Busted by Antony John Page A

Absolutely.”
    â€œGreat. Well, this was nice.”
    She does one final pirouette and wanders out of the woods.
    I’m trying to keep up with what just happened. It seemed like we’d made a real connection. But I don’t want to sound desperate—even though I am—so I just trot along behind her.
    As she gets into the car I notice a bumper sticker emblazoned against the Beetle’s red paint: I have PMS and a handgun. Any questions?
    â€œIs that bumper sticker true?”
    Jessica puts the keys in the ignition. “Which part?”
    â€œUm, the bit about you having a gun.”
    She laughs. “Is that what scares you the most?”
    â€œYeah, of course.”
    She laughs again. “Then you don’t know girls at all, Mr. Mopsely.” She’s facing the passenger seat as if I were already sitting next to her. “That’s really an elementary—”
    I don’t hear what comes after that because she’s driven off without me, although she continues talking to the invisible Kevin Mopsely all the way out of the parking lot.
    In the hour it takes me to walk home, I wonder how long our conversation lasted before she noticed I wasn’t even there.

17
    I t’s been two months since I’ve seen my dad, although he only lives twelve miles away. Like most realtors, he shows open houses on the weekends, and I can’t say I’ve felt much of an urge to see him, anyway. Until now, that is.
    Over the last two weeks my life has taken several strange turns for the better, but I can’t share the good news with the two people I talk to the most: Mom and Abby. They’d both freak out and they’d both hate me and I’d still have to face them every day. This is just the kind of situation where absent, adulterous fathers come in handy.
    He’s supposed to pick me up at lunchtime, but lunchtime comes and goes and we don’t hear from him. Mom pretends that nothing is out of the ordinary because she tries not to badmouth Dad to my face, but by four o’clock I call his cell phone to tell him that she’s dropping me off at his house. He doesn’t answer, which means he’s ignoring me because he always keeps his cell phone on. I leave a message telling him I’ll be there in half an hour.
    I know it kills Mom to have to drive me over to his new home. It’s actually his girlfriend’s house, but by the time he admitted to his extracurricular activities, he’d pretty much moved in there already. It’s in a new, suburban gated community for middle-class people who believe that everyone’s out to get them. Dad must feel quite at home.
    When we pull up to the gates, I’m surprised to see that he’s already waiting for me. He waves halfheartedly and wanders over to our car. Mom gets out before I can stop her.
    â€œHey, Kevin,” says Dad. “We’ll be heading right out, okay? Things to see, people to do, you know.” He laughs at his own wit. “Hello, Maggie.”
    He swoops in to peck Mom on the cheek, but as he does she sniffs the air suspiciously.
    â€œHave you been drinking, Darrell?”
    Dad rolls his eyes. “Just drop it, okay?”
    â€œNo, I won’t drop it. You know I don’t like you driving when you’ve been drinking.”
    â€œIt’s just one drink—”
    They continue to bicker, but I’ve already heard enough, so I pick up my bag and let myself into the passenger side of Dad’s car. Mom doesn’t realize what I’ve done, but Dad notices and as soon as I’m inside he waves goodbye and hustles over to join me. Before Mom can protest further, we’re pulling out into traffic.
    â€œChrist, that was annoying.” Dad slaps the steering wheel for ef fect.
    â€œWell, we haven’t had many of these family reunions yet. Maybe it’ll get easier over time.”
    â€œYeah, sure,” he snorts. “And maybe she’ll