Inevitable and Only(56)

But when I jumped off the edge of the stage after my scene, there he was, waiting by my backpack.

“Hey,” he said, “that was fantastic.”

“Oh! Thanks!” I said, flustered. “Have you been watching this whole time?”

He nodded.

“But—you’re not called tonight.”

“I know, but I had to blow you off last night, so I owe you a rain check.”

“Nah, you don’t owe me anything. Don’t worry about it.”

Zephyr rubbed his chin, a gesture I was starting to recognize as something he did when he felt self-conscious. “I thought we had plans. That’s why I came to pick you up.”

“Oh!” I couldn’t think of anything else to say, and Robin was glaring daggers at us for talking during rehearsal, so I slung my backpack over my shoulder and we ducked up the aisle.

“Still want ice cream?” Zephyr said, once we were outside the Shed. “Or … would you consider something else?”

“Like what?”

He spun his car keys around one finger. “I haven’t had dinner yet, I’m starving. Do you like sushi?”

“Ugh. I’ve never had it. I’m a vegetarian.”

He grinned. “Oh-ho, one of those. Well, you can get avocado rolls, or soup, or noodles. Or we can go somewhere else.”

Adrenaline zinged through me. Zephyr Daniels wanted to have dinner with me? Before I could second-guess myself, I said, “No, you know what? I want to try sushi. It sounds fun.” And by fun, I meant sophisticated and New York. Aka perfect.

I called home and checked in with Mom, who said it was fine as long as I was home by 9:30. So we climbed into the orange Beetle and zoomed down St. Paul Street. Zephyr parked on 33rd and led me toward a set of stairs right off the street, next to a sign that said SUSHI BELOW. The restaurant was in a basement, apparently. I followed him down the stairs, and when he pushed open the door, I was startled by a burst of blue light. The foyer was decked out with fish ponds and colorful floodlights, rock sculptures and pink flamingos and fake palm trees. The waitresses all wore neon pink-and-green or yellow-and-blue kimonos, which clashed with their beehive hairdos and cat-eye glasses, and the soundtrack to Hairspray was playing quietly in the background.

Zephyr swept a hand out in front of us, encompassing the whole scene. “What do you think?”

“Very Baltimore,” I said, nodding in approval.

The hostess seated us in the back corner—perfect for people watching. I noticed Zephyr glancing around the room, too.

“Do you like people watching?” I asked.

“Oh, I’m incurable.” Zephyr sounded like a book sometimes. As if he hadn’t played with other kids much when he was little. Maybe he was an only child.

I decided to ask. “Do you have brothers or sisters?”

He hesitated for the briefest second, then shook his head. “What about you?”

“One brother.” I hesitated, too. “And—one half sister. She just moved here. My parents didn’t even know she existed until a couple months ago. Things have been kind of rough lately.” Once I’d started talking about it, the words tumbled out. “My dad and I were always super close, but now it’s like we’re on opposite teams, because he has this giant secret I never knew about, and somehow I’m getting closer with my mom even though I can’t stand her most of the time, and she and my dad aren’t talking to each other at all.” I made myself stop before I blabbed my entire life story.

Zephyr didn’t look freaked out, though, just concerned. “Wow, ‘rough’ sounds like an understatement.”

I felt my face heating up, so I picked up a menu. “Yeah. Well. Time to drown my sorrows in sushi.”

I ordered an avocado roll and a bowl of miso soup. Zephyr ordered a spicy tuna roll, a yellowtail roll, and something called unagi sashimi.

“What’s that?” I said, after the waitress had taken our order. “That last thing you said.”

“Eel,” he said, grinning.

“Seriously? Ugh.”

“Hey, you don’t have to eat any of it. But I’m warning you, it’s possibly the most delicious thing on this planet.”

“Yeah … I’ll pass.” I looked down, fiddling with my napkin. “Sorry I spilled all that on you. About my family stuff.”

He shook his head. “Not at all. I’m sorry you’re going through it.”

“Thanks.”

“Anyway, sounds like great stuff to use on stage.”

I smiled. “I guess that’s a good way to think about it. It’s just all so weird. How about you? Are you close with your parents? What are they like?” I knew I was prying, but I desperately wanted to stop talking about myself. And right as I said that I remembered—he didn’t have a mother. He’d told me that on our way to Center Stage the first time. Crap.

Before I could try to dig myself out of that one, though, he cleared his throat and answered my question. “I don’t know much at all about my parents—my birth parents. I’m adopted.”

“Oh! Cool.”

“I have two dads, actually.”

“Very cool!”

“We’ve been fighting about college stuff lately, but usually we get along pretty well.”