Dad shakes his head. “Good for Kiera,” he says. But I know what he’s not saying. Mr. Bryant, who Mom calls a “polarizing personality,” and Dad have been friends since Dad moved back here with Mom after she was done with college. Unfortunately for Dad, though, Mr. Bryant didn’t take it too well when Dad explained to his bowling team why he and Mom were getting a divorce.

Oscar looks at me meaningfully. He’s the only person I’ve told about Dad, and there’s nothing Oscar respects more than a secret, especially one this huge.

“Breakfast is served!” says Dad, placing a plate of waffles in front of us. He claps his hands together. “We’ll drop Oscar off and then pick out a present for Kiera’s birthday party?”

I look to Oscar. I know he’s dying to go to Trampoline Zone, and he was willing to skip the whole thing just for me. If I think about it, I guess I kind of was invited. I mean, Mrs. Bryant said so.

I nod. “Okay.”

I know it’s a bad idea, but something about that letter from last night spurs me to say yes.

Chapter Eleven

It’s the Thought That Counts

When I was little, I used to do this thing when I went shopping for birthday presents where I would just buy all the things that I really wanted that Mom wouldn’t let me get for myself. So that meant when Mom wasn’t really paying attention, Dusty got a Harry Potter cloak when the only thing he cared about was Pokémon and Alyssa got a water-balloon gun even though she cried when she got her hair wet at field day.

I guess you could say I’ve grown up a little bit, but sometimes I still love present shopping because it gives me a chance to buy things I think are cool even when I don’t get to keep them. But if I’m going to go to the trouble of buying a present for Kiera, I’m at least going to use it as an opportunity, which is why my dad asked me if I was totally 100 percent sure when I skipped up to the register with a lint roller, a book called The U in Puberty, and deodorant.

“Sweet Pea,” Dad says, eyeing me suspiciously. “That doesn’t seem like a very thoughtful gift. What about a game? Or maybe some of that flavored lip gloss you’re always asking me for?”

“Trust me,” I say. “Kiera will love this. We’re both cat lovers.” I hold up the lint roller. Which is totally true, actually. Kiera has a tuxedo cat named Domino who has one extra toe on his back left paw. “And one can never have too many lint rollers.” I point to the deodorant on the conveyor belt. “This is rose scented. She’ll love it. Here, smell it.”

Dad pulls back. “Uh, no thanks. I’m good.”

I hold up the book. “And Mom is always saying we should all be more in touch with our bodies.”