Page 35 of The Surprise

And underneath her jacket, she’s wearing the shirt I gave her.

Her eyes widen first, and then she inhales, her mouth opening, her jaw dangling. And then, as if things are running slowly for her this early in the morning, she glances down, a look of horror on her face.

She got caught wearing the shirt I gave her.

I roll down my window. “My, you look quite sparkly today, Elizabeth.”

She swallows.

“I was annoyed I had to drop the kids off, but. . .” I tilt my head a bit and stare at her shirt. “Now? Not nearly as much.”

Her face is adorably close to the color of her shirt. It’s not quite as pink as the shirt, but closer than I thought it could get.

I can’t help beaming. “How do you feel about grabbing that burger?”

She shakes her head. “No way.”

“But you look soshinytoday. I feel like people should see this new you.” I should stop smiling so much. She might think I’m gloating.

“I need to do laundry,” she says. “Don’t read into it.”

“So you’re saying I should bring you some more clothes?” I shrug. “Message received.”

“Ethan.” She arches one super cute eyebrow, but after seeing my mom do the same move a million times, it’s like being hit with a Nerf gun after training to withstand an AR-15 attack.

“Beth, you’re a lightweight. It’s good that I like lightweights.”

“I have a school project,” she says. “I can’t go to dinner.”

“I’ll bring it to you,” I say. “How about we meet at that old bench in front of Steve’s.” I have work to do there this afternoon anyway. “I’ll even bring a cupcake.”

“What? Why?”

I roll my eyes. “So you can sing happy birthday to me, of course.”

“Seven-thirty?” I ask. “Sun should just have set.” I drive off before she can tell me no.

She probably won’t come, but I grab some sandwiches and a cupcake from the True Value before heading back home just in case. Sure, they’re not the best food, but I can stick them in Steve’s fridge and grab them before I leave, and if she doesn’t show, I can eat them both.

One of the perks of being a teenage boy.

Assuming Steve doesn’t notice the cupcake.

Actually, even that’s not super strange for me. I’m like a vacuum cleaner for food. The rest of the day crawls by. Steve sets me to work breaking up poop in his pastures, which isn’t hard work, but it’s so boring. Every time I check my watch, it’s been even less time than the last time I checked.

But finally,finally, it’s seven fifteen. Steve’s on a horse, so I flip the arena lights on for him.

“Headed home?”

I nod.

“Alright, drive safe.”

I’m using the four-wheeler, since I don’t want Mom to know I’m here, or to askwhyI’m coming to Steve’s. “I’m going to grab some food I left in your fridge,” I say. “I hope that was okay.”

He shrugs.

I peel the now-soggy lettuce and tomatoes off the sandwiches and then I wrap them back up. I stuff them in my bag and head out, my heart hammering so loudly I can hear it in the back of my ears.

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