Midnight Sun(32)

Ugh. First my dad and now Morgan assuming that Charlie will leave me when he finds out. I re-create my lie and decide it only counts as one since it’s the same thing I told my dad.

Charlie is. He knows and he’s completely cool.

Good for him. Good for you. I’m turning off my phone and going to sleep now. I was up all night. Later.

Who knew relationships could be so complicated? I toss and turn in bed, worrying about how to convince my dad to give me more freedom. How to actually tell Charlie what I supposedly already told him. What to do about Morgan. I’m mad at her, but maybe I shouldn’t be. Maybe I should apologize to her, not the other way around.

Eventually, I fall into a fitful sleep.





15

“So tonight’s the night,” my dad says.

“Yup,” I say, gnawing on a nail. I know I shouldn’t be this nervous. How could my dad not like Charlie? He’s, like, perfect. Not to mention a perfect gentleman. Still, there’s a lot riding on what my dad thinks of him. I need everything to go just right.

“But you’re going to be normal, right?” I’ve managed to convince my dad to not lecture Charlie about XP and how dangerous it was for me to be out so late last night. I’ve told him that normal dads don’t talk about their daughters’ medical conditions when they meet the Boyfriend.

This one lie sure is snowballing. And it does not feel good. My life as a rebellious teen is really stressing me out.

The doorbell rings. I let Dad answer it alone. The plan is that I’m supposed to go to my room and wait until he calls for me, but I can’t stand the suspense of not knowing how it’s going. I walk halfway up the stairs and stay put.

I hear Charlie introducing himself, my father ushering him into the den, then telling him to sit.

“Ever been arrested?”

This is my dad’s idea of an opening line? I can’t even.

“No, sir,” Charlie replies.

Dad’s questions come rapid fire and only go downhill from there. “What’s your curfew?”

“One AM.”

“What time do you actually get home?”

“Around two,” Charlie admits. “Sometimes later. Like last night. I’d like to apologize to you, sir, for getting Katie home so late. We lost track of time.”

“Don’t do it again,” my dad tells him. “Now, why aren’t you going to college?”

Ugh. I’m sure Charlie didn’t want me discussing with my father how I think he should use the money to fund his education instead of tooling around the country in a new truck. The little nest egg he’s accumulated would probably cover classes at the community college and then some. After that, he could transfer to UW and still afford it with in-state tuition and maybe some loans and grants. (I may have done a little research on this in preparation for subtly suggesting it to Charlie.)

“I got hurt and lost my swimming scholarship,” Charlie tells him. I wonder if he’s looking my dad straight in the eyes or staring at his feet like he does when he’s sad and/or uncomfortable.

“How many times a week do you shave?”

“Like four…?” I can hear the confusion in Charlie’s voice. He’s definitely thinking Why does it matter?

“I don’t believe you,” my dad tells him. I’m dying. What is this, the Inquisition? Who cares how many times a week he shaves? “Who’s your team?”

“The Seahawks,” Charlie answers. This has to win my dad over.

But my dad persists. “Why?”

Charlie gets bonus points here. “Because they’re great and also because one time I met Richard Sherman at this burger place and he ate some of my fries.”

There’s silence for a good minute. I’m sure Charlie is squirming in his seat. I know I am. I’m desperate to go save him. I keep staring at my phone, waiting for that text to pop up telling me I can go join them.

Finally, my dad cracks. “That’s awesome. That’s important.”

I know he’s grinning. I’m so happy. Until a second later when he almost outs me. “Charlie, I know she seems strong, but she’s fragile. She—”

I’m not waiting for any text; I go bounding down the stairs, yelling a greeting that’s really meant to interrupt the bomb-dropping in progress. “Hey! What are you guys talking about?”

Charlie gets up from the couch to give me a hug.

“Nothing, just getting to know each other,” my dad says.

“Wow,” Charlie says.

He’s staring at me like he can’t believe I exist. It’s funny because it’s not like I’m dressed up or anything. I’m wearing jeans and a T-shirt and weathered white Vans. But I did do my hair and makeup just like Morgan showed me, so maybe that’s it.

I reward him with a huge smile, grab my guitar case from where it’s sitting in the corner—Charlie told me to bring it, I don’t know why, but he sounded so excited I couldn’t say no—and give my dad a little hug.

“Well,” Dad says, “be safe, okay?”

I nod. “Love you as much as possible.”

Charlie reaches out his hand. They shake. “Thanks for letting me take her out, Mr. Price,” he says. “I’ll take good care of her.”