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“Well, this won’t be a silent meal, but it will be awkward,” he said.

I peered around his big shoulders and gasped. Mr. and Mrs. Fulton sat next to the hostess stand holding their menus. As the door closed loudly, they looked up and gawked at all four of us. Mrs. Fulton smiled, but Mr. Fulton glared at Dad as if he were equal parts vermin and predator.

Reed approached from the back of the restaurant. “They redid the bathrooms, eh? Fancy automatic sinks—” He cut himself off as his eyes found mine before moving to TJ and then my parents. “Um…hello, Mr. and Mrs. Crowley.”

He had changed too, but his hair was still damp like mine, wavy and messy in the sexiest way…

I blinked and looked down at my flip flops.

Get it together, Eliza. No more sexy-hair thoughts.

Until maybe later.

“Good evening, dear,” Mom said, her voice tight. “How are your parents doing? I haven’t seen them yet this summer.”

“Mom’s fine. Working hard at the library back home. Dad’s deployed overseas right now.” He shoved his hands—the same hands that had been deliciously all over me only hours ago—into his pockets, and eyed the exit behind us.

Maybe I could back out of it before Dad noticed?

“Please tell your dad we’re all so thankful for our troops,” Mom said, her face softening. “And maybe I can get your mom’s number? Ms. Gratton could use some updates to her read-alouds—”

“No!” Reed and I both yelled at the same time.

My cheeks flushed so hot that my mascara might melt.

“ ‘No’?” TJ’s voice rose with his eyebrows as he looked back and forth between us. “Why not, you two?”

“My mom’s, um…super busy with inventory right now. So I’ll, uh, have her call Ms. Gratton when she’s finished.” Reed rubbed the back of his neck.

“Of course,” Mom said. “No rush.”

Dad strolled up to the hostess. “Four, please. And we’d like a couple of menus while we wait.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Crowley.” She handed him some menus from behind her and made a note in her log. “It shouldn’t be long.”

“That’s what you said to us thirty minutes ago,” Mr. Fulton muttered.

The hostess—Rachel, on her name tag—turned redder than the checkered pattern of the tablecloths before hurrying away around the corner.

Mom, Dad, and I took a seat on the bench perpendicular to the Fultons with me, unfortunately, sandwiched in the middle. TJ chose to pace like an anxious cat. I hated when he did that.

Reed cleared his throat. “Congratulations on your winning record, Mr. Crowley.”

I choked on my own spit, and TJ stopped pacing.

Mom elbowed Dad, who slowly lowered his menu and mumbled a barely audible, “Thank you, Reed. Same to you.”

“Thank you.” Reed smiled briefly until his granddad scowled at him.

What the heck was going on here? Was Reed buttering up Dad on purpose? For me? It was sweet, but it didn’t stop sweat from dripping down my back.

“I think we’ve entered the Upside Down, Eliza,” TJ said.

For real.

“What’s the Upside Down?” Mom asked him.

Reed and I spoke at the same time: “From Stranger Things.”