Page 125 of As You Walk On

This time, Dad cocks an eyebrow. “With your clumsy genes? It’s arentedtux. The insurance alone could’ve bought me a used car.”

I know it’s a joke. Thanks to Darren the Narc, Dad sat me down for another talk two weeks ago. This one about money.

“TJ, I work hard for a reason. To make sure you have what you need. Tooccasionallyspoil you. Let me worry about what’s happening in the bank account.”

I promised I would, but all the price tags add up in my head. The tux, shoes, and haircut. Socks too. Thankfully, Luca bought the tickets, but still. Dad’s time card is loaded with overtime.

When he steps back to admire me, I can see his heart tripling in size. He’s happy. It leaves me flushed and less on edge.

“My clumsy genes are your clumsy genes,” I remind him, smirking.

“God bless your G’Pa and the Wright blood flowing through our veins.”

We laugh without getting caught up in the sad undertones of the moment. G’Pa and Granny might not be here, but I imagine them watching over us somewhere. Smiling at the ways we’ve kept going.

“Maybe...” Dad squints. “The black would’ve been a subtler option. This look is saying a lot for junior prom.”

I gasp indignantly. The floor-length mirror in Dad’s bedroom provides a perfect view of my fit. The scarlet red jacket over all-black shirt, vest, and slacks. My bow tie matches the jacket. Darth Vader socks. With my hair freshly sponged, I look older. A different Theo, even though I still feel like a huge dork internally.

“Just means we need to go bigger for senior year!” I announce, waggling my eyebrows at Dad’s reflection.

He groans before fixing my lapels a final time.

I can tell he’s eagerly anticipating me starting that part-time job at Crumbtious.

“Speaking of senior year,” Dad begins, and suddenly my collar is one size too small. “Maybe it wouldn’t be bad for you to take up a hobby? Something unrelated to school or track.”

I fiddle with my cuff links.

Last week, we won conference finals. Dusted those Mountainview jerks. Yes, I’m still a little bitter about KD.

When Coach thought no one was watching, I saw her, hand over eyes, crying. It was amazing. It’s all I could talk to Dad about on the drive home. Not the victory. Only Coach Devers’s reaction.

He said “uh-huh” at all the key points, but I sensed something was off. Like he was reading between my words.

“You’ve set yourself up nicely for college apps,” Dad continues as I tug on my crimson loafers. “Maybe you should give yourself something else to focus on? Something... fun.”

“Track is fun.”

“I know.” He snickers. “Something solely for you, though. I’m giving you permission to be selfish here, TJ. Take advantage of it.”

Who is this alien inhabiting my pops’s body?

Through the floor, I hear a familiar, upbeat song. My left foot taps along.Is that Montell Jordan?I bite down on my grin.

“What about taking some hip-hop dance classes?”

Dad’s head tilts so hard, I think his neck might snap.

“Yeah,” I say. All the hours I’ve spent on my phone watchingYouTube videos. Mimicking TikToks. The adrenaline that exploded under my skin like Pop Rocks candies tossed in soda during the dance contest in Maddie’s bedroom. “We’d have a lot of fun.”

“We?”

“Come on, Dad!” I laugh. “Isn’t it time you broke the Wright curse? Find your rhythm?”

“I have rhythm, thank you very much.” His attempt at a stern voice gives way to his own sputtering guffaw.

We share twin smiles in the mirror.

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