Chapter 9

Saturday’s yardwork was tearing out briars—and being torn in turn. The thorn bushes along one fence needed pruning back all the way. Because Dad didn’t have the reach, Clara refused to risk getting scratched, and Brad insisted on monkeying up the cedar tree to strip off the unrelated vines there, it was up to Dana to reach in and clip. And cut. And whack, and slash, and chop.

“I need a machete, not shears,” she grumbled to her father when she emerged from the jungle for a break. She wiped her forehead with a sleeve.

Clara sniffed as she primly cut up trimmings with hand clippers.

“That would be overkill,” her father said mildly.

“You haven’t been in there,” she said, pointing at the lopsided bramble. “Did I tell you about the river I found? I think it’s a tributary of the Orinoco. The scouting party is due back any week now to confirm.”

Her father cleared his throat. “You’ll have to make do with the equipment we have.”

“Dana!” Thea called from the back door. “Phone call!”

Dana blinked. Sam? They hadn’t synched up yet. She went into the kitchen, where she’d left her phone to charge—it had run out of juice overnight again.

It was Tina. “Can you meet?”

Oh, right—the talk. Dana swallowed and thought quickly—between yardwork and going out tonight, getting away meant getting little or no homework done. Unless—

“Hang on.” She covered the mouthpiece and asked Thea, “Can Tina come over for lunch?”

Her stepmother raised an eyebrow, but nodded.

To Tina, “You free for lunch?”

Pause. “I guess.” Tina sounded suspicious.

“How about over here?” Dana said before Tina could suggest anything. “My stepmom’s making—” she checked the pot, “—minestrone with cornbread. And her chili cornbread is killer.”

Tina agreed. Dana hung up feeling both trepidation and relief. Doing this on her home court would help.

Back outside, Dana picked up the shears, looked at the briar, then at her father. “How about a flamethrower? Surely we can get one of those.”

“Cool!” Brad shouted from atop the tree.

Dad merely looked at her. Shaking her head, Dana crawled back into the fray.

Tina arrived as she was piling the last trash bag by the curb. Dana greeted her with a tentative smile.

“¡Madre de Dios!” Tina said. “What happened to you?”

Dana looked down at herself and found a few twigs and clippings. “Eh?”

“Your face. It’s all scratched up.”

“Oh.” Dana pulled off a glove and touched her cheek—it stung. “I’ve decided,” she said as she led Tina inside, “that the briar in the back yard is not, in fact, an outpost of the Amazon jungle, but a portal to Hell—and I say to hell with it.”

Tina shook her head. “But your date tonight!” Dana couldn’t tell whether her dismay was real or feigned.

They reached the kitchen. Dana introduced Tina to Thea and then her father.

“It’s nice to meet another of Dana’s friends,” Thea said, leaving “at last” unspoken. Dana managed not to grimace. Thea looked at Dana. “You,” she pointed at a chair, “sit.” She got out the first aid kit.

“But—” Dana said.

“Sit!”

Dana sat, not having a choice. She let her stepmother clean the cuts on her face and neck, not letting herself wince—she had some pride—while Dad chatted with Tina. Senior—check. Shared one class with Dana—check. The usual list. Dana managed to keep quiet.

Lunch was good—solid soup, warm cornbread, generous helpings. Dana didn’t always get along with her stepmother, but she’d never denied that she was a fine cook. Dana got the bay leaf, to Brad’s dismay. Which for Saturday lunch meant actually getting a dessert. She shared it with Tina, though her friend found the family custom odd—while liking the leftover pie.

After lunch, Dana took Tina up to her bedroom. Her full stomach hollowed out with each step.

“I have to admit,” Tina said, looking around, “this is not how I expected your room to look.”

“How so?” Dana sat at the head of the bed and grabbed a pillow to wrap herself around.

“Well, for one thing, only the one sports picture?” She nodded at the poster of Mia Hamm.

“Hey, no dissing Mia.”

“And nothing basketball at all.”

Dana pointed at her top shelf.

“Okay, except for the actual basketball.” Tina looked again. “Is that—?”

“Signed by all the LA Sparks, at the 2016 championships.”

Tina looked impressed, though Dana suspected she didn’t even know who the Sparks were. “How much could you get for that on eBay?”

“Nothing,” Dana said. “That’s my memory, and not for sale.”

Tina nodded thoughtfully, then sat down at the foot of the bed. Dana set her jaw—now to find out what she’d fill the hollow with.

“About Thursday,” Tina began.

“I’m sorry I kissed Josh,” Dana said quickly, while she still had the courage. “I—I didn’t expect it to happen.”

“This isn’t about making out while you were on a date with Josh. This is about being on a date with Josh.”