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Lo tries to relax his pissy face. “It’s not.” He averts his gaze from me, tells his son he looks great, makes a couple dad jokes, and then asks, “Is Easton on his way?”
“About that…” Xander slouches against the washer, taking a large swig of Sprite. “He’s not coming.”
“He’s not?” I’m in the same confused boat as Xander’s dad. Just yesterday, Easton and Xander were talking about the suits they bought together. They’re dressed as “the blood in the ocean” for the Under the Sea theme. Shark bait.
I thought it was clever.
“Did this just happen today?” Lo asks.
“Yeah, this afternoon. After Donnelly left my detail.” Xander scratches at his head. “Easton’s parents are super strict, and they caught us smoking in his bedroom last night. So yeah, he’s grounded.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Lo says with an outstretched hand. “You were smoking?” For a split-second, his glare cuts to me, like I put the cigarette in his hand.
I should go, and I’m about to leave, but Xander says to me, “Wait, stay,” and then to his Dad, “It was a cigarette. Not pot.”
“Did you give him cigarettes?” Lo’s asking me.
I shake my head, a knot in my stomach.
“Easton bought them,” Xander interjects. “I know you hate smoking and shit, but they’re just cigarettes. One isn’t going to kill me. What’s the big deal?”
“It’s a bad habit. Take it from an addict, bad habits aren’t things worth starting.”
“But Farrow—”
“I’m not talking about Farrow. I’m talking about you.”
Xander groans. “So what, you’re going to ground me too? Over a fucking cigarette? Seriously, Dad?”
I shouldn’t be here.
I should go. It’s all I’m thinking, but the more Xander eyes me like I’m his friend standing alongside him confronting his dad, the more I hesitate.
“No, I’m not going to ground you,” Lo says sternly. “You think I’m the bad guy, Xander, but I’m not. I know you’re going to smoke. I know you might even try pot like your brother and sister. But I’m still going to tell you smoking is bad for you. I might even send you photos of rotted, diseased lungs. Because I love you, and I’m going to wish a long healthy life for you. Okay?”
Xander exhales deeply, no longer on the defensive. “Yeah, okay, I get it.”
I slip into the conversation. “You’re still going to the dance?”
“I didn’t want to.” He swishes the Sprite can. “It made me kind of anxious thinking of a school dance without Easton, but um, I just thought…I’d go for thirty minutes, then go to his house afterwards. Just to say I did it. And then, today, a girl asked me out. She’s really pretty—like the hottest girl in school kind of pretty—and I don’t know, I finally said yes to someone.” Nerves seem to steal his smile. “I told her we could meet at the school. She was okay with that, I think.”
“Who?” I wonder.
“Delilah Avalon.”
Delilah. I try not to rock backwards. I try to keep my face even. I’m praying she didn’t ask Xander to Homecoming to try to be closer to me. Don’t do that to him.
He shrugs. “I always thought her last name was cool, so…” His Adam’s apple bobs, and he wipes his sweaty palm on his slacks. “Maybe I should cancel—I’m gonna cancel.”
“Hey, it’s just a dance,” Lo says, his arm around his son in comfort. “If you’re having a bad time, you can leave. Don’t play the bad scenarios on loop, bub.”
“Too late.” He swigs the last of his Sprite but eases a little. “Alright, I’ll go. I’ll go.”
I could talk him out of it, but I don’t have the heart. I’m just hoping I’m wrong about Delilah.
“Xander!” Lily calls from the kitchen. “Pictures!”
I’m a shadow behind the Hales. Once we’re in the living room, Lily is already snapping photos near the staircase and foyer. “You look so handsome, Xander. Doesn’t he look handsome, Lo?”
Lo is smiling brighter, happier in this second than I’ve seen in months. “Like a young Cyclops.”
“So cute,” Lily beams.
Xander flushes. “Yeah, yeah. Okay, okay.” He peeks over at me like his parents have succeeded in embarrassing the shit out of him today.
I smile and nod to myself. This is what adolescence should be about, and though I didn’t get to experience this, it’s cool that I have a window into something youthful and happy a decade and some years later.
“Hey, let’s give Summers some room to breathe,” Maximoff says, coming down the stairs with Baby Ripley in his arms. Farrow is right behind them. “It’s a dance, not his wedding.”
“Thank you,” Xander says earnestly. “It’s just Homecoming.” He loosens the red silk tie.
Farrow notices me, but I try not to make complete eye contact. Need an easy out, and I shouldn’t get stuck here talking to him.
Plus, Salem has perked up near the fireplace, and Kinney’s puppy is trying to coax me into an unblinking stare-off. All while the Lonely Mountain prances around my legs, expecting belly rubs.
