16 Things I Thought were True Part 12

"Yeah." I take another sip of c.o.ke and smile at him.

"Why're you smiling?" he asks.

"Just that you get it's a big deal. I have a picture of him too. And I found him. He lives in Victoria, BC. In Canada."

He finishes off his sandwich, watching me. "Are you going to call him?"

"No. I'm going to go see him. I want to do it in person," I blurt out and wait for his reaction. I haven't told anyone that part. Not even online. And it's only when I say it out loud that I know I have to. I have a father. I want to show him that I made it, that his rejection didn't break me- not in a way that he'll be able to see, anyhow. I ignore the 75 sixteenthings.indd 75 9/9/13 2:21 PM.

J a n e t G u r t l e r way my stomach twists. I ignore the little girl inside of me who wants to cling to his pant leg and cry and demand to be loved. I'm not that bad...am I?

Adam puts down his drink on the coffee table. I notice a carving in the table. JM + LG.

He pulls an apple from his paper bag and rubs it on his T- s.h.i.+rt.

"So you're planning to go all the way to Canada to drop in on the father you've never met- without warning?"

I take an aggressive bite of the bar. "Yup. Pretty much."

He bites into the apple and some juice squirts out and hits my arm, but we both ignore it.

"Cool?" he says but phrases it like a question.

That makes me laugh. "I want to see his face when I tell him who I am," I say softly. I finish my bar and scrunch the wrapper up in my hand.

Adam watches me as he chews through the apple in big bites.

"What do you hope to accomplish?"

I throw the balled up wrapper at the garbage and it goes in. I take that as a good sign. I believe in signs. Then I bite my lip, embarra.s.sed.

I don't want to tell Adam that I hope my dad will see me and change his mind. I pick at a hangnail on my thumb, and Adam leans forward to toss his apple core in the garbage. He misses and I hide a smile.

"He walked away," he says softly.

I sigh. "I know."

"Well," he says, "I guess anything can happen, but you should be prepared...in case..."

"Did you know it costs over two hundred thousand dollars

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1 6 t h i n g s i t h o u g h t w e r e t r u e to raise a kid to the age of eighteen?" I interrupt before he can say more.

He sips his drink. "No, I didn't." He tilts his head, studying me.

"Is this about money?"

I stare at him. He's looking at me as if he cares, and it's sweet.

He's being rational. I know it. Of course it's not about the money.

It's about me. Me. And Bob. And some stupid hope that I'm cling- ing to. That if he sees me...

"I can handle this," I say. "I just need to figure out a way to get there. To Victoria. It's not that far, but unfortunately, Josh is selling his car, so I can't borrow his. Maybe I'll rent one."

Adam leans back on his couch. "Don't you have to be twenty- one or even older to rent a car?"

"Really?" I unclench my jaw and roll out my shoulders.

"I can drive you," a tiny voice says from behind me.

Amy is standing beside the couch holding a paper tube wrapped in pink cotton candy. The corners of her mouth are bright pink.

"Amy," I say, "this is a private conversation."

She pulls a big chunk of cotton candy off with her tiny fingers.

"You're sitting in the staff room, not the private conversation room.

If you wanted privacy, why didn't you go to your bathroom stall?"

Adam looks at her. I narrow my eyes at her and shake my head.

"Well, I heard. And I can drive. So that's probably a good thing if you really do want to go find your dad."

I glare at her. She doesn't even look old enough to have her driv- er's license.

She walks around the couch so she's in front of me. "I've

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J a n e t G u r t l e r always wanted to go on a road trip." Her cotton candy sticks straight down, almost in my face, but she doesn't take her eyes off me. "It's at the top of my list, like the very top."

"How could you possibly drive?"

She puts her hands out like she's holding a steering wheel with her cotton candy and steers the air. "Um. Like that."

"I mean what car would you drive?"

Her mouth opens and closes, and then she takes a bite of her cotton candy and looks at Adam.

"She has a car," Adam says. "A new Mazda 3 hatchback. It's bright yellow. You can't miss it. I've seen her driving in the parking lot."

I glare at Amy. "You have a new car?"

She pulls off another chunk of cotton candy and looks around the staff room. "Actually, my dad bought it for me," she says, not looking at me.

"You have to give your parents your paychecks for rent. How could your dad possibly manage to afford a car? A new one?"

She makes a snorty giggle sound that's both nervous and awk- ward, and then she looks at me. "I may have exaggerated not being able to afford lunch." Her gaze darts off to the table of red s.h.i.+rts making a huge amount of noise as they snap pictures of themselves. "A little." She glances back at me. "Okay," she says.

"A lot."

"What?" I ask.

She plunks her b.u.t.t down on the couch beside Adam. She glances at him. "Um. I lied." She sighs. "I don't work here for the money,

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1 6 t h i n g s i t h o u g h t w e r e t r u e okay? I thought it might be a good way to make new friends. I was homeschooled until last year, and all the kids at my high school are so...lame." She picks off a strand of pink fluff but doesn't put it in her mouth.

"You don't have to give your parents your paychecks?" I repeat.

"No. My dad, well my mom too, since they're married and all, but my dad made lots of money. I didn't lie about him being an inventor though. He's a software designer. And he's good. Really good. He invented Sour Cats." She hums the theme song to the app that every person in the world seems to have on their phone or tablet.

"Your dad invented Sour Cats?" Adam asks. He turns to me. "I did hear that the guy who invented it lived in Tadita."

"Why? Why would he live in Tadita?" I ask.

"Where are we supposed to live?"

"Hollywood? Hawaii? Beverly Hills?" I suggest.

She shrugs. "My dad likes it here. And my mom grew up in Tadita."

Adam sits up taller and opens his mouth. I raise my hand up to stop him. "How do we know you're not lying again?"

She pouts a little. "I guess you don't." She holds out her cotton candy to me and makes a puppy dog face. "Want some?"

I glare at her.

She sighs and folds over a little in the middle. "I'm sorry. I was so embarra.s.sed that Adam caught me eating from someone's pop- corn, and you looked so judgmental when I told you, so I, uh, made that up so you wouldn't hate me. And then I had to take your money to go with the story. I meant to pay back the five bucks." She stands and digs into a pocket on her skinny jeans and

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J a n e t G u r t l e r pulls out a bill. "With interest." She holds out a ten, but I shake my head.

"Twenty?" She pulls out another bill and leans over the coffee table and puts it in front of me and then sits back down. "Yes. And I can pay for gas for the trip too." She grins and there's a glob of pink cotton candy stuck in her teeth.

I s.n.a.t.c.h the bill from the table and shove it in my pocket to spite her. "A yellow car? For real?"

"I like yellow. It's a happy color." She bounces on her b.u.t.t, clearly excited. "Let me make it up to you. I'll drive you to BC. I can pay for the gas and the hotel."

She grins at me, a sparkle in her eyes. I frown at the excitement on her face, but it dawns on me- she might be the answer I've been looking for.

"Well," I say, "you wouldn't have to pay for everything." Am I actually taking this offer seriously? I don't even know if she's telling the truth for sure. I put my hand up. "Are you serious?" It's happening so fast. And while it's exciting, it terrifies me more than a little.

"Would your parents even let you go?"

"My parents would totally let me go, trust me. They'd be thrilled. Me and a friend on a road trip? They'd be, like, orgas- mic or something!" Her eyes open wider, and she's so honest with her enthusiasm and disbelief that this could happen that I have an urge to hug her close. I know what's it's like to be lonely.

I know what it's like to have a parent who worries about me not having friends.

I chew my lip. "Are you really serious?"

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