“I’m so glad you came by!” he practically shouts, and I realize that he’s nervous. “Are you hungry?” He starts rummaging around the kitchen, looking in cupboards.

“No, I’m fine.” I sit down at the kitchen table, and the cat winds around my leg. I trace a circular pattern of wood grain on the table with my finger. Dad finds some cheese and crackers and organic lemonade and busies himself bringing it over to the table.

“How’s school?” he asks, handing me a glass.

“Uh, good. Good, good.” I am nodding. There’s a pause. He’s smiling at me. “Um. Well, not great, actually.” Oh God. I look up at the ceiling as the tears start.

“Oh. Oh, honey.” Dad comes over to me, giving me an awkward hug that puts my face in his armpit, but it doesn’t matter, because it’s really nice, actually. He crouches down and looks at me, wipes tears from under my eyes with his rough thumbs. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “I just wish everything was different.”

“Yeah, I get that. I remember high school. It’s a tough place.”

I find it hard to imagine my dad having a tough time as a kid.

“It gets better, you know. You just have to find your people. You’ve got Lottie, right?”

I take a deep breath and let it out, the last of my tears coming out shakily. “I guess. I thought I did, but I dunno.”

“Oh, now,” he chuckles, “you two have had your bumps before, right?” He gives my shoulders a little shake. “It’s just a phase.”

“Uh-huh.”

A few seconds go by, and he’s rubbing my back. I see him glance at the clock, and I jump up.

“Yeah. Thanks, Dad. It’s okay. I’m just being dumb. I … I should probably go.”

“Really?” He stands, runs a hand over his face. “Okay, honey. Want me to drive you anywhere?” He is being so nice that I almost start crying again.

He drives me to the bus station, chattering away about this and that, giving me money and a huge hug when I get out.

“I love you, Stevie. It’s gonna be all right.” He grabs my shoulders and looks me in the eye. “I promise. Okay?”

I nod. “Okay.”

I stand in line for the bus with my ticket, and he waves as he drives away, the music from his radio fading. Soon enough it feels like it didn’t happen, like I have never not been standing here alone.

*   *   *

The next day, I’m on my way to school, keeping to myself, aware of the potential threats everywhere, a cacophony of anxiety in my head.

But in the middle of all the noise, there’s one person I can’t figure out.

I am on alert, listening for her.

I walk through my neighborhood, waiting to hear.

Dee.