Dash & Lily's Book of Dares
Page 35
She actually put her hand on my leg and squeezed. “You see, Dash—I was never the girl in your head. And you were never the boy in my head. I think we both knew that. It’s only when we try to make the girl or boy in our head real that the true trouble comes. I did that with Carlos, and it was a bad failure. Be careful what you’re doing, because no one is ever who you want them to be. And the less you really know them, the more likely you are to confuse them with the girl or boy in your head.”
“Wishful thinking,” I said.
Sofia nodded. “Yes. You should never wish for wishful thinking.”
ten
(Lily)
December 26th
“You’re grounded.”
Grandpa stared at me in all seriousness. I couldn’t help but burst out laughing.
Grandpas give out dollar bills and bicycles and hugs. They don’t give punishments to grandchildren! Everybody knows that.
Grandpa had unexpectedly driven back to NYC, all day and night, all the way from Florida! Once he got home, he immediately went looking for me and my brother to check on us, only to nd my brother passed out in bed, lost under a sea of blankets and snot y tissues, and worse, his Lily Bear not only not upstairs in her Lily pad but nowhere to be found in her own family’s apartment.
Luckily, I arrived home around three-thirty in the morning, within minutes of Grandpa’s discovery of my disappearance. He’d only had enough time to nearly have a heart at ack, and to search for me inside every closet and cabinet in the apartment. Before Grandpa had a chance to call the police, along with my parents and several thousand other relatives to instigate a full-on worldwide panic, I waltzed in the door, still breathless and flushed from the night’s club scene excitement.
Grandpa’s rst words to me when he caught sight of me were not “Where have you been?” That came second. First was “Why are you only wearing one boot? And dear God, is that my sister’s old majoret e boot from high school on your foot?” He spoke from the kitchen oor in my apartment, where he was lying down, trying to determine, I believe, if I was hiding beneath the sink.
“Grandpa!” I cried out. I ran to smother him in day after Christmas kisses. I was so happy to see him, and exhilarated from the night out, despite how I’d ended it by sacrificing one of my great-aunt’s shoes to the gumshoes and neglecting to return the notebook for Snarl.
Grandpa wasn’t having my a ection. He turned his cheek to me, then went for the “you’re-grounded routine.” When I failed to meet his pronouncement with fear, he frowned and demanded, “Where have you been? It’s four in the morning!”
“Three-thirty,” I corrected him. “It’s three-thirty in the morning.”
“You’re in a world of trouble, young lady,” he said.
I giggled.
“I’m serious!” he said. “You’d bet er have a good explanation.”
Well, I’ve been corresponding with a complete stranger in a notebook, telling him my innermost feelings and thoughts and then blindly going to mystery places where he dares me to go….
No, that wouldn’t go over so well.
For the first time in my life, I lied to Grandpa.
“This friend from my soccer team had a party where her band played a Hanukkah show. I went to hear them.”
“THIS MUSIC REQUIRES YOU TO GET HOME AT FOUR IN THE MORNING?”
“Three-thirty,” I said again. “It’s, like, a religious thing. The band’s not allowed to play before midnight on the night after Christmas Day.”
“I see,” Grandpa said skeptically. “And don’t you have a curfew, young lady?” The invocation not once, but twice, of the dreaded young lady term of endearment should have put me on high fear alert, but I was too giddy from the night’s adventures to care.
“I’m pret y sure my curfew is suspended on holidays,” I said. “Like alternate side of the street parking rules.”
“LANGSTON!” Grandpa yelled. “GET IN HERE!”
It took a few minutes, but my brother finally moped into the kitchen, trailing a comforter, looking like he’d been woken from a coma.
“Grandpa!” Langston wheezed, surprised. “What are you doing home?” I knew Langston was relieved now to be sick, because if he wasn’t, Benny would surely have spent the night, and overnight companions of the romantic sort have not yet been authorized by the designated authority figures. Langston and I both would have been busted.
“Never mind me,” Grandpa said. “Did you allow Lily to go out on Christmas night to hear her friend’s music?” Langston and I shared a knowing glance: Our secrets needed to stay just that, secrets. I initiated our covert code from childhood, bat ing my eyelids up and down, so Langston would know to confirm what had just been asked of him.
“Yes,” Langston coughed. “Since I’m sick, I wanted Lily to go out and try to have some fun on the holiday. The band was playing in, like, the basement of someone’s brownstone on the Upper West Side. I arranged a car service to take her home. Totally safe, Grandpa.” Quick thinking for a sickie. Sometimes I really love my brother.
Grandpa eyed the two of us suspiciously, not sure whether he’d been caught in a siblings’ web of deceit and got-your-back-yo.
“Go to bed,” Grandpa barked. “Both of you. I’ll deal with you in the morning.”
“Why are you home, Grandpa?” I asked.
“Wishful thinking,” I said.
Sofia nodded. “Yes. You should never wish for wishful thinking.”
ten
(Lily)
December 26th
“You’re grounded.”
Grandpa stared at me in all seriousness. I couldn’t help but burst out laughing.
Grandpas give out dollar bills and bicycles and hugs. They don’t give punishments to grandchildren! Everybody knows that.
Grandpa had unexpectedly driven back to NYC, all day and night, all the way from Florida! Once he got home, he immediately went looking for me and my brother to check on us, only to nd my brother passed out in bed, lost under a sea of blankets and snot y tissues, and worse, his Lily Bear not only not upstairs in her Lily pad but nowhere to be found in her own family’s apartment.
Luckily, I arrived home around three-thirty in the morning, within minutes of Grandpa’s discovery of my disappearance. He’d only had enough time to nearly have a heart at ack, and to search for me inside every closet and cabinet in the apartment. Before Grandpa had a chance to call the police, along with my parents and several thousand other relatives to instigate a full-on worldwide panic, I waltzed in the door, still breathless and flushed from the night’s club scene excitement.
Grandpa’s rst words to me when he caught sight of me were not “Where have you been?” That came second. First was “Why are you only wearing one boot? And dear God, is that my sister’s old majoret e boot from high school on your foot?” He spoke from the kitchen oor in my apartment, where he was lying down, trying to determine, I believe, if I was hiding beneath the sink.
“Grandpa!” I cried out. I ran to smother him in day after Christmas kisses. I was so happy to see him, and exhilarated from the night out, despite how I’d ended it by sacrificing one of my great-aunt’s shoes to the gumshoes and neglecting to return the notebook for Snarl.
Grandpa wasn’t having my a ection. He turned his cheek to me, then went for the “you’re-grounded routine.” When I failed to meet his pronouncement with fear, he frowned and demanded, “Where have you been? It’s four in the morning!”
“Three-thirty,” I corrected him. “It’s three-thirty in the morning.”
“You’re in a world of trouble, young lady,” he said.
I giggled.
“I’m serious!” he said. “You’d bet er have a good explanation.”
Well, I’ve been corresponding with a complete stranger in a notebook, telling him my innermost feelings and thoughts and then blindly going to mystery places where he dares me to go….
No, that wouldn’t go over so well.
For the first time in my life, I lied to Grandpa.
“This friend from my soccer team had a party where her band played a Hanukkah show. I went to hear them.”
“THIS MUSIC REQUIRES YOU TO GET HOME AT FOUR IN THE MORNING?”
“Three-thirty,” I said again. “It’s, like, a religious thing. The band’s not allowed to play before midnight on the night after Christmas Day.”
“I see,” Grandpa said skeptically. “And don’t you have a curfew, young lady?” The invocation not once, but twice, of the dreaded young lady term of endearment should have put me on high fear alert, but I was too giddy from the night’s adventures to care.
“I’m pret y sure my curfew is suspended on holidays,” I said. “Like alternate side of the street parking rules.”
“LANGSTON!” Grandpa yelled. “GET IN HERE!”
It took a few minutes, but my brother finally moped into the kitchen, trailing a comforter, looking like he’d been woken from a coma.
“Grandpa!” Langston wheezed, surprised. “What are you doing home?” I knew Langston was relieved now to be sick, because if he wasn’t, Benny would surely have spent the night, and overnight companions of the romantic sort have not yet been authorized by the designated authority figures. Langston and I both would have been busted.
“Never mind me,” Grandpa said. “Did you allow Lily to go out on Christmas night to hear her friend’s music?” Langston and I shared a knowing glance: Our secrets needed to stay just that, secrets. I initiated our covert code from childhood, bat ing my eyelids up and down, so Langston would know to confirm what had just been asked of him.
“Yes,” Langston coughed. “Since I’m sick, I wanted Lily to go out and try to have some fun on the holiday. The band was playing in, like, the basement of someone’s brownstone on the Upper West Side. I arranged a car service to take her home. Totally safe, Grandpa.” Quick thinking for a sickie. Sometimes I really love my brother.
Grandpa eyed the two of us suspiciously, not sure whether he’d been caught in a siblings’ web of deceit and got-your-back-yo.
“Go to bed,” Grandpa barked. “Both of you. I’ll deal with you in the morning.”
“Why are you home, Grandpa?” I asked.
