Jake stopped. “That’s awesome! You’re doing it, right?”

“I don’t know yet.” I looked down at my feet and kicked at an imaginary pebble. “I don’t think I could handle her criticism.”

He lifted my chin with his thumb. “Hey, she’s one person. Her opinion isn’t absolute.”

“Yeah, Mr. Collins kind of said the same thing.”

“And besides, she can’t be much worse than Zack.”

I laughed, and he put his arm around my shoulder as we walked in silence.

“So do you want to grab something to eat before we study for Jorgensen’s quiz?” I said when we approached our cars. “It’s still cool if I come over, right?”

“I can’t today,” he said with a slight shake of his head. He dropped his arm and shoved both hands into his pockets. “I’ve got, uh, some stuff going on.”

His odd reply made me pause. I studied him out of the corner of my eye. His eyes were downcast, and his eyebrows were scrunched the way they usually were when he was nervous about something. It was as if he was hiding some deep secret, which was why it was so weird. Jake never kept anything from me.

I waited for him to elaborate and finally said, “Okay.” I knew better than to press him for information.

“We can get together tomorrow,” he offered. “I have no idea what’s going on in biology.”

“That’s because you keep falling asleep.” I unlocked my car door and tossed my backpack onto the passenger seat. “So are you going to tell me about this super-secret whatever you’ve got going on?”

“No.” He frowned. “Not yet, anyway.” An almost apologetic look came across Jake’s face. His eyes looked sad, almost guilty. “I kind of want to see where it goes before I tell anyone.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Cryptic much?”

He grinned before he squeezed me in a quick hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said as I climbed into my car.

The change in my afterschool plans meant I’d be going home to an empty house, but since I wanted to look up old Chicago posters, I figured it wouldn’t be such a bad thing. I was surprised to see a strange sedan blocking my spot in the garage when I came home.

I parked beside it and peered into the car for some sign of who its owner was. It was immaculate, like a brand new car. I remembered Mom saying something about calling a real estate agency to have someone look at the house; the car probably belonged to an agent or something. I was glad I’d cleaned my room the night before; I couldn’t imagine anything more embarrassing than having a complete stranger see my dirty clothes strewn all over the place.

“Hello?” I called from the foyer. I figured it was best to announce my presence.

A series of staccato clicks on the tile floor made me feel better. At least Mom had come home early to meet the real estate people. I paused at the bottom of the stairs.

“Talia, honey, I wasn’t expecting you,” she said, kissing me on the cheek. “I thought you’d be studying at Jake’s.”

“Didn’t you get my text?” She shook her head, and I said, “He’s got something going on. But it’s cool. I have some stuff to do for Mr. Collins. He said Mrs. Riley wants me to….” My words trailed off as movement behind my mother caught my attention. When I saw who was coming from the living room with Dr. Griffin, I froze.

It wasn’t a real estate agent.

It was my father.

I hadn’t seen him in five years, but I would’ve known him anywhere. After all, I had inherited a lot of his features, including his straight nose and deep-set eyes. Even my birthmark was like his, only his shock of white hair was prominent at his widow’s peak. He was a little older, more tired than I remembered, but beyond that, he looked exactly the same.

“What’s he doing here?” I demanded in hushed tones.

Mom took me by the arm and tried to turn me away from my dad. “Talia, please don’t freak out.”

I pulled my arm free and glared at her, ignoring her flinch. “I’m beyond freaking out.”

She took a deep breath. “I called him.”

“You what?”

My father smiled and raised a tentative hand in greeting. “Hi, honey!”

I cringed, paralyzed. The right thing — the polite thing — would have been to smile back and rush into his arms for a big, fatherly hug.

Instead, I raced up the stairs, two at a time, and didn’t stop until I locked myself in my room.

Chapter Nine

The woman was relentless. “Talia, open up,” my mom said between raps on my door. “It’s just me. I promise.”

I didn’t move from my bed. “Is he gone?”

“No, and he’s not going anywhere until you open this door and talk to me.”

I picked up a pillow and held it close to my chest as if it was armor. “No.”

“You’re not making this very easy,” she said, and after my doorknob wriggled for a few seconds as she unlocked it, she stood in an open doorway.

“So much for respecting the Fourth Amendment,” I mumbled.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She stepped into my room and stood by my bed. “The Fourth Amendment protects you against unlawful search and seizure, neither of which is happening here.”

“Then you’re breaking and entering. Or trespassing.”

She shook her head. “Not in my own house, I’m not.” Then with a raised eyebrow she added, “But good luck finding a judge to hear that case.”

I tightened my grip on the pillow as she sat on my bed, but I didn’t say anything.

“I had to call your dad to let him know Rob and I got married,” she said with a heavy sigh.

“Like, to rub it in?”

I could’ve sworn she smirked, but she said, “No, because it changes the terms of our divorce settlement.”

Divorce settlement. The words made it sound like it was some kind of business transaction, not the aftermath of a familial implosion. But maybe that’s how my mom was able to deal with everything. It was as though she could distance herself better if she thought of it as another contract negotiation.

I waited for her to continue, but she didn’t elaborate. She reached for my hand and held it for a while before she said, “Your dad said he’d like the terms amended so he can spend time with you. Get to know you again.”

“What did you tell him?” I said, pulling away from her grasp.

She held out her hands, palms up. “I said that would be up to you, but I’d mention it.”

“No,” I said. “Absolutely not.”

“Talia, honey—”

“No,” I said again, much more forcefully. She winced, but I ignored it. “I can’t believe you, of all people, could even think about that. After everything he did to you? After everything he put us through?” I stared at her, my mouth agape. “How can you even think I’d consider that?”

Mom’s head bobbed slightly as she took a deep breath and pressed her lips together. I’d seen this look before when she’d talk to her colleagues. She was getting ready to plead her case. I braced myself for her argument.

“He’s been sober for four and a half years.”

“So?”

“So it’s a start. And,” she pressed when I rolled my eyes with contempt, “he said his therapist is pleased with the progress he’s made overcoming his anger issues.”

Anger issues. That was another watered-down phrase that made my dad sound like a victim instead of what he was. He’s not really a bad guy. He’s just got issues.

I remained adamant. “No.”

“Talia, honey, give him a chance. He’s your father.”

“Sperm donor is more like it,” I muttered.

“Talia!”

I covered my eyes and pressed the balls of my hands into my sockets, not relaxing until colored spots flashed in the blackness. I knew what response she was hoping for. I just didn’t understand how she could have expected me to deliver it.

“You used to be close,” she said quietly.

That much was true. I couldn’t deny it. When I was in elementary school, my dad and I used to do everything together. He’d pick me up from school and take me to his restaurant, and I’d watch him make fresh pasta or turn strawberries into edible miniature masterpieces. But that was so long ago, back when Nicoletti’s was a popular dining establishment. That was before his business partner began stealing money from the nightly tills, before the IRS audits and questions of tax evasion, before the downward spiral that led to his self-medicating and transition into an angry, bitter man. That was before…everything.