Sigh.

“Reward for good interviewing.” My whole body jostled as my dad ruffled my hair. I caught my balance on the kitchen table.

“You can’t fail bio,” said my dad. “Need you for L-W.”

“I’ll be fine.”

L-W meant Littleton-West, a.k.a. the most important game of the regular season, according to my dad, since our rivalry with them went back to before he’d even started coaching twenty years ago. Leave it to my dad to think of my school performance in terms of athletic eligibility.

Now the hard part. I took the stairs two at a time up to my room. Somehow, I had to get ready for my date with Eliza in a way that made it look like I tried for her, only in a way that no one else would be able to tell I tried.

A quick shower helped calm my nerves, though my razor still shook as I tried to do a light shave (though I wouldn’t have been able to do more than that anyway). I threw on some musky aftershave, my favorite jeans, a relaxed T-shirt, and, at the last minute, my Red Sox hat. The majority of the times I’d flirted with Eliza, I’d worn my hat. Who knows, maybe it served the dual function of keeping me casual and irresistible.

At 5:30, I hurried down the stairs, with my bio notebook and a fleece blanket stuffed in my backpack.

“See ya at 9:30,” I called. Carter’s house was a ten-minute bike ride away, but I had to pick up some things first.

At 5:40, I reached the grocery store. Time to pick out the ingredients for a perfect first date.

At 5:52, my backpack was full, making it difficult to bike up the half-mile hill to the OCs’ house. The sun was finishing its descent into the night, but the dark yellow and orange backdrop would still suffice.

At 6:01, I texted Eliza that I’d arrived. Ringing the doorbell was too risky, since Carter might have answered it. I paced at the bottom of their back porch.

“Hey!” Eliza scanned the driveway, to make sure we were alone. “Where are you taking me?” She hopped down the porch stairs, stopping abruptly. “I don’t know the appropriate way to greet you.”

“Come here.” I grabbed her hand and led her to a thick, mossy tree on the edge of their property. Its trunk took eight people to wrap their arms around, and its sprawling branches provided great hiding spots (especially when playing with water guns). The last light was enough to see each other with, but not enough for anyone from inside the house to see outside.

Carter and I had spent many afternoons trying to see who could climb the highest in that tree without Ms. O’Connor seeing what we were up to. It would have given her a heart attack.

My backpack dropped onto the grass, crunching the leaves of fall. I pulled out the blanket, a few types of cheese, some crackers, grapes, bite-size brownies, and sparkling apple juice.