Ally was still dancing with her friends, carefree and happy and so gorgeous I could have died from wanting to be with her. A grand gesture. What did that mean exactly? All I knew was, I had to figure it out. Because I couldn’t spend one more second feeling like this.

jake

“Coach! Can I get into the supply closet? A couple of us want to kick a ball around after school today, and I need guards.”

“Sure thing, Jake. I like the initiative,” Coach Martz said, getting up from his desk. “It’s not everyone who starts practicing for soccer season in May.”

“Yeah, well. You know me,” I replied.

“I do at that.” He got his keys from the top drawer of his desk and lumbered past me out the door.

My heart pounded like I was doing something wrong, even though I knew I wasn’t. It probably wasn’t going to work out anyway. If I were on the outside of this, I’d tell myself not to get my panties in a twist.

Coach opened the door and flicked on the light, which blinked a few times before dimly illuminating the room. Long metal shelves lined either side of the closet. They were packed with everything from bins of tennis balls to forgotten fencing equipment to boxes of ancient trophies no one cared about anymore.

I glanced at Coach Martz. Was he going to hang out and wait for me? Crap. This whole thing was pointless if he did. Then his cell phone vibrated. He whipped it out and checked the screen.

“Take what you need and lock up after yourself,” he said. “I gotta take this.”

I let out a sigh of relief and ducked inside. There was a bin of shin guards and knee pads just inside the door. When I heard Coach’s office door close, I turned toward the back of the closet. I had spotted it one day last year when Hammond and I had been in charge of rounding up cones and nets for soccer drills. I hadn’t even realized what I was looking at then. Now I just hoped it was still there.

On the second highest shelf, right under the trophies, was a long, thin box marked DANCE POMS. I shoved it aside, and there it was. A blue plastic bin with a piece of masking tape stuck to the side. On it, in pencil, someone had scrawled “rings and pins.”

I held my breath. Images of Indiana Jones flashed through my mind. But when I popped the top, no light shone out at me. There was no choir of angels. Just a ton of pins and tie tacks in plastic baggies. Plus three velvet boxes.

I opened up the first one. It was big, with a maroon stone and a football on the side. The second was a gymnastics ring. There was only one left. I took a breath, pried it open, and slowly smiled.

Score.

ally

“Happy birthday, dear Ally! Happy birthday to you!”

My mother set a strawberry shortcake down in front of me at the table, and it was alight with seventeen birthday candles. I looked at the small crowd gathered around me—Mom, Gray, Annie, and Quinn—and I missed my father so much I could hardly breathe. Ever since arriving home from my driver’s test—which I had gleefully passed—that morning, I had been on edge, waiting for the phone to ring. But nothing. Nada. Zip. Where was he right then? Did he even realize it was my birthday? Did he even care?

Mom looked at me sadly, and I knew she knew what I was thinking. She’d gone to so much trouble, with the dozens of colorful balloons, the spaghetti dinner, the colorful paper plates—I hated for her to think I wasn’t happy. So I put on a big grin, took a breath, and blew out the candles. When they all went out with one blow, I thrust my arms in the air, mugging for Gray’s video camera. Just like I was supposed to.

“Yay! You got your wish!” Quinn cheered.

Too bad I’d forgotten to make one.

I pushed myself up from the table, and my mom gave me a kiss and a squeeze. “I’m so proud of you, hon.”

For what? I wanted to say. Making it to the ripe old age of seventeen?

But that was just the acerbic, annoyed, abandoned-daughter part of me talking. So instead I said, “Thanks, Mom.”

“Are you gonna open your presents?” Quinn asked. My mom gave her a quick squeeze, which caused a twinge in my heart. Every time I saw evidence of how close those two were getting, I wanted to hurl. But at least Quinn had gotten nicer as a result. That was something. If I was stuck with her for the entire summer, I was better off with this version of her instead of the stony-silent version.

“Sure.” I headed for the living room area while my mom whisked the cake away to cut it.

“So, what did you wish for?” Annie asked. “And don’t give me any of that ‘if I tell you it won’t come true’ crap.”

“I hope you didn’t wish for the bigger room at the shore house, because that’s mine,” Quinn said, dropping onto the couch.

“Quinn!” her father scolded. “Just for that I should give Ally the bigger room.”

“What? No! Daddy!” Quinn sat forward, whining up at him.

“It’s fine. I don’t need a big room. I’m planning on getting a job and working as many hours as humanly possible.”

“You go, party animal,” Annie said.

I smirked. “Don’t worry. When you come down to visit I promise to party.”

“Really!? I get to come visit? Yay!” She threw her arm around my neck. “So? What did you wish for?” Once she got on topic, she rarely got off until satisfied.

“Nothing,” I said, lifting my shoulders. “I forgot.”

“Well, what were you thinking about right before?” Quinn asked as her father turned his camera on me again. “World peace? Cuz that would be nice.”

Of course it would, future Miss America. I tried to conjure up a good lie, because I wasn’t about to tell her I’d been thinking about my father, but then the doorbell rang.

My heart fluttered, and I looked at my mother across the room. She froze with the cake cutter half inside the cake. Did her stomach suddenly feel like it was going to drop out of her body too?

“I’ll get it!” Gray announced, slapping his viewfinder closed.

“No!” my mom and I blurted.

But he was already at the door. I turned around slowly, holding my breath. Was my father really here? Had I somehow wished him to my doorstep? My blood rushed so loudly in my ears I couldn’t even hear Gray at the door. It was like trying to eavesdrop on the lifeguards from the deep end of the country club pool—which used to be Faith’s and my favorite summertime activity.

Finally, Gray returned, with our guest at his heels. For the first time since returning to Orchard Hill, I was disappointed to see Jake Graydon.

“Hey,” he said.

Tears stung my eyes, and I looked down at my feet. I breathed in slowly and let it out in one, long breath.

Don’t be a baby, Ally. You had to know it wasn’t going to be him.

“Sorry. Is this a bad time?” Jake asked.

A bad time? Was he kidding? What the hell was he even doing here? The last time I’d spoken to him I’d taken off on my bike near tears. What about that encounter screamed, “How about you crash my birthday party?”

“No! Of course not!” my mother said brightly. I wondered how she was going to explain our random outburst to Gray later. And why was she being so nice to Jake? But then, I hadn’t told her about the prom thing. I’d just acted like going with Marshall as friends was all I’d ever wanted, because the truth was too humiliating. “Come on in, Jake.”

Jake’s face was all hopeful. Like, for a second he forgot to act cool. And I kind of liked that. He was wearing a light blue crew-neck sweater and jeans, looking way too handsome for words. There was a small, wrapped box in his hand with a yellow bow on it.

“Actually, I can’t stay,” he said. “I remembered it was your birthday, and I . . .” He looked down at the present, then thrust it at me awkwardly. “Here.”

I took the gift in both hands, at a loss.