“I don’t know,” Manfred said. “I never met him. I don’t know who he was.”

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry! Were you adopted?” She had flushed, which made her look even prettier, he thought.

“Nope. My mom was single, and she never told me anything about my dad.”

“I guess you asked her a lot,” Creek said, obviously feeling her way.

“Over and over, especially when I was little.”

“I’m really sorry,” she said. “I’m assuming you had to find ways to handle that. Were other kids mean about it?”

“I don’t think it would be as bad now, but then, in a sort of rural area, it was pretty tough.”

Creek obviously had a dozen things to say, but she seemed to be thinking twice about all of them. “Well, that sucks,” she said finally.

“Yeah, it kind of did,” he agreed, and they rode the rest of the way to Midnight in silence, working on their Blizzards. Manfred didn’t think the lack of conversation was uncomfortable; he characterized it as thoughtful. He pushed aside his own childhood mystery with the ease of long practice and instead focused on Creek’s. What kind of father keeps two kids chained to a convenience store in a little town that’s almost dead? And then has issues about them eating in restaurants? Manfred noted that was limited to out-of-town restaurants. The Lovells got takeout from Home Cookin regularly.

Manfred was beginning to wonder if there might be something sketchy about Creek’s not getting her scholarship, too. He couldn’t begin to imagine how he could tackle a line of questioning that would confirm or deny that suspicion, so he tucked the idea away for further examination.

He pulled into the convenience store parking lot before five o’clock. The old truck was back, parked over at their house next door, so Shawn and Connor had returned. Manfred debated going in to hand her over to her dad, then realized that would just be weird. She wasn’t eight years old, and this wasn’t a date. Plus, Shawn was probably watching.

“Thanks,” Creek said. “I appreciate the ride and the Blizzard.” She left the DQ cup in the cup holder, Manfred noticed.

“Glad to do it. Ask again,” he said, striving to sound casual. “And by the way, your hair looks great. You get about an inch cut off?”

Surprise flashed across her face. “Yeah,” she said. “I can’t believe you noticed.”

Not getting a lot of attention at home, Manfred noted. “My grandmother always wanted my opinion on her hair,” he said. “That’s what she said, but she really wanted me to tell her she looked great and not a day older.”

Creek laughed. “So you’re saying I shouldn’t believe you when you tell me I look great?”