Page 78 of Personal Foul

She shrugs. “Well, according to my mother, when I was about the same age as Gracie, I would only wear overalls and nothing else. Until one day, I woke up and refused to wear them. I’d apparently decided I hated overalls and didn’t want to wear them again. She had to wrestle me into a pair, because that was all I had, and take me shopping.”

The longer she tells that story, the harder I’m laughing, imagining a miniature Charity screaming about overalls. “Sounds like you’ve been stubborn all your life.”

Another shrug. “I come by it naturally. Both my parents are stubborn as mules too. In any case, it’s always possible Grace will wake up tomorrow and decide she hates tea parties and never wants another one. I still haven’t worn overalls again.”

Laughing, I lean in for one more kiss. “Alright, Spitfire. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She kisses me back, pulling her lower lip into her mouth and nodding when we break apart. “See you tomorrow.”

* * *

The next few days have basically the same routine. Charity tells me her schedule, and we decide on a time for me to come pick her up. We have dinner at my place, study for a while, and end the night in my bedroom. I still haven’t managed to convince her to stay on a school night, but tomorrow’s Friday, so I am hoping that will make a difference.

I’m in the locker room, changing back into my clothes after my Thursday afternoon light cardio and conditioning session, when my phone rings. The pic I took of Charity the other day lights up my screen.

A jolt of adrenaline spikes in my bloodstream, a combination of excitement threaded with fear. Charity usually texts. If she’s calling, does that mean something is wrong? Did something terrible happen? Maybe she got in a car accident? Or did her dad get arrested?

All of these questions whizz through my mind with lightning speed as I answer. “Hey, Spitfire. Everything all right?”

She laughs, and I’m immediately put at ease. If she’s laughing, it can’t be that bad, right? “Everything’s fine. I’m watching my niece, and she really wants you to come over for a tea party. But I promise it’s okay if you say no.”

In the background I hear a little kid voice scream, “No it’s not!”

A grin spreads across my face. “You want me to come for a tea party?”

An exasperated sigh fills my ear. “Graciewants you to come for a tea party.”

“Oooh. I see how it is. You don’t really want me to come. You’re just humoring a little kid.”

She makes another sound of exasperation. “Of course I’d love to see you.” She says that, but the tone of her voice sounds like she’s placating me. And honestly? I find that kind of hilarious. “But I also know I’ll be seeing you soon.”

“I guess that is a good point,” I say like I’m conceding something, even when I know I’m right. Truth is, I still haven’t gotten past the point of getting a rise out of Charity. “How does she even know about me?”

“Oh my god,” she mutters. Her growing frustration makes me grin even wider. “You texted me while I was here the other day, and she wanted to know who I was talking to. She’s been insisting I invite you for a tea party ever since, but I didn’t want to do it without her mom’s permission. I was kind of hoping she would just forget about it, but when I got here today, she ran up to me and asked if you were coming. So I had to tell my sister about you, about how Gracie knows about you, and about her longing to have you come for a tea party. But seriously, you really don’t have to if you don’t want to. She’ll be mad, but I can handle it.”

“Text me the address. I’ve got to see what all this tea party fuss is about.”

Charity laughs, and it’s the kind of laugh that sounds like she’s trying to hold it back but can’t help but let it out. My favorite laugh of hers. “Okay. I’ll text it to you as soon as I get off the phone.”

“Sounds good. See you soon, Spitfire.”

* * *

About twenty minutes later, I’m pulling up in front of an older craftsman-style house on the south end of town. It’s a nice neighborhood, the houses are all well kept up, with old-growth trees in nearly every yard. I’m actually kind of nervous as I get out of my car. I haven’t spent much time around little kids since I was one myself. And there’s also the possibility that I might meet Charity’s sister because Charity said her sister is likely to be home within the hour.

I glanced down at my clothes. It’s my usual relaxed wardrobe—a Marycliff football sweatshirt over a T-shirt with joggers and sneakers. If I’d known I’d be in some kind of meet the family situation today, I would’ve dressed better.

Oh well. Nothing to be done about it now. Maybe our tea party will only last half an hour, and Charity will hustle me out the door before her sister gets home.

I snort at that idea. Partly because it’s entirely possible. I could totally see Charity doing something like that. But also, I don’t think that would work even if she tried it. Unless her niece decides she hates me on sight, and I am summarily kicked out of the tea party crew.

I’ve been standing in front of the door for a ridiculous amount of time now. The neighbors, if they’re paying attention, probably wonder what the hell I’m doing. What the hell am I doing?

I’m coming over to see my girlfriend and have a tea party with her and her niece. Wholesome stuff. There’s literally no reason to stall.

Raising my hand, I knock firmly on the door three times. And I’m immediately greeted by the squealing and screaming of a little girl, muffled still by the closed door.

It opens a few seconds later, revealing Charity flustered but smiling. “Hey. You made it.”

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