Dad laughs. “Who told youthat?” He smiles at his empty plate. “Your mother would have thought that was really funny.”
It’s a bittersweet consolation, but I’m happy to have it anyway. “Well, what would she have said about this?”
“Mom?” he asks, and I nod. His face scrunches up, faux offended. “She knew even less than me.”
We both laugh.
He props his chin on a palm, looking up at the ceiling, and attempts a real answer. “I don’t know what she would have said. I think she might’ve just pawned the whole situation off on me.” Voice wistful, he adds, “She would’ve been thrilled you’d be on the show, though. Probably jealous you got to meet that smarmy host man.”
I gasp. “JSP isnot‘smarmy.’ ”
Dad nods. “He is.”
“Mom would divorce you for saying that,” I joke.
“She would. But lucky for me, she’s stuck with me forever.” He waggles his eyebrows. “You know, you could always—” Dad’s eyes go wide. “Oh! Wait!” He rockets to his feet and shuffles off to his room-slash-closet.
“What’s going on?”
He waves me away, standing on his bed to reach the shelf above his clothing rack. He brings down an old box held together at its aging seams with several layers of packing tape. The logo on the box is unreadable, but it looks like a burial place for ancient computer tech or perhaps a fax machine.
Setting it on his bed, he undoes the flaps and sticks his hand comically far in, a magician reaching into the shadow realm of his top hat and pulling out a rabbit. Whatever he finds is small enough to be hidden between his palms when he returns to the table.
“Open your hands,” he commands.
“Is it a bug?” I say, obeying even as I lean the rest of my body away warily.
“Yes, Noelle, I’ve been keeping a bug in a box above my bed for this very moment,” he says flatly. “Of course it’s not a bug. Why would it be a bug?”
“I don’t know,” I say, ready to make a snarky comment just as a small, hinged ring box drops into my hands. “What’s this?”
“Open it. I bought it for your birthday, but…” He trails off as I lift the box’s lid.
A delicate globe-shaped pendant with a gold chain sits on a pillow of plush velvet. I slide a finger underneath, lifting it gently to examine the pendant.
When I say it’s globe-shaped, I don’t mean round. I mean it is literally a mini globe, no bigger than my thumbnail. The stand is made of a yellow gold that pierces through an iridescent blue orb—Earth, obviously. The planet is cut in half horizontally by a gold stripe, indicating that it could be opened like a locket if you got the ball off the stand.
“Wow, this is so pretty,” I say, spinning the world on its axis with ease. “Ooh, fidgety.” I smile up at my dad, unsurprised to see tears in his eyes. It’s not unusual for him to get weepy over a birthday present. It’s not really unusual for him to get weepy overanything. It’s part of his charm.
“Yeah.” His gaze won’t find mine, roaming the floor, the table, and the necklace instead. “I hope you like it.”
“I love it,” I say easily, opening the clasp and securing it around my neck. “Thanks, Dad.” I spin the pendant again.
“It’s, uh…I was going to joke earlier that you could bring your mom’s ashes on the show to meet that smarmy host man, but I realized”—he pauses, gesturing at the necklace—“I guess you really can.”
My throat tightens, hand closing around the globe and stopping it mid-spin. “Mom’s ashes are in here?”
He nods, staring at my fist. “Yeah. I thought you might want to take her to college with you. But now you can take her on your guys’ show. I didn’t get that shape because ofAdventureverse, though.” Clearing his throat, he grabs my plate and stacks it on his with a clatter. “It’s a world because you were her world. I guess.”
I swallow, gripping tighter until the metal digs into my skin. “Oh.”
“Well,” he says, suddenly chipper as he gathers our utensils and carries everything to the sink. The water squeals on. “I’m glad you don’t think it’s too cheesy.” He shoots me a smile, and it’s not forced, exactly. But it is on purpose.
I swallow again. And again. “No, it’s perfect. I, I…” I feel the fog coming on, like a cloud passing over my thoughts.Stay here. I have to stay here.The sharp bite of the necklace grounds me enough to say, “I don’t want to lose it. Should I leave it here? What if I lose it?”
My dad turns, wiping his hand on a dish towel. “Sweet girl.” He chuckles. “Take it with you. It fit less than a teaspoon of ashes. You’ll basically be carrying around her toenail.”
I fake gag. “Eugh, you didn’t have to say it like that.”
