But Evy had been lucky. For one thing she was petite, like her mom, and though she did have most of her dad’s facial features—except his mouth—none of them dominated. By some biological sleight of hand, resized and repositioned, they all worked attractively together.

Hurrying back in, Evy jumped on the bed.

“So come on, what happened?” Annie said. Evy had started to tell her about a recent date before she had run off to the bathroom.

“Don’t know why I liked him,” Evy resumed. “Anyway, he started holding my hand in the movie. Just like that. I didn’t really want him to, but I didn’t know what to do. His hand was so sweaty. It was gross.”

“Did you kiss him?”

“He wanted to play padiddle when we were driving back. Told him I was feeling carsick.”

“Why’d you go out with him in the first place?”

“Well, he kinda looks like Marlon Brando.”

“How old is he?”

“I thought he was eighteen, but he’s really old. He’s like twenty-three.”

“Jeez. Your dad would kill you.”

“Kill him, more like.”

Annie could hardly imagine Evy on a date and wasn’t sure if she believed her. Though Evy was only a few months from turning fifteen, she looked no older than twelve.

“So”—putting her hand on Annie’s, Evy widened her eyes in an exaggerated manner—“when are you and Lew going to get hitched?”

Annie shrugged.

Evy frowned, annoyed. “I tell you everything, Annie. You never tell me anything.”

She pulled her hand away, but Annie snatched it back. “I adore Lew,” she said, “but I don’t know if I could marry him, really. I don’t know if I could marry anyone.”

“You’ve got to marry someone,” Evy said. “If you could marry anyone in town, who would it be?”

“Who would you marry?”

Evy smiled. “You won’t be mad?”

“Mad?” Annie realized who Evy was talking about. “Oh, no, I’d love you to marry him.”

“Your brother is such a dreamboat. So what about you?”

“If it was anyone apart from Lew…Raj.”

Evy let out a shriek and made a grimace, squirming her body as if something disgusting were clinging to it. “God, could you imagine what your parents would do? Seriously, though, Annie, who?”

The door opened and Mrs. Burger walked in. “Annie, honey, Greta’s going to take you back. Your mom just called. Your dad’s truck has blown a piston or something, and she doesn’t know where Frank is.”

Annie jumped up off the bed.

“She told you not to worry, honey. She’s sure Frank just forgot.”

When Annie got home, her mom and dad were in the hallway, standing at the bottom of the stairs.

“Where’s Frankie?”

Her mom was holding one hand over her mouth; with the other she pointed upward.

“Why didn’t he—?”