The Unexpected Everything (39 page)

“We don't know that,” I said. “Let's not cast aspersions. It could have been Tom. Or, as Carly calls him, Phil.”

“And none of these are blue,” Toby said, picking up her purse, which made a
click
ing sound. She sighed. “Let's just move on. They won this round.”

My dad glanced into the diner and frowned. I saw a look in his eye, one I recognized. I knew my dad really did care about helping people and making a difference. But he was also great at campaigning. And this was the look he had when he was behind in a debate, when pundits were calling the election, and not in his favor, when all seemed lost. It was how he looked just before he started to fight back. “Not so fast,” he said as he started to walk into the restaurant.

Toby blinked at my dad, then looked at me. “What does that mean?”

I didn't answer her, just watched my dad stride up to Carly, his important-person walk still making people in the restaurant look up and take notice. “Hello,” I could hear him saying, his voice carrying across to me easily. He held out his hand for a handshake, and I noticed Carly take it, suddenly sitting up a little straighter. “I'm Representative Alexander Walker. I was hoping to talk to you about a time-sensitive matter.”

I looked back at Toby. “It means we're getting a menu.”

Five minutes later, we were all running out to the car together, my dad clutching two leather-bound menus with a smile on his face. “How did you do that?” I asked as we ran, the contents of Toby's bag clinking as she walked.

My dad beeped open the car and we all got in, nobody
wasting any time. “I just told her,” he said as he started the car and screeched out of his parking spot, “that I was thinking about hosting a campaign fund-raiser there and wanted to see what kind of options they had available.”

“And she believed you?” I asked.

My dad nodded to the menus he'd dropped on the dashboard. “Enough to give me those,” he said. “I just need to return them tomorrow. Along with a signed picture for their wall.”

“Awesome,” Toby said, leaning forward between our seats as far as her seat belt would allow. “Onward!”

TOM

Did you have success at the diner?

ME

“What's with the elephant?” I asked, taking my phone back from Toby as we ran up the steps to Captain Pizza. We'd called in our order on the way, and I was just crossing my fingers that, even though it was a Friday night, they would actually have our pizza ready on time. I saw, next door, my dad striding into Paradise Ice Cream, where he was going to try to get the Ice Cream Tasting Spoon, despite the fact that they weren't disposable at Paradise but actual spoons that you dropped into a mason jar to be washed and reused. We were getting tight on time, but with luck, we'd be leaving the pizza parlor with three
items checked off the list—Pizza With Three Toppings, Bottle of Soda, and Napkins.

“Because elephants never forget,” Toby said, like this was the most obvious answer in the world, as she yanked open the door. “And I'm not going to forget either.”

“We got the menus,” I reminded her as we ran up to the counter. The restaurant was half-filled already, and I hoped it wasn't going to affect how fast they were getting to-go orders out.

“Even so,” Toby said darkly.

“Hey!” a blond girl in a
CAPTAIN PIZZA
shirt said as we approached the counter.
DAWN
, read the lettering in military typeface on her T-shirt. “Can I help you?”

“Picking up for Walker,” I said as I glanced down at the clock on my phone. “Large pie with toppings on three-fourths of it, and one-fourth plain.” I had been the one placing the order, so this had been my attempt to try to get some pizza I could actually eat, since I wasn't going to touch the sausage-mushroom-onion combo that Toby swore to me was actually really good.

“And we need a bottle of soda,” Toby said, slapping her hand on the counter while I silently tried to tell her to take it down a notch. “And napkins! All the napkins you have!”

“Okay,” Dawn said, looking a little freaked out as she turned to look at the to-go boxes stacked above the oven.

“I've got the soda,” a voice behind us said, and a girl with short dark hair came out from where she'd been sitting in a booth. She wasn't wearing a Captain Pizza uniform, and it took me a moment to recognize her as Emily Hughes.

“Hi,” I said immediately, then hesitated. I knew who she
was, and I was pretty sure she knew me, since I'd been in AP Physics with her last year. But I mostly knew her because everyone knew who Emily Hughes was—she was half of the school's golden couple.

She smiled back at me. “Oh, hi, Andie,” she said. “How's it going?”

“We're kind of in a hurry?” Toby said.

Emily just laughed. “Sure,” she said, crossing behind the counter and heading to the refrigerated cases. “What kind of soda?”

“Any kind!” Toby yelled, as I said, “Diet Coke?”

“Pie's up,” Dawn said. She slid it across the counter to me. I handed her a twenty, and she turned to the register to ring me up. As she did, I noticed the back of her shirt read,
CAPTAIN PIZZA . . . YOU BETTER
MARSHAL
YOUR APPETITE!

I looked at Toby, then nodded at the shirt, and saw her eyes widen. This could easily take care of Business Slogan with a Pun. “Um, so,” I said as I took back my change from Dawn and dropped a dollar in the tip jar, “do you guys sell those shirts here?”

“These?” Dawn asked, glancing down at herself and making a face. “Why would you want this?”

Emily placed the two-liter bottle of Diet Coke in front of me and came to stand next to Dawn, leaning her elbows on the counter.

“It's . . . ,” I started, trying to think of some excuse that would make sense, but finally decided we didn't have time for me to come up with anything rational and that I should probably just to go with the truth. “We're doing a scavenger hunt, and we need something that has a business slogan with a pun,” I explained.

“Ah,” Dawn said, turning to Emily. “So you're trying to check items off a list?” she asked, nudging her. “What's
that
like?”

“Ignore my friend,” Emily said to us, rolling her eyes. “She's inhaled too many pizza fumes today.”

“We don't sell the shirts,” Dawn said, bending down under the counter. “But we hired his guy who lasted, like, one day and then quit in a huff last week.” She held it up, turning it around so I could see. The name on the front read
T.J.
, and on the back was printed,
CAPTAIN PIZZA . . . YOU GET THE
GENERAL
IDEA!
“I could give it to you if you want. I'm pretty sure he's never coming back.”

“That's awesome,” I said, and next to me, Toby nodded and grabbed the shirt out of Dawn's hands. “Thank you so much.”

We were halfway across the parking lot, heading for the car, when I saw my dad walking out of Paradise Ice Cream, a pint in one hand and his car keys in the other, whistling in a way that I'm sure he thought was nonchalant but actually wasn't. “Got the ice cream,” he called to us in a loud, far-too-cheerful voice, glancing once behind him. He started walking fast down the steps, and I didn't understand what was happening until the door to Paradise opened and an annoyed-looking girl stepped out.

“Hey!” she called, as my dad started walking even faster. “Sir? You're not supposed to take the sample spoons!”

I looked at my dad, feeling my jaw fall open as he tossed the keys in my direction. I caught them with one hand, which surprised me so much I almost dropped them again. “Unlock the car,” he said to me, now breaking into a run. “I think we should get out of here.”

The girl was still standing in the doorway glaring at him,
phone held out in one hand, like she was debating calling the police. I unlocked the car, and Toby and I got in just a second before my dad did. He handed me the pint of ice cream, I handed him the keys, and he started the car and roared out of the parking lot. “You
stole
the sample spoon?”

“Well, she didn't want to give it to me,” my dad said, glancing into the rearview mirror once, like he was making sure the Paradise security team wasn't giving chase. “I offered to pay her for it,” he said, slowing down a little now as he must have realized that he wasn't actually involved in a high-speed pursuit. “Here,” he said, pulling a spoon out from his shirt pocket, then glanced behind him at Toby. “Did we get the pizza?”

She nodded. “And a slogan with a pun in it,” she said. “So I think we're in pretty good shape.” She leaned forward, motioning for me to give her my phone. “How are we on time?”

“We have thirty-five minutes left,” I said. I looked at the list. “We need a place where we can get a lot of little stuff, because some of them have big points value, for some reason.”

“I know where to go,” Toby said, leaning forward between the front seats. “Mr. Walker?”

“Talk to me, Toby,” he said, and she grinned.

“Take the right up there,” she said. “And step on it.”

Six pretty harrowing minutes later, my dad screeched up at the entrance to the gas station/mini-mart and swung into an open parking space with a spin of the wheel. I had a feeling it was going to be hard for him to return to regular driving after this, and not driving while pretending to be James Bond.

“Are you sure you don't want help?” I asked, turning to look at Toby.

“No,” Toby said, hand already on the car door handle. “This one is all me.”

I nodded, even as I snuck a glance at the clock. We only had half an hour left, and we still had to make it back to the Winthrop statue, but Toby felt she had something to prove and was insisting on doing this alone.

“How long did she say she needed for this?” my dad asked a minute later, looking straight ahead through the glass doors, where we could see Toby dashing up one aisle and down another, then doubling back to the first one. While there were a few people pumping gas, there was nobody in the mini-mart except the guy behind the counter, which, judging from how crazy Toby was looking from out here, was probably a good thing.

I glanced down at the time I'd set on my phone. “She said she only needs seven minutes.” I wasn't sure she was going to make it, since she was still running around the store and she had only three minutes left.

“I'll take that action,” my dad said, raising his eyebrows at me.

“You think she can't do it?” I asked, as we both watched Toby come to a standstill, apparently distracted by the magazine display.

“If she can't, I get to pick what we watch on Sunday,” my dad said. “If she can, it's your pick.” I looked at Toby, who was back in motion, and nodded.

“Deal.” We shook on it, and I looked back at the mini-mart, willing Toby to move faster. My dad and I had fallen into the habit of having lazy, stay-around-the-house Sundays. We usually seemed to both wind up in my dad's study, where I'd pretend to read my textbooks and he'd pretend to read his latest historical
biography while we basically just watched TV all day. Last week my dad had decided to be proactive about it, and had DVR'd a John Wayne marathon. I'd rolled my eyes, but it actually hadn't been that bad, though I was looking forward to getting him back with a marathon of my own.

I glanced down at the countdown clock on my phone, then turned it over, knowing if I didn't I'd just stare at it the whole time. I leaned back in my seat and looked around, suddenly realizing where we were—at the mini-mart almost on the Hartfield border. I glanced over at my dad, wondering for a second if he knew. My mom had always said it was our secret, but I was a kid then, so I'd never actually been sure.

I took a breath, then said, “Did Mom ever tell you we used to come here?”

My dad just looked at me. “Where?” he asked, sounding confused. “The gas station?”

“Not really,” I said, closing my eyes for just a second and remembering. My mom gently shaking me awake, the smile on her face as I struggled to bring her into focus. “Andie,” she'd whisper. “Want to go have an adventure?”

“It was when you were working in D.C.,” I said, the words coming slowly. I'd never talked about this to anyone before. It had been something just between my mother and me, all those magical nights where time seemed to stop, and for a little while it was like we were the only people awake in the world, like the stars were shining for us alone. “I never knew when it was going to happen. She said it was when life was getting too ordinary.”

“That sounds like her,” my dad said, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth, his voice quiet.

“She'd wake me up,” I said, smiling just remembering it, how it somehow felt exciting just to be out and driving around in a car in my cupcake pajamas. “We'd drive all over in the Mustang with the top down. And we'd always end up here.”