probably thinking we were a carefree father and daughter, just having a good time at the school’s annual autumn fund-raiser. Little did they know I was basically dying inside. Heck, my dad didn’t even know that.
But tonight was the night. Chloe and Jake were finally going to tell their parents. Tomorrow, I could be planning my boyfriend’s funeral. And I couldn’t stop thinking about it, no matter how many pumpkins I painted onto little kids’ cheeks, no matter how beautiful and sunny a fall day it was.
“Thanks, Faith,” my father said, finally giving up on painting me with his face. He handed her a five-dollar bill and told her to keep the change. “I’ll see you for dinner tonight, Ally?”
“I’ll be there,” I replied, retaking my seat at the face-painting booth.
My dad waved and disappeared into the crowd.
“Your dad is so sweet,” Faith said, watching him go. She was standing next to my chair, wearing skinny jeans and a whiteturtleneck. As soon as we’d opened for business, she had painted a bunny face on herself, complete with a pink nose and whiskers. “I feel bad that I hated him for so long.”
“Yeah. Thanks for that,” I said, fiddling with the set of wax crayons in front of me.
It was nice that my dad had shown up to support the Drama Club’s Harvest Fest booth, something my mother, who worked at the school that was two hundred yards away, hadn’t bothered to do. She was, of course, out with Gray somewhere doing wedding stuff. Sometimes I felt as if Jake had replaced me with Chloe and my mom had replaced me with Gray. It was a good thing my dad didn’t have a girlfriend or I might have started to feel like a seventh wheel.
“Does he know? About Jake and Chloe?” Faith asked.
My heart squeezed tightly in my chest. I felt like I’d been lying to both my parents for weeks. But was it really lying if you just weren’t telling them something?
“Nope.” I sighed.
“Okay, what is your deal?” Faith demanded, slamming the lockbox closed. “You just sighed three times in a row.”
“Just wondering how, exactly, Mr. Appleby is going to execute my boyfriend,” I said lightly, resting my chin on my hand. I had a ghost painted on one cheek, and made sure to keep my fingertips away from it so it wouldn’t smudge. “Is he more of a gun person or a knife person?”
Faith clucked her tongue and reached back to check her braided bun, adjusting a bobby pin near the base. “And they call me a drama queen.”
“Aren’t you even a teeny bit worried?” I asked, raising my voice to be heard over some girl who was shrieking abouther win at the dart booth. “I mean, that man is scary.”
“Okay, yes.” Faith sat down next to me and straightened our tools on the table. “I can’t even imagine how they’re dealing. But no one’s actually going to strangle Jake, right? I mean, Mr. Appleby isn’t certifiable. Just … intimidating. And besides, he forgave your father, right?”
Somehow her logic was not improving my mood. Part of the reason Mr. Appleby had been the first Crestie to forgive my dad for losing scads of money was because he was the only one smart enough not to invest with my dad, or so I assumed. My guess was Jake wasn’t about to get the same kind of leniency. I was about to sigh again, but I caught myself just in time. Kids from school crowded the football field, gathering around the kettle corn booth and clamoring for the next shot at the strongman test. There were some younger moms there with their kids in strollers, most of whom had already dropped a buck for balloons, so colorful orbs bobbed around everywhere. It was festive in that quaint, autumnal Orchard Hill way.
I stared out at the happy faces surrounding me and couldn’t help feeling the tiniest bit jealous. This was my senior year. My last Harvest Festival. Potentially my last fall in Orchard Hill. Shouldn’t I be having fun instead of obsessing about my boyfriend and the girl he’d gotten
But tonight was the night. Chloe and Jake were finally going to tell their parents. Tomorrow, I could be planning my boyfriend’s funeral. And I couldn’t stop thinking about it, no matter how many pumpkins I painted onto little kids’ cheeks, no matter how beautiful and sunny a fall day it was.
“Thanks, Faith,” my father said, finally giving up on painting me with his face. He handed her a five-dollar bill and told her to keep the change. “I’ll see you for dinner tonight, Ally?”
“I’ll be there,” I replied, retaking my seat at the face-painting booth.
My dad waved and disappeared into the crowd.
“Your dad is so sweet,” Faith said, watching him go. She was standing next to my chair, wearing skinny jeans and a whiteturtleneck. As soon as we’d opened for business, she had painted a bunny face on herself, complete with a pink nose and whiskers. “I feel bad that I hated him for so long.”
“Yeah. Thanks for that,” I said, fiddling with the set of wax crayons in front of me.
It was nice that my dad had shown up to support the Drama Club’s Harvest Fest booth, something my mother, who worked at the school that was two hundred yards away, hadn’t bothered to do. She was, of course, out with Gray somewhere doing wedding stuff. Sometimes I felt as if Jake had replaced me with Chloe and my mom had replaced me with Gray. It was a good thing my dad didn’t have a girlfriend or I might have started to feel like a seventh wheel.
“Does he know? About Jake and Chloe?” Faith asked.
My heart squeezed tightly in my chest. I felt like I’d been lying to both my parents for weeks. But was it really lying if you just weren’t telling them something?
“Nope.” I sighed.
“Okay, what is your deal?” Faith demanded, slamming the lockbox closed. “You just sighed three times in a row.”
“Just wondering how, exactly, Mr. Appleby is going to execute my boyfriend,” I said lightly, resting my chin on my hand. I had a ghost painted on one cheek, and made sure to keep my fingertips away from it so it wouldn’t smudge. “Is he more of a gun person or a knife person?”
Faith clucked her tongue and reached back to check her braided bun, adjusting a bobby pin near the base. “And they call me a drama queen.”
“Aren’t you even a teeny bit worried?” I asked, raising my voice to be heard over some girl who was shrieking abouther win at the dart booth. “I mean, that man is scary.”
“Okay, yes.” Faith sat down next to me and straightened our tools on the table. “I can’t even imagine how they’re dealing. But no one’s actually going to strangle Jake, right? I mean, Mr. Appleby isn’t certifiable. Just … intimidating. And besides, he forgave your father, right?”
Somehow her logic was not improving my mood. Part of the reason Mr. Appleby had been the first Crestie to forgive my dad for losing scads of money was because he was the only one smart enough not to invest with my dad, or so I assumed. My guess was Jake wasn’t about to get the same kind of leniency. I was about to sigh again, but I caught myself just in time. Kids from school crowded the football field, gathering around the kettle corn booth and clamoring for the next shot at the strongman test. There were some younger moms there with their kids in strollers, most of whom had already dropped a buck for balloons, so colorful orbs bobbed around everywhere. It was festive in that quaint, autumnal Orchard Hill way.
I stared out at the happy faces surrounding me and couldn’t help feeling the tiniest bit jealous. This was my senior year. My last Harvest Festival. Potentially my last fall in Orchard Hill. Shouldn’t I be having fun instead of obsessing about my boyfriend and the girl he’d gotten
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