16 Things I Thought Were True

by Janet Gurtler

  The confession warms me a little. “I have to figure out things with my mom and my…birth father. And I usually use my break to get caught up with my friends, so I guess I’m a little edgy.”

  “Your friends on there?” He gestures at my phone and raises his eyebrows. “You have a lot of people following you. I have, like, twenty.”

  He has nineteen. But I don’t say that out loud. And I try not to judge him for it.

  “Stop me if this is a crazy idea,” he says, “but I thought you might want to talk to someone, you know, in person.”

  I take a sip of soda and study the coffee table, trying to put my words together in a way that makes sense. It’s so much easier to get things right on Twitter.

  Adam watches me, his expression calm, not rushing me or trying to fill in the silence.

  “Last night, my mom finally told me his name. My father.” I stop and look up, waiting to see his reaction.

  “Wow,” he says and leans back on the couch. “That’s huge.”

  “Yeah.” I take another sip of Coke and smile at him.

  “Why’re you smiling?” he asks.

  “Just that you get it’s a big deal. I have a picture of him too. And I found him. He lives in Victoria, BC. In Canada.”

  He finishes off his sandwich, watching me. “Are you going to call him?”

  “No. I’m going to go see him. I want to do it in person,” I blurt out and wait for his reaction. I haven’t told anyone that part. Not even online. And it’s only when I say it out loud that I know I have to. I have a father. I want to show him that I made it, that his rejection didn’t break me—not in a way that he’ll be able to see, anyhow. I ignore the way my stomach twists. I ignore the little girl inside of me who wants to cling to his pant leg and cry and demand to be loved. I’m not that bad…am I?

  Adam puts down his drink on the coffee table. I notice a carving in the table. JM + LG.

  He pulls an apple from his paper bag and rubs it on his T-shirt. “So you’re planning to go all the way to Canada to drop in on the father you’ve never met—without warning?”

  I take an aggressive bite of the bar. “Yup. Pretty much.”

  He bites into the apple and some juice squirts out and hits my arm, but we both ignore it.

  “Cool?” he says but phrases it like a question.

  That makes me laugh. “I want to see his face when I tell him who I am,” I say softly. I finish my bar and scrunch the wrapper up in my hand.

  Adam watches me as he chews through the apple in big bites. “What do you hope to accomplish?”

  I throw the balled up wrapper at the garbage and it goes in. I take that as a good sign. I believe in signs. Then I bite my lip, embarrassed. I don’t want to tell Adam that I hope my dad will see me and change his mind. I pick at a hangnail on my thumb, and Adam leans forward to toss his apple core in the garbage. He misses and I hide a smile.

  “He walked away,” he says softly.

  I sigh. “I know.”

  “Well,” he says, “I guess anything can happen, but you should be prepared…in case…”

  “Did you know it costs over two hundred thousand dollars to raise a kid to the age of eighteen?” I interrupt before he can say more.

  He sips his drink. “No, I didn’t.” He tilts his head, studying me. “Is this about money?”

  I stare at him. He’s looking at me as if he cares, and it’s sweet. He’s being rational. I know it. Of course it’s not about the money. It’s about me. Me. And Bob. And some stupid hope that I’m clinging to. That if he sees me…

  “I can handle this,” I say. “I just need to figure out a way to get there. To Victoria. It’s not that far, but unfortunately, Josh is selling his car, so I can’t borrow his. Maybe I’ll rent one.”

  Adam leans back on his couch. “Don’t you have to be twenty-one or even older to rent a car?”

  “Really?” I unclench my jaw and roll out my shoulders.

  “I can drive you,” a tiny voice says from behind me.

  Amy is standing beside the couch holding a paper tube wrapped in pink cotton candy. The corners of her mouth are bright pink.

  “Amy,” I say, “this is a private conversation.”

  She pulls a big chunk of cotton candy off with her tiny fingers. “You’re sitting in the staff room, not the private conversation room. If you wanted privacy, why didn’t you go to your bathroom stall?”

  Adam looks at her. I narrow my eyes at her and shake my head. “Well, I heard. And I can drive. So that’s probably a good thing if you really do want to go find your dad.”

  I glare at her. She doesn’t even look old enough to have her driver’s license.

  She walks around the couch so she’s in front of me. “I’ve always wanted to go on a road trip.” Her cotton candy sticks straight down, almost in my face, but she doesn’t take her eyes off me. “It’s at the top of my list, like the very top.”

  “How could you possibly drive?”

  She puts her hands out like she’s holding a steering wheel with her cotton candy and steers the air. “Um. Like that.”

  “I mean what car would you drive?”

  Her mouth opens and closes, and then she takes a bite of her cotton candy and looks at Adam.

  “She has a car,” Adam says. “A new Mazda 3 hatchback. It’s bright yellow. You can’t miss it. I’ve seen her driving in the parking lot.”

  I glare at Amy. “You have a new car?”

  She pulls off another chunk of cotton candy and looks around the staff room. “Actually, my dad bought it for me,” she says, not looking at me.

  “You have to give your parents your paychecks for rent. How could your dad possibly manage to afford a car? A new one?”

  She makes a snorty giggle sound that’s both nervous and awkward, and then she looks at me. “I may have exaggerated not being able to afford lunch.” Her gaze darts off to the table of red shirts making a huge amount of noise as they snap pictures of themselves. “A little.” She glances back at me. “Okay,” she says. “A lot.”

  “What?” I ask.

  She plunks her butt down on the couch beside Adam. She glances at him. “Um. I lied.” She sighs. “I don’t work here for the money, okay? I thought it might be a good way to make new friends. I was homeschooled until last year, and all the kids at my high school are so…lame.” She picks off a strand of pink fluff but doesn’t put it in her mouth.

  “You don’t have to give your parents your paychecks?” I repeat.

  “No. My dad, well my mom too, since they’re married and all, but my dad made lots of money. I didn’t lie about him being an inventor though. He’s a software designer. And he’s good. Really good. He invented Sour Cats.” She hums the theme song to the app that every person in the world seems to have on their phone or tablet.

  “Your dad invented Sour Cats?” Adam asks. He turns to me. “I did hear that the guy who invented it lived in Tadita.”

  “Why? Why would he live in Tadita?” I ask.

  “Where are we supposed to live?”

  “Hollywood? Hawaii? Beverly Hills?” I suggest.

  She shrugs. “My dad likes it here. And my mom grew up in Tadita.”

  Adam sits up taller and opens his mouth. I raise my hand up to stop him. “How do we know you’re not lying again?”

  She pouts a little. “I guess you don’t.” She holds out her cotton candy to me and makes a puppy dog face. “Want some?”

  I glare at her.

  She sighs and folds over a little in the middle. “I’m sorry. I was so embarrassed that Adam caught me eating from someone’s popcorn, and you looked so judgmental when I told you, so I, uh, made that up so you wouldn’t hate me. And then I had to take your money to go with the story. I meant to pay back the five bucks.” She stands and digs into a pocket on her skinny jeans and pu
lls out a bill. “With interest.” She holds out a ten, but I shake my head.

  “Twenty?” She pulls out another bill and leans over the coffee table and puts it in front of me and then sits back down. “Yes. And I can pay for gas for the trip too.” She grins and there’s a glob of pink cotton candy stuck in her teeth.

  I snatch the bill from the table and shove it in my pocket to spite her. “A yellow car? For real?”

  “I like yellow. It’s a happy color.” She bounces on her butt, clearly excited. “Let me make it up to you. I’ll drive you to BC. I can pay for the gas and the hotel.”

  She grins at me, a sparkle in her eyes. I frown at the excitement on her face, but it dawns on me—she might be the answer I’ve been looking for.

  “Well,” I say, “you wouldn’t have to pay for everything.” Am I actually taking this offer seriously? I don’t even know if she’s telling the truth for sure. I put my hand up. “Are you serious?” It’s happening so fast. And while it’s exciting, it terrifies me more than a little. “Would your parents even let you go?”

  “My parents would totally let me go, trust me. They’d be thrilled. Me and a friend on a road trip? They’d be, like, orgasmic or something!” Her eyes open wider, and she’s so honest with her enthusiasm and disbelief that this could happen that I have an urge to hug her close. I know what’s it’s like to be lonely. I know what it’s like to have a parent who worries about me not having friends.

  I chew my lip. “Are you really serious?”

  “The sooner the better! Can you imagine? Me and you on the open road.” She giggles.

  “Are you old enough?” I say, not believing this is coming together so quickly.

  She sits up straighter, like it will make her taller. “I’m eighteen. I can’t help it that my parents gave me the short genes. Sue me. There are worse things.” She glares at me and then taps the side of her nose. “Maybe we’ll find out that your dad has a big nose.”

  I snort, even though I’m pretty sure she just insulted the size of my nose. I reach for my phone. I need to tweet this news. The road trip will happen.

  “It’s at least four hours to drive,” I tell her as I type. I glance up. “Plus a ferry ride. And you need a passport to drive across the border.”

  “I went to Scotland last Christmas. Do you have a passport?” she asks.

  “I got one a couple years ago, when we went on a school trip to Vancouver,” I tell her.

  “I want to come,” Adam says.

  I stop typing. We both turn to look at him. I’d actually forgotten he was sitting there for a minute.

  “You can’t come on a road trip with two girls,” I say.

  Amy bounces on her butt some more and makes a weird giggly sound. “Sure he can. Road trip! Road trip!” she chants. The girls in red turn to look at us, but I don’t even care that we’re drawing attention to ourselves. I’ve practically committed to going on a road trip with this tiny little person who sounds like an overactive mouse, and that makes me happier than I’ve been in a long time. I should be worried.

  “Why not?” Adam asks. “Are you afraid you won’t be able to control yourself around me?”

  “Ugh,” I say, and my cheeks warm. “Please.”

  Amy giggles a little too enthusiastically.

  “Girlfriend,” I remind Amy. “He has a girlfriend. He’s kidding.”

  “I know. And I think I can control myself,” she squeals to Adam. “But can you?”

  I ignore her and frown at Adam. “Why would you even want to come?” The thought of being in a car with him for over four hours makes my insides twist up.

  He ignores me and focuses on Amy. “Maybe you guys need someone to look after you. Maybe I need a vacation. Do you mind if I come along?”

  She grins, and I see again how pretty she is when she smiles. “Not even a little.”

  “But why would you want to?” I repeat.

  He laughs out loud. “Come on. You’re not that bad. You’ll have your face buried in your phone the whole time. Why do you care if I come along?”

  “No,” I say, determined to talk him out of this crazy idea. Immediately. My excitement is getting squashed down by his suggestion.

  “Why not?” he asks.

  “How about we don’t want a bunch of male junk in the car? Never mind a room,” I tell him.

  “My junk?” He glances down at his crotch.

  “God. Not that junk. Gross. Just, you know, junk. Boy junk.”

  “I like boy junk,” Amy says.

  “Now there’s a tweet!” Adam says to me.

  I roll my eyes. “You’re not helping,” I say to Amy. “And what do you know about boy junk?”

  “What do you know about it?” she asks.

  “I have brothers.”

  “Oh. Well,” Amy says, “I figure it’s like girl stuff, only different.”

  “Pretty much,” Adam says.

  I glare at both of them. “We wouldn’t all be allowed to take vacation on the same weekend anyhow,” I say.

  “Who cares? I’ll quit.” Amy stands up, walks to the trashcan, and throws away a huge portion of her cotton candy. “I already came clean and you know I don’t need the money. I’ll quit. A road trip is better than working in the snack shop. And summer is almost over anyway.”

  A new group of kids storm into the staffroom, a mix of yellow and red shirts. They’re loud as they gather around a nearby table, but for once I don’t care what they’re talking about or worry that they’re all laughing at me. One of the boys walks over to the vending machine. “Yo,” he says to Adam, “boss man.”

  Adam nods, and his happy expression changes just a little. I wait until the guy takes his chocolate bar and heads back to his friends. Maybe he does need a break.

  “I can’t quit. I need the money for college,” I say and then stop and swallow, thinking of my mom, the bills coming in. I’d give it all to her without too much remorse. Shaking that off, I turn to Adam. “You can’t quit either. It would look bad on your résumé for your fancy premed schools. Anyhow, you must need the money too.” I frown, wishing he’d stop trying to ruin this.

  “I do, but don’t worry about that.” He grins as if he didn’t hear the negativity oozing from my mouth. “I can get the time off,” he says. “For all of us.”

  “No, you can’t,” I tell him.

  He frowns at me. “What are you? Work schedule patrol?” He gestures at the three of us. “Theresa is my aunt,” Adam says and stands. “Nepotism is alive and well at Tinkerpark. She’ll let us go. I’m her favorite nephew. Sort of. Anyhow, don’t worry. You won’t have to quit.” He glances at Amy. “Unless you want to.”

  Amy is doing a little dance on the spot. She has no rhythm at all. None. But I smile at her, not caring if every one of those yellow or red shirts stares at us and makes fun of us.

  “Not really. This is the best summer of my life.” She grins.

  “Huh,” is all I can manage. Never saw that one coming.

  “So,” Adam says, “let’s head to the office and book ourselves time off.” Adam reaches for my hand to help pull me up, but I ignore him and stand on my own.

  Amy stops her dance and pulls her phone out. “My fingers are sticky,” she says, squishing up her nose.

  “I wonder why,” Adam says.

  I glance at the phone she’s holding. It’s the newest model and is covered by a Hello Kitty bedazzled pink phone case. Why did I not notice that before?

  “I’m calling my dad,” she says. “This is going to be epic.”

  “Are you sure your parents will be okay?” I ask as I sling my backpack on my shoulder.

  “My parents will throw a party. Trust me. They’re always trying to get rid of me. I think they want to have sex in my bedroom.” She smiles. “Joke. They want me to have friends.”

  A
my walks a few feet ahead of us, covers one ear with her hand, and starts gabbing loudly into her phone. Adam walks slowly beside me. “So? Road trip ready?”

  I take a deep breath. “I’m kind of freaking out,” I admit.

  “It’ll be awesome.” He pushes his glasses up his nose. “Let’s go do this thing,” he says.

  ***

  When Amy and I leave the office, we both have the next weekend booked off. We head back to our workstations together, and my mind is still reeling. Just like that, I’m going on a road trip. To see Bob White. It’s actually going to happen.

  “Don’t you think it’s weird that Adam wants to come along?” I ask her.

  “No,” she says. “The other day when I asked him to go on the rollercoaster with me, he told me his girlfriend lives in Vancouver. He went on and on about her. Blah blah blah. I’m over my crush on him anyway. He’s too intense.”

  I try not to laugh. “He’s okay,” I say, thinking of how much he helped out with my mom.

  “He’ll probably meet his girlfriend somewhere. I’m sure that’s why he wants to come,” Amy says.

  I ignore a twinge of something like jealousy in my middle parts. It doesn’t matter. He’s my boss. Maybe my friend. Not someone to get jealous over.

  “You reach five thousand followers yet?” Amy asks as we walk through crowds of families.

  I have this superstition. If I can reach five thousand followers this summer, things will turn around for me in my senior year. I know it. #superstitiousmuch

  I stop in my tracks and stare at her. “How do you know about that?”

  “Um. Twitter. Hello?” she says and keeps walking.

  “You’re on Twitter?” I ask and duck around a little boy running away from his mom. I smile at him and pull my phone out of my backpack.

  “Um. Yeah. @5alive. I’ve been following you for weeks. You haven’t followed me back.”

  “I have almost five thousand followers, Amy,” I remind her, holding my phone up in the air and hurrying to keep up with her. She walks fast for someone with such little legs.

  “Well, la dee da,” she says. “The people online, they don’t really know you, you know.”