Of all the days for Dad to mow the lawn, he chose today. There he stood out front, shirt off and pasty paunch peeking over his cracked, brown leather belt. Dad idled the belching mower and shielded his eyes in the afternoon sun. It wasn’t every day—never—that I got dropped off by a guy in front of the house.
“Sorry. That’s just my dad.”
A surprised look flitted across Nate’s face. “Cool.”
“Thanks for the ride.”
“No worries. So, are you in college or…?”
“Mahina High,” I blurted. I instantly regretted it when his face flushed and he blinked several times. “I graduate this year,” I added.
“Right on,” he said. But I felt him back away, even though he hadn’t moved an inch.
“See you Saturday,” I said as I got out.
“For sure.” But he didn’t meet my eyes. I felt about as smooth as a barnacle as I shut the door and watched him drive away.
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