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When
I
woke
I
was
still
tired
,
but
edgy
as
well
.
I
pulled
on
my
brown
turtleneck
and
the
inescapable
jeans
,
sighing
as
I
daydreamed
of
spaghetti
straps
and
shorts
.
Breakfast
was
the
usual
,
quiet
event
I
expected
.
Charlie
fried
eggs
for
himself
;
I
had
my
bowl
of
cereal
.
I
wondered
if
he
had
forgotten
about
this
Saturday
.
He
answered
my
unspoken
question
as
he
stood
up
to
take
his
plate
to
the
sink
.
"
About
this
Saturday
.
.
.
"
he
began
,
walking
across
the
kitchen
and
turning
on
the
faucet
.
I
cringed
.
"
Yes
,
Dad
?
"
"
Are
you
still
set
on
going
to
Seattle
?
"
he
asked
.
"
That
was
the
plan
.
"
I
grimaced
,
wishing
he
hadn
’
t
brought
it
up
so
I
wouldn
’
t
have
to
compose
careful
half
-
truths
.
He
squeezed
some
dish
soap
onto
his
plate
and
swirled
it
around
with
the
brush
.
"
And
you
’
re
sure
you
can
’
t
make
it
back
in
time
for
the
dance
?
"
"
I
’
m
not
going
to
the
dance
,
Dad
.
"
I
glared
.
"
Didn
’
t
anyone
ask
you
?
"
he
asked
,
trying
to
hide
his
concern
by
focusing
on
rinsing
the
plate
.
I
sidestepped
the
minefield
.
"
It
’
s
a
girl
’
s
choice
.
"
"
Oh
.
"
He
frowned
as
he
dried
his
plate
.
