine was about to have bigger concerns.
Because, next… the guy I’d been waiting for all this time showed up at last.
“Finn!” Mr. Dunn said warmly, spotting him first. “There you are!” Then he gestured toward me. “JoJo’s been pining for you all morning.”
How couldMr. Dunnhave intuited that? Just how obvious was I being?
I felt an urge to say, “No, I wasn’t!” But of course that would’ve been worse.
“We’ve been reminiscing about the old neighborhood,” Mr. Dunn continued. “And that time JoJo got diarrhea on the Fourth of July.”
Seriously, Mr. Dunn?
“That’s not—” I started. I was going to say “fair,” but I decided, instead, to finish with “appetizing.” As if the only person Mr. Dunn had just harmed was Finn.
Then I gave Finn an apologetic look.
But Finn just shook his head, and shrugged, and frowned—all at once. Like none of it mattered, and he was completely unbothered by everything. And definitely like he didn’t need me to stand up for him. And, frankly, like he had no idea—again—who this “JoJo” person with digestive issues might even be.
Fifteen
“WHAT ISWRONGwith people?” I demanded after breakfast as I dragged Cooper in circles around the promenade deck, not even noticing the lovely and vast ocean view all around us. “What exactly was the point of spendingthree hourstelling humiliating stories about me at the table?”
Breakfast had lasted thirty minutes.
“Of all the available items,” I went on, “on the infinite menu of topics for human breakfast conversation, whyme? Why my life? Why weren’t we talking aboutyou? I could watch a whole ten-part documentary about your off-the-charts amazing life! Why does my diarrhea from fifteen years ago outrank your daily use ofthunder metal?”
“I thought the stories were cute,” Cooper said.
