My dad looks down, and for a second I couldn’t tell if he was going to get mad or cry.
Then he sort of snorts and says, “Thanks, but that’s not me anymore.” Which was probably the only honest thing my dad said all night.
After that he was quiet. He’d try to plaster up a smile now and then, but man, underneath it he was broody.
And I was feeling kind of bad for him. Was he thinking about the good old days playing in a band?
I tried picturing him in cowboy boots and a cowboy hat, with a guitar strapped across his shoulder, playing some old Willie Nelson song.
He was right – it just wasn’t him. But the fact that it ever had been made me feel even more like a stranger in a strange land.
Then, when the night was over and the Bakers were piling out the front door, something else strange happened.
Juli touched my arm. And for the first time that night she was looking at me.
It was that look, too, channeled directly and solely at me. She says, “I’m sorry I was so angry when we first came in.
Everyone had a good time, and I think your mom’s really nice for inviting us.”
Her voice was quiet. Almost a whisper. I just stood there like a moron, staring at her.
“Bryce?” she says, touching my arm again. “Did you hear me? I’m sorry.”
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