Chapter 12
Biology Class
Day 16
“How come you never smile at me in the cafe? You smile at everyone else but me. It can’t be good business to glare at your most dependable customers,” Dax whispered in the middle of Mr. Gray’s lecture.
I kept my gaze forward, silently begging him to stop talking to me while Mr. Gray was teaching. It was so rude. But he kept at it, simply to annoy me.
“I smile when you leave.”
I felt his interested gaze on me. “Love seeing me walk away, huh?”
My face fell. “Ugh.”
“You walked right into that.”
“I know. Shut up.”
T-minus 42 days to exit
Dax hours remaining: 195
THE SENATOR
I need a favor.
ME
What?
THE SENATOR
Do you remember Bob Peterson? He’s been a big supporter the past ten years.
ME
Kind of.
THE SENATOR
Since the DUI, he has dropped his support for my campaign. Which is pretty disappointing because he was a huge donor.
The tone of a text could make or break a conversation. With my friends, I used a plethora of emojis, smiley faces, and exclamation points so as not to confuse the meaning behind my words. My dad needed no such frills. His words came out over text with the same biting edge they’d have if we were speaking in person. So, in response, mine did as well. In my heart of hearts, I knew the Petersons dropping support was probably not completely my fault, but the implication still stung.
ME
Sorry to hear that.
THE SENATOR
An acquaintance of mine and his son, Brent and Lucas Forester, will be coming into town this weekend to meet me and learn about my politics. If they like what I have to say, they could be a huge donor. Bigger than the Petersons.
ME
Okay.
THE SENATOR
I’ll be locked up in meetings with Brent on Saturday night, but I want you to take his son, Lucas, out for dinner and a tour of the island while we’re busy. Can you do that for me?
ME
I was going to work at the garage this weekend.
THE SENATOR
Surely you can spare a few hours for this. I feel like it’s the least you can do.
“Order up, Ivy!” Marco called from behind the industrial stove, jolting me from my phone.
“Be right there,” I called, from my quiet corner of the cafe kitchen.
It was easier to say yes. It wasn’t a big deal. The tour around the island would take thirty minutes, and I had to eat anyway. One hour and then I could get back to work at Dax’s shop.
ME
Fine. I can do that.
THE SENATOR
Great. Be at the house at 6pm. Dress nice. He’s going to rent a golf cart from the resort and pick you up. I don’t want to risk you driving .
I swiped out of his text thread and slid the phone in my pocket, shaking my hands as if to rid myself of his messages.
“You alright, Ivy?” Marco asked as I picked up my serving tray and began loading it with an order of pancakes and fish tacos. His dark eyes searched mine with concern, and I wondered what expression I showed on my face.
With some effort, I schooled the anguish into a smile. “I’m okay. Just tired today.”
According to the look on Marco’s glistening face over a stovetop of burgers, he didn’t believe me. But soon, we were both too engrossed in the lunch rush to give it any more attention. The cafe had needed me for the whole day today, which consequently left me itching to get to Dax’s.
To take out my frustration while sweeping his floors.
Even when Dax texted me later that afternoon, I was still only excited to go…sweep his floors.
DAX
Will you bring me a burger and fries on your way here tonight? I’m starving.
ME
That’s going to cost you.
DAX
I’ll pay you when you get here.
ME
Not in money. Two hours.
DAX
If you want to add two hours onto your time, that’s your business.
ME
No. Two hours OFF what I owe you. Since bargaining is a thing between us now.
DAX
One.
ME
TWO. And I won’t make you pay for it.
DAX
ONE and I will pay for it.
ME
Fine.
I was almost to the end of my shift when my phone buzzed again in my pocket.
DAX
I’m dying. Where are you?
ME
Such a baby. I’m almost done.
DAX
Are you bringing a Coke?
ME
That will definitely cost you extra. One whole hour.
DAX
Never mind. Just the burger and fries. And you.
Trouble.
He didn’t mean it how it sounded. I had seen Dax text in the shop plenty of times before. Usually with his hands full carrying batteries or tools or placing motors while tapping on his phone one-handed. There couldn’t be much thought into his communication, so the way my stomach dipped and rolled like a drop on a rollercoaster at his last two words was troubling. To say the least.
“With a smile like that, you must be talking to some cute guy,” Marco said, trying to peer over my shoulder at the phone.
“Hey!” I jumped and pushed him away.
“Who is it?” He laughed at my reaction. “Hopefully somebody different than earlier.”
I slid the phone in my back pocket while I attempted to stave off the sudden rush of blood to my cheeks. “None of your business.”
He held up a large bag brimming with burgers and fries in one hand and a large Coke in the other.
“‘Cause this looks like more food than one person could eat.”
I shrugged, slipping on my purse before taking the bag. “I think you’re grossly underestimating how much I can eat. Did you put in extra fries?”
“And sautéed peppers on both burgers. If it’s a date, you owe me details.”
“Not a date,” I said, sneaking a fry. “But thanks.”
I beelined it out of there, but not before Marco called out one more thing. “I know where you go after the cafe. Remember that!”
With my arms full of greasy food, I entered the lobby of Dax’s shop. I skittered my way past the small conglomeration of Legos, casually glancing down at my pathetic construction, when I stopped short. The small ball of Legos definitely looked different than it did when I left last night. Setting my bags and drink on the floor, I grabbed the guidebook and opened it.
I burst through Dax’s garage door, holding the burgers and Coke in one arm and the guidebook in another. “Alright, fess up! I was not on page fifty-two when I left! You can’t—” I stopped short when three heads flung in my direction at my brazen entrance.
My eyes first went to Dax, wearing his standard black tank top and jeans and standing next to a golf cart with the seat up and a large battery in his hand. A man and woman in their late fifties, dressed like tourists, stood nearby.
“Sorry. I didn’t know anyone was here,” I said, immediately feeling out of place.
“Books, do you know my parents? Mark and Trudy Miller. Mom and Dad, this is Ivy Brooks.” He nodded toward the woman wearing knee-length white shorts and a coral blouse with blonde hair cut in a stylish bob. Was this a joke? She looked like she was on her way to dancing lessons at the resort. Cheerful and bright with such a…sunny disposition. My eyes darted curiously to take in the man with his khaki shorts and sea-green shirt covered in palm trees, like he was ready to hit the golf course at any moment.
“The senator’s daughter?” Trudy’s delicate eyebrows arched curiously.
“That’s me.” I set the bag and drink on the counter before moving to shake their hands.
“Oh. You’re here…to fix the Lego car?” Trudy asked, her gaze sweeping over the cafe take-out bag and back to me.
Dax sauntered over, poking through the bag of fried foods. “Is this all for me?”
“Half of it’s mine. I didn’t eat lunch.”
“Oh, well, we can go so you two can eat your dinner,” Trudy said, glancing between us.
I pretended to look busy leafing through the calendar to clock in while Dax wrapped things up with his parents. I thought about taking my food and leaving, but his parents stood in front of the bag from the restaurant, and I didn’t want to interrupt again.
Dax never stopped moving while talking with his parents. His hands traveled in and out of his pockets before he’d fold his arms across his chest, just to repeat it all over again. He was never unkind. He just seemed…uncomfortable. Like he was forcing himself to chat with them.
“So you’re coming to my birthday barbecue, then?” Trudy asked, a hopeful lilt in her voice as she looked up at her son.
“Trent’s coming?”
“Yes, he’ll be here after the Fourth,” she answered.
Dax hesitated, and I watched in confusion. If I had parents that sweet, I’d be using every excuse in the book to spend time with them.
“It is my birthday,” Trudy reminded her son, with a teasing jab to his ribs.
Dax smiled, resigned. “I’ll be there.”
They were almost out the door when Trudy stopped and turned back to me. “You’re welcome to come too, Ivy. The more the merrier.”
It took some willpower not to widen my eyes in shock. Instead, I gave the polite response when someone gets a pity invite. “Oh, thank you. I’ll take a look at my schedule.”
“Okay, bye now.” She blew a kiss to Dax.
“Enjoy your dinner,“ Mark said, with an eyebrow raised toward Dax.
When they were gone, Dax looked over at me with a knowing expression on his face, which had my defensive nerves kicking up a notch.
“I’m not eating in here with you. I was just coming to clock in and drop off your food. I didn’t know your parents were here. ”
He huffed out a laugh while he pulled out a hamburger from the bag and sat down on a barstool. And because I was still lingering and watching him with a fascination that should be illegal, he kicked out the other stool with his foot and motioned for me to sit down.
“Just eat here.”
Tentatively, I sat down on the stool next to him. This should be fine. I served him enough at the cafe. Though, sitting next to him alone in his quiet shop while Billy Joel serenaded us with “Piano Man” didn’t feel quite the same as at the cafe.
“Your parents seem nice,” I ventured.
He hesitated before taking a bite. “Yup. They’re very nice.”
Seemingly oblivious, he turned back to his burger, effectively shutting down this line of inquiry. I wasn’t in a position to judge so completely, but in a way, it felt similar to how I acted with my own dad. But unlike the senator, his mom had seemed overjoyed to be talking with her son. Still, there had clearly been a distance between them.
I made a note to tell Dr. Barb I would be after her job if this whole mathematician thing didn’t work out.
“Is that a Coke?” Dax asked as he watched me take a sip.
“Yeah, too bad you didn’t spring for one too.”
He smiled and went back to his food.
I took a bite of my burger, and for a moment I gave my thanks and appreciation to the all-American diet. I’d lived over a week with my dad and Angela, and she had no appreciation for such exquisite cuisine.
“Why do you listen to this music?” I asked Dax as the chorus of “Piano Man” picked up.
He listened for a moment before saying. “Because it’s the best. You’re embarrassing yourself, Books.”
“You’re a disgrace to our generation.”
“Our generation is the disgrace.”
“How’d you get into it?” I asked, pointing toward the speakers in the corner of the room as I dunked a few fries in ketchup.
“It’s good,” he said simply.
“Yeah, well, my dad thinks ‘80s rock is the best because it’s the music he grew up listening to. That makes more sense than this. Do your parents love it or something?”
“Probably.”
We were silent for a few moments.
“Is it a big deal?” I asked when I couldn’t take it any longer.
“Huh?” He turned to me.
“Why can’t you tell me where you started to like it? You’re the only person our age that I know of who listens to this stuff.”
“Why do you want to know so bad?”
I lifted my hands. “It’s just conversation. Never mind. I forgot what talking to you feels like.”
“Like what?” He seemed genuinely curious.
“Like a never-ending circle that gets us both nowhere.”
“Maybe you’re just nosy.”
“I don’t need your life history. Just normal stuff. Stuff you’d tell a fr—” My eyes shot to his in panic before I went a different direction. “Stuff you’d tell people you work with.”
He pretended to think. “Alright. How about this for convo? How’s your dad handling your public misconduct?”
I refused to let him see that he had lobbed a direct hit. Instead, I reached over, grabbed the crisp, icy Coke, and took a long luxurious sip. Sighing dramatically, I put the drink back in its place. “He’s probably handling it the same way your parents handled their own son’s misdemeanors. Or were they felonies?” I put a finger to my cheek. “I can’t quite remember.”
“There goes Ivy Brooks, swooping in with her own dodge.” He said the words like a sports announcer on TV.
Before I could gather my wits and wound him with a zinger, he asked, “Can you even admit that you did something wrong?”
My mouth opened before closing again. “Yes. I messed up. I took the wrong pill. In the dark.” A stretch of silence grew between us as we sat. Unable to stand it anymore, I added, “But it was still an accident.”
He snorted. “The chickens getting loose in the school hallway was an accident too. So far, it feels like we’re pretty even.”
I shook my head. “I didn’t know it was a sleeping pill. You can’t possibly tell me that this was even close to the “accidental chickens” or putting the principal’s motorcycle on top of the school.”
“I mean…it’s not as funny.”
“Why did you do all that stuff?”
He shrugged. “Why were you on the student council? Why were you in every club the school offered?”
“Because it looked good on resumes and college applications.”
“Well, I already had a job I loved. I wasn’t planning on going to college. And I already lived on an island. Where was I going to go from there? I was already living the dream.”
I was in Mr. Gray’s class all over again, sitting next to a boy so guarded in everything he did and didn’t say. From what I could tell, he worked in this shop every day of his life. He had friends, but they were always coming to him. Even his parents came to him.
He was a puzzle of heat and ice. And I was one of those kids who used to do puzzles to the sound of an educational TV show in the background.
He motioned to my feet. “You dropped your napkin.”
Confused, I looked down, realizing a second too late what his plans were, but he had already reached over me and grabbed the Coke. He took a long swig before placing the drink down on his other side, away from me.
“I’ll get it back,” I said, picking up my hamburger again.
“Looking forward to it. ”
A strange thrill rose in me at his words, though I didn’t allow myself to linger there. Instead, I stuffed my face with another bite of meat and cheese. We ate in silence for a while, picking at our dwindling pack of fries.
Then, in a moment of perfect delight, a song I’d been waiting to hear for days finally made the cut.
The bold intro to the song “You Give Love a Bad Name” by Bon Jovi blasted through the speakers.
Dax froze. “What the?—“
He grabbed his phone on the counter, ready to turn it off, when I tugged at his arm.
“No, please! I love this song. Can we just listen to it once?”
He gave me a pained expression, but once he saw I was in earnest, he set his phone back down.
“The eighties,” he said. “Looks like you’re a disgrace too, Books.”
I smiled sheepishly, my legs moving to the beat. “Maybe.”
We sat listening for a long moment, and I attempted to keep my hands busy eating fries until I couldn’t help it any longer and busted out an amazing air guitar solo during the chorus. Dax leaned forward, his head in his hands, pretending embarrassment, but I saw him hide a smile.
When the song ended and “Desperado” by the Eagles took its rightful place in the speakers, Dax nudged me. “Why do you like that song?”
I was coming down from the high that song always gave me, and it took a moment to formulate my words. It didn’t make sense at the same time that it made perfect sense.
“It’s one of the few good memories I have with my dad.” I adjusted my position in the seat. “I think I was seven or eight, and he had just gotten elected to be a state rep. It was after we all found out, and this song came on, and my dad picked me up, and we danced around the kitchen to it. We were both laughing.” I paused and bit back a smile. Even now, the memory still made me feel happy. “Anyway, even though I know it wasn’t real, I still love this song.”
“Why wasn’t it real?” His low voice covered me like a warm blanket.
A surprising wetness burned in my eyes before I blinked it back. I would crash into another building before I cried talking about this with him.
“Because it wasn’t me that made him happy. It was still something selfish. I was just the person closest to him after he won. But still, it’s …” I broke off and turned away, attempting to be casual while hiding the tears that were forming.
I didn’t fool Dax, but he didn’t bring attention to my emotions. Instead, he sighed.
“Alright, Books. I have to defend my honor. What’s your question? You get one.”
I sucked in a breath, waiting for him to tell me he was joking. But other than standing up to throw our wrappers in the garbage, he seemed to be waiting for me to ask him something.
“Tick-tock, Caroline. Some of us have work to do.”
I had so many questions for him. One wouldn’t begin to satisfy the curiosity, so I had to choose carefully. He was already rummaging through his tools. Now wasn’t the time for deep and introspective. He’d find a way to brush me off.
“Alright, how did you get into seventies music?”
His hand paused slightly before grabbing a wrench hanging on his pegboard.
“Keith always had it playing in the shop.”
A sad smile came to my face when I thought of the sweet mechanic. He always remembered my name and would have candy for me and my friends in his pocket. Whether I was five or seventeen, I never walked away from him without a butterscotch candy in my hand. The entire town had mourned the loss of Keith to a heart attack three years back.
“Yeah. He was the best. ”
“He was.” Dax’s gaze wandered to the boat he probably wished he was fixing right now, but he stayed where he was. “We got to be pretty close when I worked here in high school.” Dax ran his hand through his hair. “He was…one of the reasons I graduated high school.”
“Why?” I asked.
“There was one time in our junior year when Beau and I broke down one of the ferries ‘cause we were trying to get out of going to school. Remember that?”
“Yeah. I remember the other ferry showed up ten minutes later. We still had to go to school, and you guys got in big trouble.”
Dax laughed. “Yeah, we didn’t think that one through too well. Anyway, Keith found out and told me he wasn’t going to teach me skills like that if I was going to abuse them.” A soft smile touched Dax’s lips before he continued. “He told me I’d always have a job with him, but I had to graduate high school first.”
Dax looked like he was about done talking when he must have remembered the original question. “Anyway, he loved this music. He always had it playing in here. It took a while before I started liking it. Not every song from that decade was a hit, but I have my favorites.”
He had gathered his tools and was about to get back to work, but I wanted more. Always.
“You play it because it reminds you of him?”
He waited a beat. “Maybe a little.”
“Thanks for telling me that.” I gave him a proud smile, to which he rolled his eyes.
“Get to work, Books,” he said, striding toward a riding lawnmower, but not before I caught his lips turning up in a grin.
Later that night, my walls shook as a long knock sounded above my headboard.
Confused, I lay there and listened intently. It wasn’t a random pattern. It felt calculated. If he was doing this to annoy me, he was in big trouble. We had a code. I grabbed my phone.
ME
Are you dying? That was three big knocks in a row.
DAX
It’s your goodnight song.
ME
What is it?
DAX
Can’t tell you.
ME
Can’t tell me, or you can’t spell it?
DAX
I was going to give you two hours if you figured it out, but after that comment, just one.
ME
Do it again.
DAX
Sorry, Books. I only play once a night.
ME
You’re annoying.
DAX
Sweet dreams.