“Does he live close by?”

  “Not far. Just in Ajax, the next town over. He’s coming to get me at the end of the dance to drive me there. How are you getting home?”

  “My mom is picking up me and Aaron.”

  The song ended. I almost let out a sigh.

  “Thanks for the dance,” I said.

  The music started up again. A fast song.

  “I love this song!”

  She started dancing. I didn’t really have a choice. I shuffled along with her.

  We were getting close to the last dance of the night. I’d danced a dozen songs or more—all with Tammy—and probably worked up more of a sweat than I had during the basketball game. The current song was long and hard to dance to. Why was it that “Stairway to Heaven” was still being played at the end of every school dance? My dad told me they played it when he was at school. Not that I didn’t know and like it. Led Zeppelin was standard music in my father’s car. It was a much better driving song than it was a dancing song. Without thinking, I started to sing along under my breath.

  “Wait. You know this one?” Tammy asked.

  “From my dad. It’s sort of a classic. I’m surprised you know it.”

  She sang the next line. “One of my father’s faves too. Classic rock is called classic rock for a reason.”

  “Especially around here,” I said.

  “At least it’s not country. This whole place seems like it’s thirty years behind the city.”

  “Only thirty?” I joked. “Do you know that some of the words of this song were inspired by—”

  “Lord of the Rings,” she finished.

  “Yeah, I love Lord of the Rings.”

  “Me too. I’ve probably read the whole series five times.”

  I held up three fingers. “Last year Junior and I did a Lord of the Rings movie marathon. We watched all of them, back to back to back.”

  “That would have taken all day,” she said.

  “The movies run eleven hours and twelve minutes. Plus we needed bathroom and snack breaks. We sat on the couch for thirteen hours straight.”

  “That’s intense. The movies were great, but of course the books are better.”

  “That goes without saying,” I replied.

  “Favorite character?” she asked.

  “Well, I really like the Ents.”

  “They’re pretty good, but is there one character?”

  “Aragorn.”

  “He’s one of my favorites too. You sort of remind me of him.”

  “I do?”

  “He’s the leader. Sort of the captain of the team. Calm, always in control.”

  “Thanks. I guess that makes you Arwen.”

  “That’s quite a compliment, to be compared to the half-Elven daughter of Elrond and Celebrian.”

  “You really know your Lord of the Rings.”

  “Aaron says I’m a nerd.”

  “Your brother’s an idiot. Lord of the Rings is the best.”

  “Agreed. We have a lot in common,” Tammy said.

  I swallowed. “It seems so.”

  “Basketball, music, Lord of the Rings and the fact that we both think my brother is an idiot.”

  “He’s not all bad.”

  “Wait until you get to know him better.” She leaned slightly back so she could look right up at me. “I’m wondering, do you think I’m Arwen because I look like Liv Tyler or because Aragorn has a crush on her and I just compared you to him?”

  My brain slipped into mushy overdrive. Tammy must have noticed, because she laughed as the music rushed into the gigantic solo. As guitar filled the gym, Tammy let go of me and began strumming an air guitar, tossing and flipping her hair. I looked around at the faces. Other kids’ mouths dropped open. Tammy didn’t care what they thought. I shrugged and began smashing away on my air drums alongside her. I wasn’t going to care either.

  “ ‘And as we wind on down the road, our shadows taller than our soul’!” we both yelled out in unison with the music. Tammy put one hand in mine.

  We kept singing, line by line, as other kids on the dance floor looked at us like we were crazy. Tammy grabbed my other hand and started to jump. I grinned at her and began bouncing too.

  The drums kicked in. I let go of her hand and hit my air drums until the music slowed. She kept bouncing up and down and tossing her hair. I grabbed both of her hands and pulled her close for the final line.

  “ ‘And she’s buying a stairway to heaven,’ ” we sang into each other’s ear.

  “I warned you two to leave some room.” Donavan’s mom reappeared like some sort of Ringwraith. “And to a religious song, no less.”

  We erupted in laughter, Tammy’s arms still around my neck and mine on her waist.

  Then it became quiet, and I didn’t know what to do with my hands. I really should have let Tammy go, but I didn’t. I worried I was making things weird by still holding her when there was no music, so I went to take my hands away.

  But Tammy asked, “The dance isn’t over, is it?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. It could be.”

  “And now for the last song of the evening,” announced the DJ, a kid who’d graduated from our school a couple of years back.

  The music came on. I recognized it immediately. “Perfect,” by Ed Sheeran.

  “I love this song,” Tammy said.

  I didn’t let go of her. We started to sway. Her head rested on my shoulder. I put my head against the top of hers. She still smelled good. Like fruit or flowers or something.

  I saw Donavan’s mom out of the corner of my eye, but she smiled, pointed two fingers at her eyes and then at me.

  I didn’t know what to say to Tammy, but maybe I didn’t need to say anything. I listened to the lyrics. This was probably the best song to end the night on. I found myself singing along softly. I didn’t know all the lyrics the way I knew “Stairway,” but I knew enough. Wait, would Tammy think I was singing to her? I didn’t care.

  We were coming to the last few notes. The night would soon be over and I’d be going home and I wouldn’t be holding on to Tammy and I didn’t want the song to end.

  Tammy pulled back and looked up at me. She gulped hard, then bit her bottom lip before she said, “You should do it. If you want to, that is.”

  “I should do what?”

  Tammy turned visibly red even in the dim lighting. She pulled away.

  The song ended, and I realized what she meant. I tilted my head to the side. I worried that my breath might be bad or taste funny, my lips might be dry or I’d have too much or too little spit in my mouth. Maybe my hands would be sweaty or I’d do it wrong or…I closed my eyes and leaned in, found her lips with mine. They were soft, sliding smoothly, our noses bumping gently into each other. She exhaled, and I breathed it in. One of her hands slipped from behind my neck and gripped the front of my shirt. We kissed for probably only a few seconds. But we kissed. My first kiss.

  Donavan’s mom grabbed us by the shoulders. “I warned you two!”

  A bunch of people began cheering. Tammy ducked out of Donavan’s mom’s grip and darted out the gym’s fire doors.

  Junior appeared beside me. I looked down and saw I was standing at center court, my spot.

  “Go after her!” he said into my ear. “Now!” He pushed me. I stepped forward, then ran.

  I went out the same doors into the parking lot and got there just in time to see Tammy getting into the back of a black car. Aaron looked over the roof as he got in. We locked eyes. He glared at me before he got in too.

  I stood staring at the car as it pulled away. Tammy came into focus in the rear passenger window. She brushed her hair away from her forehead, blinked and gave that full-body smile to me.

  Junior, out of breath, ran up behind me, arriving just as my dad pulled up in his Camaro.

  “Dude!” Junior said as he hopped up and down, almost dancing. “O M freakin’ G! That was next level!”

  “Shotgun,” I murmured as I reached for the door handle.

  “Mr. Ryker,” I heard behind me and turned to see Donavan’s mom over my shoulder. “We need to talk about your boy.”

  Fourteen

  Not only did I have to sit silently while Donavan’s mom recounted the night, but then, as we drove, I had to listen to Junior retell his version of events to my dad.

  “If it weren’t for yours truly,” Junior concluded, “none of tonight would have been possible.”

  Stopped at a red light, my dad glanced at me and smirked. The last thing he had said was when he told Donavan’s mom, “It sounds like two kids shared an innocent kiss, but I’ll talk to Jordan.”

  Junior continued, “He was a boss. Beating on his air drums, holding her against him, leaning in and planting one on her.”

  “It really wasn’t like that,” I said quietly, slouched in my seat.

  “That’s enough now, Junior,” my dad said, smirking again out the windshield.

  “If you had been there, Mr. R—”

  “Then I’m sure Jordan would be even more mortified.”

  Junior leaned forward and punched me lightly in the back of my shoulder. “So are you more a Led Head or an Ed Head now?”

  “You going to explain that to me?” Dad asked.

  “He was dancing and going crazy when Led Zeppelin started playing, but the kiss was because of Ed Sheeran,” Junior explained.

  “The Zeppelin makes me proud, but I heard there’s a term for Ed Sheeran fans,” Dad said. “They’re called Sheerios.”

  “Dad! How would you even know that?”

  “I’m old, not dead.”

  My dad and Junior began laughing and stopped only when we pulled up to Junior’s house a few moments later. His mom had probably fallen asleep on the couch, waiting for him.

  I hopped out and released the passenger seat. It jolted forward.

  “Such a Sheerio,” Junior said. He and my dad started laughing all over again.

  Once Junior was inside his house, Dad pulled away, still chuckling.

  “Do you two have to ruin this?” I asked.

  “Did we actually ruin it? It sounds like you made out pretty well.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Busting out the dad jokes now?”

  “You have to admit, the whole thing is kind of funny.”

  “To all of you who didn’t have their first kiss tonight,” I said.

  “I was thinking more of Donavan’s mom’s reaction,” Dad said, all serious. “The more important thing, how was it?”

  “Do you really think I want to talk to my dad about this?”

  “Fair enough.”

  I stared out the windshield and thought about Tammy, the way she smelled, the way her lips slid against mine.

  “It was good. Really good,” I said. Then I remembered the nerves and the other thoughts about bad breath and sweaty hands and doing it wrong. “Mostly good. Can I ask you about this, or are you going to make it weird?”

  My dad pulled over. We were only a few streets from home—my home anyway.

  “You have my undivided attention and my sincere promise that I will try not to make it weird. But you should be prepared, because these types of talks are always at least a little awkward.”

  I bit the inside of my bottom lip. “Fine. But try really hard,” I said. “I guess I have some questions.”

  “Okay.”

  “Do guys normally have a lot of thoughts before kissing? Or is it a first-kiss thing?”

  “What kind of thoughts?”

  I poked the toe of my sneaker at the edge of the floor mat. “About how things could go wrong.”

  “Like kissing wrong? Jordan, there’s no real right way to kiss. You kind of figure out the other person and whether you both like what’s going on as you do it. There’s no science or technique.”

  “Not just kissing wrong. Like, if your breath is fresh and stuff.”

  Dad turned in his seat toward me. “First kisses are supposed to be nerve-racking, especially if you like the person. It’s totally normal to have those thoughts and worries. Once things start, they’ll fade away. And once you’ve had a few kisses, it gets easier.”

  “So you had those thoughts before you first kissed Mom?”

  “More during. I didn’t know if I was doing it right.”

  “But you’d kissed other girls before.”

  My dad shifted in his seat, turning away from me.

  “You already told me you’d kissed other girls before Mom. It’s not some big secret.”

  “Jordan,” my dad said, “I’m not sure this is the right time.”

  “For what?”

  “This conversation,” my dad said.

  “Oh.”

  “We should get back to my place.”

  Strange how he wanted to talk about it, then didn’t.

  He started the engine and went through his checks before he pulled away from the curb. We stopped at the stop sign. I counted to three. We passed by the turn to our old home. It felt wrong.

  “How long do you think you and Mom are going to stay separated?”

  My dad heaved out a breath.

  “Tammy told me her parents separated, but they got back together after a while.”

  “Your mom and I aren’t going to get back together,” he said, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

  “But Tammy’s parents did a bunch of counseling, then got back together and did some more. Maybe you two should really give it a good try.”

  “The counseling isn’t going to help.”

  “If you don’t go, it won’t,” I said. “I overheard you and mom last week. I tried to ask her about stuff, but all she says is you and me have to talk first. What do we have to talk about?”

  Dad signaled and pulled over again, bringing the car to a stop. At this rate we’d never get to his apartment.

  “We’re not Tammy’s parents. Our issues aren’t theirs. Your mom and I aren’t getting back together, not even if we got all the counseling in the world.”

  “But why?”

  “Because I’m tired, Jordan,” he said. “I’m tired, and I can’t lie.”

  I turned sideways in my seat and tucked a leg up under me. “Lie?”

  “I’m going out with somebody,” he said. He dropped his hands onto his lap and looked at them.

  I swallowed, then said, “Tammy’s parents got back together after one of them cheated.”

  “I didn’t cheat,” he said. “I wouldn’t cheat.”

  “It’s only been a couple of weeks since you moved out. If you just met this woman recently, it’s not serious then.”

  Dad looked up at the ceiling. “Even if it’s not serious with this person, it’s still serious. Your mom was the last girl I kissed. She was also the first.”

  “But you said—”

  “I said she wasn’t my first kiss.”

  “But—”

  “I don’t want to lie to you.” He continued to stare at the roof. “This is so tough.” He laughed. “So tough,” he repeated, not laughing. “Jordan, I’m seeing another man.”

  “What? What did you say?”

  I stared at him as he looked up at the roof. He closed his eyes and kept them closed. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and opened his eyes again. He sat up straighter in his seat and turned to look at me.

  “Jordan, I’m seeing a man.” He took a stilted breath. “I didn’t want to tell you this way.”

  My throat got really dry. “How did you plan to tell me then?”

  “I don’t know. I ran through, like, dozens of scenarios. I figured if I hadn’t by the end of the weekend…”

  We watched one another and a million thoughts flooded my mind. He hadn’t really said that. Had he? He was my dad, my sometimes coach, my basketball-playing, car-making, Camaro-driving father, who towered above the other men in town and who was recognized everywhere, who drank beer and cheered at all my games and painted a regulation key on the driveway. My dad who didn’t dress particularly well or know any current music if I didn’t play it for him. My dad who was seeing another man, whose first kiss was with a guy, who had moved out and left my mom and me. Suddenly, somehow, he didn’t look so tall or so big sitting in the driver’s seat across from me.

  “Drive me home,” I said.

  “What?”

  “I want to go home.” Neither of us moved, so I repeated, “I want to go home.”

  He did all his adjustments and checks and signals before he performed a three-point turn and headed back, turning down the streets until we pulled into the driveway. He stopped under the basketball hoop.

  The moment the Camaro was parked, I was out of the car. I pulled the spare key from the hiding spot inside the porch light, unlocked the door and entered the house.

  My mom jumped off the couch, turning to face the door.

  “Jordie, you scared me,” she said as she came into the entryway. “What’s going on? You’re supposed to be with your father.”

  He entered the house behind me. She looked from me to him.

  “Oh,” she said.

  “Yeah,” he replied.

  I was partway up the stairs before my dad caught my arm.

  “Are you mad at me?”

  I tried to pull my arm free. “I don’t know. I went from having my first kiss, which was mostly amazing, to my dad telling me…telling me… ” I couldn’t even find the words to say it.

  “I have to live an honest life, Jordan. What kind of father am I, what kind of example for you, if I don’t?”

  “So our lives are a lie. ’Cause you did lie, Dad.”

  My father dropped my hand. “I spent most of my life trying to lie to myself,” he said. “I doubt that makes you feel any better. But there it is.”

  Mom carried a box of extra linens out to the Camaro and put it in the trunk alongside some of dad’s cooking gear.

  I could see them out on the driveway from where I sat on the stairs. Where my mother had told me to sit.

  She leaned up and kissed my dad’s cheek, then walked back toward the house. She turned and called to him, “Drive safe.”

  I must have been giving her a look or something when she came into the house.

 

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