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He squeezed some dish soap onto his plate and swirled it around with the
brush。 〃And you're sure you can't make it back in time for the dance？〃
〃I'm not going to the dance； Dad。〃 I glared。
〃Didn't anyone ask you？〃 he asked； trying to hide his concern by focusing
on rinsing the plate。
I sidestepped the minefield。 〃It's a girl's choice。〃
〃Oh。〃 He frowned as he dried his plate。
I sympathized with him。 It must be a hard thing； to be a father； living
in fear that your daughter would meet a boy she liked； but also having to
worry if she didn't。 How ghastly it would be； I thought； shuddering； if
Charlie had even the slightest inkling of exactly what I did like。
Charlie left then； with a goodbye wave； and I went upstairs to brush my
teeth and gather my books。 When I heard the cruiser pull away； I could
only wait a few seconds before I had to peek out of my window。 The silver
car was already there； waiting in Charlie's spot on the driveway。 I
bounded down the stairs and out the front door； wondering how long this
bizarre routine would continue。 I never wanted it to end。
He waited in the car； not appearing to watch as I shut the door behind me
without bothering to lock the deadbolt。 I walked to the car； pausing
shyly before opening the door and stepping in。 He was smiling； relaxed —
and； as usual； perfect and beautiful to an excruciating degree。
〃Good morning。〃 His voice was silky。 〃How are you today？〃 His eyes roamed
over my face； as if his question was something more than simple courtesy。
〃Good； thank you。〃 I was always good — much more than good — when I was
near him。
His gaze lingered on the circles under my eyes。 〃You look tired。〃
〃I couldn't sleep；〃 I confessed； automatically swinging my hair around my
shoulder to provide some measure of cover。
〃Neither could I；〃 he teased as he started the engine。 I was being
used to the quiet purr。 I was sure the roar of my truck would scare me；
whenever I got to drive it again。
I laughed。 〃I guess that's right。 I suppose I slept just a little bit
more than you did。〃
〃I'd wager you did。〃
〃So what did you do last night？〃 I asked。
He chuckled。 〃Not a chance。 It's my day to ask questions。〃
〃Oh； that's right。 What do you want to know？〃 My forehead creased。 I
couldn't imagine anything about me that could be in any way interesting
to him。
〃What's your favorite color？〃 he asked； his face grave。
I rolled my eyes。 〃It changes from day to day。〃
〃What's your favorite color today？〃 He was still solemn。
〃Probably brown。〃 I tended to dress according to my mood。
He snorted； dropping his serious expression。 〃Brown？〃 he asked
skeptically。
〃Sure。 Brown is warm。 I miss brown。 Everything that's supposed to be
brown — tree trunks； rocks； dirt — is all covered up with squashy green
stuff here；〃 I plained。
He seemed fascinated by my little rant。 He considered for a moment；
staring into my eyes。
〃You're right；〃 he decided； serious again。 〃Brown is warm。〃 He reached
over； swiftly； but somehow still hesitantly； to sweep my hair back behind
my shoulder。
We were at the school by now。 He turned back to me as he pulled into a
parking space。
〃What music is in your CD player right now？〃 he asked； his face as somber
as if he'd asked for a murder confession。
I realized I'd never removed the CD Phil had given me。 When I said the
name of the band； he smiled crookedly； a peculiar expression in his eyes。
He flipped open a partment under his car's CD player； pulled out one
of thirty or so CDs that were jammed into the small space； and handed it
to me；
〃Debussy to this？〃 He raised an eyebrow。
It was the same CD。 I examined the familiar cover art； keeping my eyes
down。
It continued like that for the rest of the day。 While he walked me to
English； when he met me after Spanish； all through the lunch hour； he
questioned me relentlessly about every insignificant detail of my
existence。 Movies I'd liked and hated； the few places I'd been and the
many places I wanted to go； and books — endlessly books。
I couldn't remember the last time I'd talked so much。 More often than
not； I felt selfconscious； certain I must be boring him。 But the
absolute absorption of his face； and his neverending stream of
questions； pelled me to continue。 Mostly his questions were easy； only
a very few triggering my easy blushes。 But when I did flush； it brought
on a whole new round of questions。
Such as the time he asked my favorite gemstone； and I blurted out topaz
before thinking。 He'd been flinging questions at me with such speed that
I felt like I was taking one of those psychiatric tests where you answer
with the first word that es to mind。 I was sure he would have
continued down whatever mental list he was following； except for the
blush。 My face reddened because； until very recently； my favorite
gemstone was gar。 It was impossible； while staring back into his topaz
eyes； not to remember the reason for the switch。 And； naturally； he
wouldn't rest until I'd admitted why I was embarrassed。
〃Tell me；〃 he finally manded after persuasion failed — failed only
because I kept my eyes safely away from his face。
〃It's the color of your eyes today；〃 I sighed； surrendering； staring down
at my hands as I fiddled with a piece of my hair。 〃I suppose if you asked
me in two weeks I'd say onyx。〃 I'd given more information than necessary
in my unwilling honesty； and I worried it would provoke the strange anger
that flared whenever I slipped and revealed too clearly how obsessed I
was。
But his pause was very short。
〃What kinds of flowers do you prefer？〃 he fired off。
I sighed in relief； and continued with the psychoanalysis。
Biology was a plication again。 Edward had continued with his quizzing
up until Mr。 Banner entered the room； dragging the audiovisual frame
again。 As the teacher approached the light switch； I noticed Edward slide
his chair slightly farther away from mine。 It didn't help。 As soon as the
room was dark； there was the same electric spark； the same restless
craving to stretch