How (Not) to Fall in Love(5)

10. Her dad can’t afford the tuition anymore since he’s a QUITTER.

9. Repo Girl can barely afford the bus pass.

8. Woodbridge isn’t a school for spawn of criminals.

7. She’s

6. a

5. L

4. O

3. S

2. E

1. R

Chloe Hendricks had outdone herself. The photoshopped pic of my dad’s face had devil horns and blacked-out teeth. And dollar signs for eyes. Chloe had never liked me, maybe because it was easy for her to pick on a mouse like me.

“You need to report her,” Sal growled, tearing the sign off my locker.

“For what? Not being as funny as Letterman?” I tried to sound sarcastic, but failed miserably.

I’d hoped no one had watched Letterman last night. He’d used my dad as the butt of his Top Ten list. He must’ve been inspired by the CNN story stating my dad was on a leave of absence, combined with all the crazy rumors swirling on the internet.

Sal tore the sign into strips, making a big production of it for the crowd watching us.

Mark joined us at my locker. “Is it still a rule, that guys can’t hit girls? ’Cause I want to.”

I almost smiled at him. He was as big as a truck but he had a soft, squishy center, at least for Sal and me, if not for Chloe. “No, you don’t. And yes, it’s still a rule.”

He shook his head, huffing out a sigh. “I could key her car. Slit her tires.”

“No.” I punched him in the shoulder. “Go pick on someone your own size.”

He grinned at me. “There is no one my own size. At least not here.”

“You’re too nice, Darcy,” Sal said, glowering at me as she crumpled the remains of the sign and tossed it in the trash.

“Not really,” I said. “Mostly I’m a big chicken. Have you seen her claws? Plus she probably has rabies.”

The warning bell for class rang. Mark and Sal engaged in major PDA, then he took off for PE.

Sal hugged me before we went our separate ways. “Someday karma will bite that bitch in the ass.”

I shrugged. I wasn’t sure I believed in karma anymore. Mom and I sure didn’t deserve what was happening to us.

In the three weeks since Dad had disappeared, we’d been swimming upstream against a raging river of chaos, but at least we’d kept things a secret. No one knew that Tri!Umphant! Harvest had frozen our bank accounts, after Mom had spent days meeting with the board. Or that Dad had gone Kerouac, hitting the road with no destination, sending us random postcards. Or that J.J. had suddenly developed a Jekyll and Hyde personality, and was only showing scary Mr. Hyde to us.

Now everyone knew about my dad, including my long lost Uncle Charlie, who’d called last night after he saw Letterman. I’d answered the phone since Mom was passed out on the couch.

That was another new secret: Mom drinking herself to sleep almost every night.

I’d almost reached the library when my phone vibrated in my pocket. I didn’t recognize the number. My heart leaped, hoping it was finally Dad.

“Hello?” I slid into a tiny hallway alcove where no teachers could yell at me for being on my cell.

“Darcy? Is that you?” His voice sounded different, not quite himself.

“Dad! Where are you?” My heart ricocheted in my chest.

“Darcy, it’s Charlie. Your uncle.”

My heart had slowed way down. “Oh.” My voice was barely a whisper.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, if you thought I was him.” He sounded sad and worried.

“It’s okay.” That had happened last night, too. Who knew brothers could sound so alike? I tried to remember the last time I’d seen Dad’s younger brother or even talked to him. I’d been a little girl. I barely remembered his ponytail and scruffy beard. But he always sent a special gift for my birthday. And he laughed a lot; I remembered that much.

“I called your mom again today, but she hasn’t returned my calls.” I’d given him both our cell numbers last night.

She’s probably still in a wine coma, said my inside voice. But my outside voice said, “I’ll remind her to call you.” Right. Like Mom would call.

He sighed into the phone. “Please do. And you can, too, Darcy. Anytime.” He hesitated. “You should come see me. At my shop.”

“Yeah.” My dad hated that Charlie worked in a crummy pawn shop in the ’hood, as Dad called it. “But I don’t have a car anymore.”

“You don’t? What happened?”

I sighed into the phone. “It’s a long story.”

It was his turn to sigh. “Let me think about this, and get back to you.”

“Okay.” I shrugged, like he could see me. What was he going to do? See if his pawn shop had any spare cars lying around?

We said our good-byes, and I snuck into a quiet corner of the library and shoved in my earbuds. I should’ve listened to music, something to calm the stress balloon expanding in my stomach. But instead I pulled up Letterman on YouTube.

On my tiny phone screen, Dave smirked. Up popped his Top Ten list from last night, which he read aloud while his studio audience laughed and applauded.

The Top Ten Reasons Tri!Umphant! Tyler Covington is in Hiding:

10. He didn’t get the memo that self-help gurus are a relic of the 20th century.