“That’s Lee,” I said, feeling a bit relieved.

I ended up driving south on the highway toward Phoenix. Not a lot to see that direction—less forest and more scrubby desert hills, which kind of fit my mood. Contemplative but indecisive, like miles of sagebrush and manzanita, punctuated with beavertail cactus.

I turned around at the junction with the road to Roosevelt Lake, having used up about half the time before my rendezvous with Lee. True to the essence of the landscape, I had made no decision other than not to decide.

I considered driving over to Lee’s but passed the turnoff beside the country club without even looking at the sign. Lee’s mom was City Treasurer and kind of scary intense, with a penetrating stare that seemed very judgmental. Really, very opposite to Lee’s personality, but both were scary smart.

I didn’t make a decision, but I came to a conclusion. I liked Lee, and I wanted to see the movie. So I headed for home again, intending to get there at about ten before two.

* * *

I went in through the kitchen door to find Mom stirring up some orangeade. “There you are,” she said, smiling. “Taste this. I know you don’t like it too sweet.” She held out a glass to me. We made it from our own oranges in summer, but this late in the fall, she probably had to buy oranges at the store.

No ice. None of us liked ice in our drinks. I took a sip—tart but smooth. I made approving noises. “Thanks, Mom. We’ll probably get something to eat before the movie, so don’t put out any cookies or anything.” I don’t know why I said that.

She looked a bit disappointed but nodded agreement. She poured another glass for Molly, who had magically appeared.

“Cookies?” Molly asked.

“Pete says no,” Mom informed her.

Molly frowned at me, then shouted. “Pete’s here!”

Which brought Jordan into the room. “There you are!” She said, frowning at me too. “Do you want me to touch up the makeup on your eye?”

“Uh, no,” I declined.

“Makeup? What’s wrong with your eye?” Mom asked.

“Petey’s got a shiner,” Molly commented.

Just then the doorbell rang. “That’s Lee,” I said, feeling a bit relieved. “I’ll get it!”

But Mom grabbed my arm. “Let Jordan,” she said. “You never answer the door yourself, honey. Gotta make the boy appreciate you more with a bit of anticipating.”

“Mom!” I almost yelped, but kept it down so Lee wouldn’t hear. Jordan was already on the way to the door in the living room, Molly skipping behind her.

“Let me see that eye,” Mom commanded, holding me in place. “How in the world did you get a mouse at an ice cream party?”

“Gatecrashers,” I said. “Jo and I tossed them out, but I guess I got clocked in the scuffle.”

She scowled at me, touching a finger to my cheek. “Football and fighting, someone might actually think you’re a—”

“Gaylen!” Jordan shouted from the front room. “Leland Frick is here!”

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