Chapter Nineteen
Eliza
“O, teach me how I should forget to think!”
—William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet
My clothes stuck to me like I had swum in a river with them on, and my hair continued to drip down my back after Reed dropped me off at my Jeep. All the way home, I played the moment between us at the amphitheater over and over again, so distracted I almost ran the red light outside of the church.
Thankfully, my phone—still dry since I had left it in Reed’s truck—kept buzzing with message reminders from Dad.
For one panicked moment I thought maybe he messaged me because he saw Reed and me slip out of the diner.
But it was pretty crowded at the time, and his back had been to us as we ducked out.
There was no way he saw us.
Right?
Either way, I didn’t plan to read any of the missed texts from him until I got home. Nothing was going to ruin this moment and the bubbly giddiness I felt.
I pulled off Main Street and down our long driveway, absentmindedly counting the trees lining both sides, the same way kids often counted stairs while they climbed.
Lauryn always said these trees creeped her out because they moved when she walked by them, like they followed her with their invisible tree eyes.
It was strange to think that Reed had passed these trees not too long ago to drop off my bag of My Little Pony toys.
So much had changed since that peace offering.
I stopped the Jeep short near the open garage, my smile disappearing faster than the makeup crew after touchups during intermission. Dad stood under the hickory tree near the old tire swing with his arms crossed and a frown on his face. An ice-cold rock dropped into my gut.
Oh God. He did see us at the diner.
What was he going to say? Would he ground me for the rest of the summer? Make me quit the play?
And what about Reed? What about us? Was this over just as quickly as it had begun because Jenny’s had the best pie around?
My hands shook as I turned off the engine and stepped out of the Jeep. Dad gave my soaked clothes a quick once-over before he walked away from the tree, up the front porch steps, and inside the house, slamming the door behind him.
Truth: When Hurricane Dad gave you the silent treatment first instead of yelling at you outright, that’s when you were in the deepest of—
Mom swung open the door. “Eliza, inside. Now.”
Shit.
I no sooner dropped my soaked Converse on the mat inside the front door than Dad started berating me with questions.
“Where the hell were you this afternoon? Why didn’t you answer your phone?” His face changed to a deep red, almost purple. “And why in God’s name did you leave Lauryn alone at the store on a Thursday? She doesn’t work there, Eliza!”
I struggled to swallow. “She’s…she’s helped me before—”
“Helping you is a hell of a lot different than being in charge. A group of contractors from Dennis and Sons came by for their order, and she had no idea what to do. Finally, one of them had the sense to call me. I had to leave a very important meeting to handle it.”
A meeting at a diner was “very important”?
He threw his hands up. “They were late to their jobsite, Eliza!”
“Will, calm down. You scream any louder and you’ll shatter your mother’s china.
” Mom entered the room with one of the bath towels from the guest bathroom and tossed it to me.
I pushed it against my face, grateful for the brief escape from my father’s heated stare, and relieved that he obviously hadn’t seen us earlier.
“This behavior is not like you. Showing up late, forgetting to text us, leaving work without permission…” Dad pressed his hands together. “Help us understand what’s going on here, Eliza.”
“What’s going on.” Where can I even begin?
I had no more of an explanation than I would for why someone thought it was smart to put peanut butter and jelly in the same jar. “I was at the theater.” It sounded believable. Kinda.
“I called the theater. They said you never came in today.” Dad sat down on the arm of the couch.
Okay, maybe not so believable.
I tucked a piece of wet hair behind my ear. Now what? Did I have to tell them about Reed when I didn’t really know what we actually were or if this was even going to be anything beyond this summer? “Okay, the truth is—”
“She was with me.” TJ appeared from the kitchen, holding a sandwich with mustard oozing out of the side. “She needed an extra set of hands in the catwalk replacing some, um…”
“Cans,” I blurted. “Couple of them blew out during our last rehearsal.”
“Cans. Yeah, that’s what they’re called.” TJ took a big bite and spoke with his mouth full. “She had the, um, the…”
“Presets on,” I said, hurrying across the room. “So the stage was lit the whole time—”
“And no one probably knew she was even up there. You know how Eliza is, always quiet as a mouse.”
Ha. I wish.
“Why is she soaking wet?” Mom asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“We had to help Ms. Sparrow move some sets inside once it started raining. I left earlier than her so I had time to change and dry off.” TJ wiped his hands on the bottom of his shirt.
If they bought this, I owed him the best Christmas present ever.
Dad cleared his throat. “I still don’t understand why you had to leave the hardware store to fix a…a can in the catwalk. Doesn’t sound like an emergency to me but if something like that happens again, you need to call me or your mother first. You hear me?”
I nodded.
Mom took the towel from me and picked off a piece of pine from my shirtsleeve. “Go upstairs and clean up. We’re going out to dinner tonight.”
“ ‘Out’?” TJ and I both said.
Dad stood and clapped his hands. “Yes, out. Gives us all time to chat some more about everything.”
“ ‘Everything’?” The rock in my stomach grew heavier.
“Couldn’t we just order something to go like we’ve been doing all summer and eat in awkward silence?” TJ asked.
Yes, I vote for that.
Dad walked over to us and patted TJ’s shoulder before nudging my wet head. “Meet us at my truck in twenty minutes, you two.”
Angelo’s had the best pizza across three towns, and they didn’t take reservations, so it was rare to walk in and not wait.
I had forgotten to eat since this morning and drooled just thinking about that Sicilian pie with crushed red pepper.
Maybe if I kept shoveling food into my mouth, I wouldn’t have to answer more questions about this afternoon.
“So anything you wanna tell me?” TJ slung his arm around my shoulders as we walked toward the front door of the restaurant.
“Nope.” I flicked his hand.
“Because if this is going to be something you do all summer…sneaking away…we’re gonna need to work on your lying skills.”
Fair.
Dad opened the door for all of us, but I immediately bumped into TJ, who stopped short inside the entrance.
“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.”
We smiled at each other before realizing we weren’t the only ones in the room. I looked away first.
Dad closed his menu and narrowed his eyes at Reed’s granddad. “Are you sure you’ll be able to look after the stadium if you win this tournament, Louis?”
Oh, hell, here we go.
Mr. Fulton folded his menu and set it on his lap. “When we win the stadium, William, we’ll be just fine. But your concern is noted. Perhaps with all your free time, you can volunteer your services there as needed.”
Dad tensed next to me. “We’ll be too busy managing another stadium elsewhere for that.”
Thanks for the reminder.
The hostess appeared. “Mr. Crowley, your table is ready.”
Wait. Our table?
Mr. Fulton slowly rose to his feet. “We were here first, young lady. We’ve been waiting for almost half an hour.”
The hostess’s eyes widened. “My manager had a table set aside for the Crowleys before they came—”
“But you don’t take reservations,” Reed said. “You never have.”
Mr. Fulton put his hand on Reed’s shoulder. “Never mind that.” His gaze went from my father, my mother, and then to me.
I shrunk a good four feet from that look.
“I’ve just remembered why we don’t go out to eat here,” Mr. Fulton said. “Let’s go.”
I jumped up. “You could have our table, if you like.”
Everyone stopped and stared at me like I had grown three heads. I might’ve…I mean, anything was possible in the Upside Down.
“Thank you, sweetheart.” Mrs. Fulton patted my shoulder. “But you go on and enjoy your meal.” She looped her arm through her husband’s and left, Reed following closely behind without a second glance at my family—or me.