Even seeing Cassie in the hall doesn't bring me out of my funk. Last night with the awkward silences and the heaviness that weighed down the air is still very much on my mind.

Albie stayed until eleven, an hour after I turned in. I stood at the door listening to them talk. Albie is and has always been the only one who can get my dad to talk. He doesn't put up with any bullshit or excuses from Dad.

"Dean, I swear, I can't go down this path with you again. It's not just you who'll suffer this time. You gotta think about Rory."

"You don't think I know that?"

"Well, did it occur to you while you were knocking back Budweiser's with Dewey?"

Silence.

"Goddamn it, man. When you're feeling like this you have got to communicate. Shit, if you don't want to call me, call Charla. Call your dad. Call 911. Jesus, just call someone," Albie says, then his voice is quieter. "What did you say to Rory?"

"Nuthin'."

"He wants an explanation. Hell, Dean, he deserves one."

I hear the creak of the floor boards and can picture my dad pacing.

"It was just this once, Albie."

Despite the tension, I hear Albie laugh softly. "Yep, maybe it was. Look, I gotta get home. I'm sure Denise is going to want the full rundown."

"I know I'm wasting my breath, but tell her not to worry."

When I hear the front door close, I tiptoe over to my bed and crawl under the covers.

Dad pauses by my door and opens it slightly. "Night, son."

I don't answer, just pretend to sleep.




The guys are still pretty pissed with me. I tell myself it'll pass. If I show them I'm serious about basketball, that I will put the team first from now on, it will work itself out.

I pull my books out of my locker and push them haphazardly into my back pack. But as I am, I notice a little slip of pink paper sticking out of one of my notebooks. Unfolding it, I stare in disbelief as I read it.

HI. LUV YA, CASSIE

What's more, she drew a smiling face with the tongue sticking out. Suddenly, I'm on top of the world. Cassie has given me a note. Luv ya. Wow.

"What are you smiling at?" Taylor says as he checks out his biceps in the mirror.

"Cassie slipped a note in my book."

Taylor snorts a quick laugh. "No way. She must have thought it was someone else's notebook. She is way too hot to mess with you. No offense."

"She knew it was mine."

"She is such a stuck up bitch, though. She's just messing with you."

"No she isn't."

"Yeah, well, last summer she got Dalton Wills to take her to the country club pool. Ten minutes after they get there, she has him tossed out. Made some claim that he was getting all handsy and trying to force himself on her. He got fired."

"Maybe he did try to force himself on her."

"We're talking about Dalton, king of the nerds. Turns out she was hot after Brody Blankenship. She hooked up with him that afternoon. That girl's a bitch, Rory. Forget her."

His words hit like icy sleet against my ears. Maybe she did get Dalton thrown out, but there's more to the story. There are always two sides to everything.

"Well, I'm taking it as a sign."

"What? You think she likes you?"

Not quite confident enough to say yes, I shrug. "Sure, why not?"

"Because you are you, Rory. And Cassie is Cassie."

I don't look up at him, just concentrate on getting all of my stuff in my bag. I heave the pack onto my shoulder and walk a few feet away. Without turning around I say the only thing I can come up with.

"She didn't put a note in your book. I'm gonna ask her out."

Taylor laughs, and when I finally do met his gaze he's smiling. It's a mix of admiration and mockery. "You do that, French. And when you figure out that she's everything I said she was, you come to me. I'll be your shoulder to cry on."



Dad is down by the creek when I get home. Taylor's mom was nice enough to give me a ride.

"Dad, what are you doing down here?"

"Thinking about how we never have really good steak."

"Okay."

It was an odd thing to hear but then my dad is a strange character.

"So, what do you say?"

"About?"

"Steaks. Lets go to Fillburns Steak House and have dinner."

Sounds pretty darned good to me. After practice I'm always hungry and the thought of a juicy steak is tantalizing to say the least. "Let me go clean up," I yell as I toss my back pack towards him.

I take the quickest shower I have ever taken and I'm back down the hall meeting him at the front door as I pull my shirt on.

"Damn, boy. You've got a six pack," he laughs.


I lift my shirt enough to see my stomach. "It's from basketball."

"I don't remember having one at fifteen."

"You sure you ever had one?" I tease.

He shakes his head and next thing I know I'm in a headlock. "Keep mouthin' off, junior." He lets me go and ruffles my hair like I'm five years old.

We get in the truck and drive in silence for ten minutes before I finally work up the nerve to speak.

"So, what's the occasion?"

"Occasion?"

"Why Fillburn's on a Monday night? You get a raise?"

Dad shakes his head and his dark hair flutters ever so slightly. A couple of silver strands shimmer to the surface.

"Oh, man, Dad, you've got gray hair."

He glances in the rear view mirror. "I've seen 'em."

Silence again for a few minutes, then I remember he never did answer my question. "So, why are we giong to Fillburn's? And don't say for steak. I know there has to be another reason."

He shifts, leaning against the truck door, one hand on the wheel and the other crooked on the panel beneath the window.

"I guess I figured we needed to talk."

Maybe we do. Maybe he wants to clear the air. Whatever the reason, I am going to use it as a chance to ask him some questions that he won't be able to run away from.