Something Like Gravity by Amber Smith

Author:Amber Smith
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Margaret K. McElderry Books

MAIA

I WATCHED CHRIS WALK BACK across the field, and I pressed my hands against my cheeks, opening and closing my mouth, all the muscles in my face strained from laughing so much.

Dad was in the kitchen washing his hands at the sink, his microwave dinner box sitting open on the counter. Glancing over his shoulder at me, he said, “Everything work out?”

“Yeah,” I told him.

He turned around and grabbed the dish towel that was hanging off the handle of the stove. “Good.”

“Daddy?” I couldn’t help thinking back to our last interaction in the kitchen the night before, the look on his face when he walked away. “Thanks again for helping.”

“You’re welcome.” He dried his hands, looking down once again, like he was stopping himself from saying more. “You know,” he added. “You could’ve just asked me for help to begin with.”

Really, could I have, though? Instead I said another version of the truth: “I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Bother me?” He smiled—actually smiled, for the first time in I don’t know how long. “What do you think dads are for?”

I’m not sure anymore. But I didn’t say that either.

“Well, thanks again. I’m sure you saved us hours of not knowing what we were doing.”

As I started to walk away, he called me back. “Wait, Mai?”

“Yeah?”

“That boy,” he began. “Nice kid. Seemed, anyway.”

I shrugged, nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.” I didn’t want to appear too enthusiastic. About Chris. About this conversation. About anything, really.

“Is he . . .” He paused, and looked at me, hard, like he was waiting for the word to magically appear in the air between us. “Funny?” he finally finished, uncertain.

It took me a second to make sense of his intonation. I thought maybe he had heard us laughing, but no, he wasn’t talking ha-ha-comedy funny. I was going to make him say what he meant—that’s what Mallory would have done.

“Hilarious,” I replied, crossing my arms.

He rolled his eyes, either at me or himself, I couldn’t tell. “You know what I mean.”

“No.” I looked up at the ceiling, pretending to consider it. “I don’t think I do.”

He lowered his voice and said, “I meant gay, Maia.”

“Gay?” I repeated more loudly, and I saw him look over my shoulder toward the door, just in case Chris was still out there or had somehow developed superhuman hearing. “You know that’s not a bad word, right?”

“I know that, thank you very much.” He turned back toward the counter and unpacked the plastic tray of frozen food and held it between his hands, picking at the edge of the plastic film. “I was just wondering. Something about him, I don’t know. I just thought—maybe?”

My parents were weird about plenty, but never stuff like this. They were pretty liberal. They taught us to be too, so I had no idea where this conversation was coming from, or where it was heading.

“Dad, how would I know?” I finally answered.

“Okay, okay,” he said, holding his hands up. “I won’t bring it up again.”

“Wait, why does it even matter?” I demanded.

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