• 
• 
• 
• 

THE MORNING AFTER

I bolted awake. A police siren.

The police were outside my house. Ready to arrest me for underage partying, excessive flirting, and an overcrowded hot tub.

But wait.

Brain turned on. No, not the cops. Just my phone --- my dad's ringtone.

Which was even worse.

I rummaged around the futon. No phone. Instead I felt a leg. A guy's leg. A guy's leg flung over my ankle. A guy's leg that did not belong to my boyfriend.

Oh God. Oh God. What have I done?

WEEEooooWEEEooooWEEEoooo!

Upstairs. The siren ring was coming from upstairs, the main level of Vi's house.

Maybe if I closed my eyes, just for a teeny-tiny second . . . No! Phone ringing. In bed with not my boyfriend. I managed to get myself out of the futon without disturbing him and --- um, where were my pants? Why was I in bed with a guy who was not my boyfriend without any pants?

At least I had underwear on. And a long-sleeved shirt. I looked around for some pants. The sole item of clothing within grabbing distance was Vi's red dress that I wore last night for the party.

That dress was trouble.

I ran up the stairs bare-legged. At the top, I almost passed out.

It looked like a war zone. Empty plastic cups littered the wooden floor. Half-eaten tortilla chips were planted in the shag carpet like pins on a bulletin board. A large blob --- punch? Beer? Something I'd be better off not identifying? --- had stained the bottom half of the pale blue curtain. A white lace bra hung from the four-foot cactus.

Brett was in surfer shorts, face-planted on the couch. He was using the purple linen tablecloth as a blanket. Zachary was asleep in one of the dining room chairs, wearing an aluminum foil tiara on his lolled-back head. The patio door was open --- and a puddle of rain had flooded the carpet.

WEEEooooWEEEooooWEEEoooo! Phone was louder. Closer. But where? The kitchen counter? The kitchen counter! Nestled between a saucer of cigarette butts and an empty bottle of schnapps! I dove toward it. "Hello?"

"Happy birthday, Princess," my dad said. "Did I wake you?"

"Wake me?" I asked, my heart thumping. "Of course not. It's already" --- I spotted the microwave clock across the room --- "nine thirty-two."

"Good, because Penny and I are almost there."

"Almost in New York?" I asked.

"Almost in Westport. Almost at your place!"

Terror seized me. "What does that mean?"

My dad laughed. "We decided to surprise you on your birthday. It was actually Penny's idea."

"Wait. For real?"

"Of course for real! Surprise!"

My head was spinning, and I felt like vomiting and it wasn't just because of the many, many, definitely too many glasses of spiked punch I had consumed last night. My father could not see this place. No, no, no.

Oh God. I'd violated 110 percent of my dad's rules. The evidence was all around, mocking me.

This wasn't happening. It couldn't happen. I would lose everything. If, after last night, I had anything left to lose. I took a step and a tortilla chip attacked my bare foot. Owww.

Mother friggin' crap.

"That's great, Dad," I forced myself to say. "So . . . you're at LaGuardia?"

It would take them at least an hour to drive here from the airport. Could I make this house look presentable in an hour? I would find some pants. Then I would toss the bottles and cups and cigarette butts and vacuum the tortilla chips and maybe the bra, maybe even Brett and Zachary ---

"Nope, we just drove through Greenwich. We should be there in twenty minutes."

Twenty minutes?!

There was groaning from the couch. Brett flipped onto his back and said, "It's eff-ing freezing in here."

"April, there's not a boy over, is there?" my dad asked.

I sliced my hand through the air to tell Brett to shut the hell up.

"What? No! Of course not! Vi's mom is listening to NPR."

"We just passed the Rock Ridge Country Club. Looks like we're making better time than I thought. We'll be there in fifteen minutes. Can't wait to see you, Princess."

"You too," I choked out, and hung up. I closed my eyes. Then opened them.

Two half-naked boys in the great room. One in a tiara. More half-naked boys in the bedrooms.

A hundred empty bottles of booze.

And Vi's mom nowhere in sight.

I was a dead princess.

number one:
lied to our parents

THREE MONTHS EARLIER
"How would you like to finish high school in Cleveland?" my dad asked me out of nowhere during Christmas break of junior year.

Fine. Maybe it wasn't completely out of nowhere.

THREE MONTHS, ONE MINUTE, AND THIRTY SECONDS EARLIER
"April, can you sit down? We need to talk to you about an important issue."

This should have tipped me off that something disconcerting was about to take place. But at the time, I was too busy multitasking to pick up on the signals. It was Thursday night, nine fifty-five, and Marissa had just dropped me off in time for my ridiculous ten o'clock (even during Christmas holidays) curfew. I was standing in front of the fridge debating between grapes or an apple for my evening snack and contemplating if tomorrow night was finally the right time to have sex with Noah.

I was leaning toward the apple. Even though what I really wanted was chocolate fudge cake. But since Penny didn't eat junk food, especially chocolate junk food, the likelihood of finding chocolate fudge cake in our fridge was about as high as finding a unicorn in our backyard.

As for the other thing . . . the one that made me want to jump on my bed and hide under the covers . . . it was time. I loved Noah. He loved me. We had waited long enough. We had planned on doing it over the break, but my brother, Matthew, had been here until this morning. Tonight, Noah had a party he had to go to with his parents and on Saturday he was leaving for Palm Beach.

Tomorrow was the only time. Plus, my dad and Penny had a dinner party in Hartford, an hour away, so that would leave me an empty house from about six to midnight. Sex would not take six hours. Would it?

I guessed it would take thirty minutes, tops. Or an hour. Or three minutes.

I was ready. Wasn't I? I'd told Noah I was ready. I had convinced myself I was ready. Ready to have sex with Noah. Noah who had dimples when he smiled. Noah who'd been my boyfriend for two years.

I grabbed the apple, rinsed it, then took a large bite.

But was it a bad idea to do it the night before he left for a week in Palm Beach? What if I freaked out the next day and he was at the bottom of the country?

"You're dripping," my stepmom said, eyes darting back and forth between the offending fruit and the white-tiled floor. "Pretty please, use a plate and sit down?" Penny was obsessed with cleanliness. The way most people carried around a cell phone, Penny carried around hand-sanitizing wipes.

I took a plate and a seat at the table, across from them. "So what's up?"

"And a place mat," she added.

Then came my father's contribution: "How would you like to finish high school in Cleveland?"

The question did not sound like English. It made zero sense to me. I wasn't going to Cleveland. I'd never been to Cleveland. Why would I be going to school there? "Huh?"

My dad and Penny stole quick glances at each other and then refocused on me. "I'm starting a new job," he said. The kitchen was suddenly a hundred degrees. "But you already have a job," I explained slowly. He worked for a hedge fund right here in Westport, Connecticut.

"This is a better job," he said. "A very lucrative job.
Very."

"But --- why do you need two jobs?" In retrospect, I was being dense. But they were throwing massive information bombs at me. Cleveland! New job! Place mat!

"I don't need two jobs," he said slowly. "That's why I'm quitting Torsto and taking the job at KLJ in Cleveland." My brain was refusing to process this information. "You're moving to Cleveland?"

"We're moving to Cleveland," he said, sweeping his right hand to include all three of us. My dad, Penny. And me. I choked on a piece of apple.

What? Me? In Cleveland? No. No, no, no. Not happening. I gripped the arms of my chair. I was not moving. They would not, could not, make me let go of this chair.

"We're all moving to Cleveland," Penny piped in. "On January third."

Ten days. They wanted me to move in ten days? Wait. But. "You asked me if I would like to finish high school in Cleveland. My answer is no. I would not."

They looked at each other again. "April," Penny said. "My folks have already found some terrific schools for you to . . ."

As she rattled on, panic grabbed hold of my throat and tightened its grip. I wasn't going to Cleveland. I wasn't leaving my life. I wasn't leaving Marissa. Or Vi. I wasn't leaving Noah. I wasn't leaving Westport smack in the middle of junior year. Not happening. No way. "No thanks," I managed, my voice squeaky and weird.

Penny giggled nervously and then added, "We found a very nice house in . . ."

I took another bite of my apple and willed myself not to hear them. Lalalala.

If I didn't leave Westport to move to Paris with Mom and Matthew, I wasn't leaving to move to Cleveland with them. And why Cleveland? Penny's parents were there so we had to be there too? Was it all about her? My head started to spin.

". . . wonderful because you're right in time for the new semester --- "

"I. Am. Not. Moving," I said with as much force as I could muster.

They stared at me again, obviously unsure how to react. Penny played with the tip of my place mat.

I couldn't leave. I couldn't, I couldn't. I tried to blink away the black spots that were suddenly dancing before my eyes. There had to be a way out. An escape. "I'll stay here," I said quickly. "I can stay here, can't I?" Yes. That was it. They could go. I would stay. Ta-da! Problem solved.

"You absolutely cannot stay here by yourself," Penny said.

Air. Need air. My dad leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and his chin in the palm of his hand. "We're going to rent out the house until the market gets better and then we're planning on selling it."

"Don't rent it! Or rent it to me! I'll stay!" Not that I had any money. But it was all I could think of.

"You are not staying here without us," my stepmom told me. "That's ridiculous. And it's not safe."

Wait a sec. I caught my breath, anger pushing out the panic. I narrowed my eyes at my betrayer of a father. "This is why you two were in Cleveland last month?"

He nodded, a bit sheepishly.

"I thought you were visiting Penny's parents. Why didn't you tell me you were interviewing?" I had been oblivious, enjoying the weekend with Marissa's family. Lalala clueless me.

Another look with Penny. "We didn't want to worry you."

Yeah, why would I want some time to get used to the idea? Much better to spring it on me like a knife-wielding jack-in-the-box. "But now it's all set?"

"Yes," he said. "I gave my notice yesterday."

So Penny, Penny's parents, and my dad's company knew before I did. Way to make a daughter feel important. Did Matthew know too? Did Mom know?

"It's a beautiful city, April," Penny said, rubbing her hands together like she was washing them. "I loved living there. And it's very culturally interesting. Did you know the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame is there?"

The panic set in again. "I can't move," I said, struggling for air. "I just can't."

"Is this about Noah?" she asked.

"No, it's not about Noah." Of course it was about Noah. Noah, who had filled my room with fifty helium balloons on my sixteenth birthday. Noah who helped me lug all my suitcases and badly taped boxes from my mom's to my dad's. Noah who had the softest hands I'd ever held. Noah who called me his cutie.

But it was not just about Noah. It was about Marissa and Vi and my whole life. I couldn't leave everything --- everyone --- behind. I couldn't start over with only the two of them. My dad and I were close, but now he had Penny, and Penny and I . . . we didn't have much of a relationship. She tried to connect, I tried to connect, my father tried to connect us, but it was like we had walkie-talkies that were on different frequencies. Moving to Ohio with them would be lonely. Too lonely.

"You'll meet lots of new boys," Penny said.

"It's not about Noah," I repeated, louder, over the sound of my pounding head. What was I going to do? I could not move to Cleveland in ten days. I needed a plan. Fast. They were four seconds away from packing me up and tossing me halfway across the country. "I have friends here. I have . . ." What else did I have? "Soccer. School." I was grasping at straws, but I needed to get through to them. I had only recently started to feel settled again. I couldn't just move. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

"You'll make new friends. And soccer season is over," Penny said, reaching to pat me and then apparently deciding not to. "You can play on a new team next year in Cleveland. And you can still keep in touch with everyone back here."

I didn't want to keep in touch. I knew all about keeping in touch and I hated it. And now I'd have to do it with Noah and all my friends. Were Cleveland and Connecticut even in the same time zone? Where was Cleveland exactly?

The black spots returned to the corners of my eyes. If I moved to Cleveland, I'd wake up every morning wishing I was still in Westport. I'd wake up every morning in the big black hole. I couldn't let that happen. There had to be another way. Someone I could stay with here. Marissa? I sat up straighter. Yes! Maybe. No. In theory, her family would be happy to have me, but they really didn't have the space. Marissa already shared a room with her sister. I couldn't exactly sleep in her trundle bed for the rest of the year.

Noah? Ha. Sure, I loved him, and I got along with his parents and siblings, but I wasn't ready to share a bathroom with any of them.

And that left . . .Vi.

Wait. That was it. "I can live with Vi!" Yes, yes, yes!

"You want to live with your friend Violet?" my dad asked.

"Yes!" I exclaimed. My ribs expanded as hope poured in.

"I can move in with Vi."

"You can't live with a friend," Penny said, emphasizing the word friend like I had said "family of anacondas."

"Not just a friend," I rushed to explain. "A friend and her mom." This could work. It could really work. Vi had a funky house on Saugatuck Island, right on Long Island Sound. All you could see from her living room windows was water.

"I don't think it's appropriate for you to move in with another family," my dad said. "And I doubt Vi's mother would agree to it."

Well, I didn't think it was appropriate --- or fair --- for them to yank me out of school in the middle of my junior year. "Vi's mom will be completely cool with it. Last year they volunteered to host an exchange student but it didn't work out. Suzanne's really laid back."

Dad's eyebrows went up.

"Not too laid-back," I added quickly. "Plus, the basement is already set up like a bedroom. Has its own bathroom and everything. I could at least ask, couldn't I? And then we could talk about it some more? We could at least consider it?" Penny wrinkled her nose. "You want to move into a basement? Basements are cold and drafty."

"I don't mind." A basement in Westport was better than any room in Cleveland.

"I don't know," Penny said, shaking her head.

It's not up to you, I wanted to say but didn't. I pointedly looked at my dad, and did my best to appear reasonable and mature. Speaking slowly, I said, "There's no point in me moving all the way to Cleveland now. I have six months left of the year. Let me finish it here. At Hillsdale. I love Hillsdale. I'll be fine at Vi's. She'd love to have me."

A furrow formed in Dad's brow.

"Please?"

"But what about next year? Isn't Vi a senior?" my dad asked.

"Let's deal with this year first. If I have to move next year, I'll move next year." There was no way I was moving next year either. But who knew what the situation would be by then? Once upon a time I lived with my mother, father, and brother at 32 Oakbrook Road, but that had changed too. "Who knows? Maybe you'll hate Cleveland and want to come back. Or maybe Vi will still be here next year." Yeah, right. Vi had big plans and they involved colleges far, far away from Westport. "Can't we try Vi's for this semester? Please?" By the final please I had tears in my eyes and a quivering lip.

No one spoke.

I wasn't sure what I expected. I kind of doubted they were actually going to let me move in with a friend. I wouldn't have let me move in with a friend. When the pause continued, I thought I was done for.

"I guess we can talk to Violet's mother," my dad said at last.

I jumped out of my chair and threw my arms around him.

TINY COMPLICATION
I left two messages on Vi's cell on Thursday night but she didn't call me back. She was probably busy with some sort of party. We're Jewish, so to me it was the Day Dad Told Me He Was Moving, but to the majority of the world it was Christmas. I hadn't told her the details, only that I needed to talk to her.

She called me back the next day at eleven.

"Everything okay?" she asked. "I just called in for my messages. My mother borrowed my cell yesterday and can't remember where she left it."

I filled her in, then held my breath. What if after all this Vi didn't want me there?

"Of course you can live with me! Of course my mom won't mind! I absolutely cannot let you move to Cleveland! Hells no!"

Whoosh --- I exhaled with relief.

"We're going to be housemates!" she squealed.

I would have used the word roommates myself, but Vi was a housemates type of girl. Housemate sounded sophisticated. Roommate was for kids. Vi was also the type of girl who hated being called a "girl." She was a woman, thank you very much. She drank wine, wore her hair in a short black bob, worked out every morning, edited the school paper, and read the New York Times daily. "Girl" would not do. Vi rocked.

Vi and I went to the same preschool. Back then the classes were mixed, three- and four-year-olds together. Vi and I bonded. Our moms bonded. Eventually Suzanne and my mom lost touch, but Vi and I stayed friends over the years even though we weren't in the same grade, even though we didn't run in the same crowds. Sometimes we overlapped --- like the night of The Incident. But usually we stayed to our own social circles. We always stayed friends though.

"We're going to have a blast," she continued.

We would have a blast. Living with Vi and Suzanne would not be like living with my dad and Penny.

Let's take a second to compare, shall we?

Every bed in our house was required to have hospital corners. I was told to please use a pillow if I was going to lean against my linen headboard. Vi and her mom, on the other hand, both had water beds. I'd never seen Suzanne's water bed made. Vi's house smelled like cinnamon incense. Mine smelled like hand wipes with a splash of Lysol. Due to The Incident, my curfew was ten P.M. Suzanne did not believe in curfews. Anyway, they'd be tough to enforce since her shows usually went until eleven and she herself was never home before one at the earliest.

One more Suzanne/my dad comparison: Suzanne was spontaneous. She had last-minute potluck dinners and marathon movie nights. My dad and Penny scheduled sex. Every Tuesday and Saturday at eleven. I tried to be asleep. It wasn't like it was on the calendar, but I could hear the Barry Manilow playing like clockwork. Can you imagine . . . scheduling sex? Could anything be less romantic?

Okay, so Noah and I were trying to schedule sex --- tonight?! --- but clearly, that was for a different reason. We couldn't spontaneously get a place to ourselves.

"This is perfect," Vi continued. "You have no idea how perfect. My mother was just offered the lead role in the traveling production of Mary Poppins."

I laughed. "Your mother is playing Mary Poppins?"

"Yes. I see the irony."

"For how long?"

"It's a six-month contract. The show starts in Chicago for six weeks and then moves around the country. She'll be relieved if I have someone to hang out with."

Holy crap. "The two of us . . . in your house?" The two of us. In her beach house. With no parents.

"Hells yeah! Isn't that perfect?"

"Your mom is fine with leaving you alone?"

"Darling. Finding work is tough these days, and my mom's not getting any younger or any thinner. She's twice the size she used to be. If she's offered Traveling Mary Poppins, she's taking Traveling Mary Poppins."

Suzanne had been a midlevel Broadway star. Then she'd gotten knocked up by a cute Brit. Then, cute Brit dumped her for a cute Australian. Suzanne moved back home to Westport so her mom could help with baby Violet, and Suzanne became a waitress and did community theater. When Vi started high school, Suzanne started acting again in the city. The roles hadn't been great. A lead role was huge. So I should have been happy for Suzanne --- and I was --- but if she was going to be Mary Poppins in Chicago . .. then I was going to be Le Misérable in Ohio.

I fell back on my bed. "Vi, my dad is not going to let me stay at your house without your mom there."

There was silence on the other end of the phone. "Why not?"

"My father is a big believer in supervision."

"But we'd have so much fun."

"So much fun," I answered forlornly. "Oh God, I'm going to have to move to Ohio." The black spots were returning. I covered my eyes with my hands. "Why is my father ruining my life? Whose parents get up and move to another city?"

"Mine."

Right. "Why don't we have normal parents?"

Another pause. "Maybe my mom can convince your dad to let us try it out."

"Vi, my dad is never going to let me stay with just you. He won't let me live without a responsible adult on the premises. I don't even think it's legal."

"I would hardly call my mother a responsible adult. Last night she had at least thirty actors over, all drunk and singing show tunes."

"Telling my dad that will not help my case either. I'm screwed. We're screwed."

"No, come on. Just explain that it's not a big deal. My mother will call him when she wakes up."

"It's eleven."

"She went to bed late." She let out a long, pondering sigh. "Perhaps putting my mom and your dad on the phone together is not our best move. My mom tends to overshare. So here's what we're going to do: Let me talk to him."

"You're not going to be able to talk them into this, Vi." She was good, but not that good. Last year, she'd won the school's public-speaking competition. Her topic had been "how to win a public-speaking competition." She was very convincing.

"What if he thinks I'm my mother?"

"Scusies?" My toes curled in my socks.

"He calls the house phone. He thinks I'm her. I tell him that I'm delighted to have you live with us, and I just don't mention the traveling-around-the-country bit."

Huh. "We just don't tell him?"

"Exactly. What he doesn't know . . ."

"Omigod, that's insane. I can't do that." My breath grew shallow. I wasn't the kind of person who did something like that.

"Then move to Cleveland."

I could not move to Cleveland. Not now. Not eight days after I was about to do it with my boyfriend. Not in the middle of the year. Not ever.

I heard myself say, "What number should he call you on?"

THE INCIDENT
It was the beginning of sophomore year.

I was not yet aware how strong wine coolers were. They tasted like lemonade but before you knew it you were on the sand doing mermaid impressions.

Me, Vi, Marissa, and Vi's friend Joanna had gotten drunk on Compo Beach. Lucy Michaels had videotaped us with her iPhone, and shared the video with her mom.

Unfortunately, Lucy's mother was the new school guidance counselor.

After Mrs. Michaels told all of our parents --- and showed them the video --- here's what happened:

Joanna got a lecture.

Marissa was grounded for a week.

Vi's mother said, "So? They didn't drive home afterward, did they?" (We didn't. Vi's friend Dean had picked us up.)

But me? I was grounded for two weeks, plus I got a ten P.M. curfew --- indefinitely.

Yes, I'd been the one rolling around in the sand declaring I was a mermaid. I was also the one who'd asked Dean to pull over so I could throw up, but my dad didn't have video evidence of that tidbit.

It probably hadn't helped that I had only moved into my dad's place six days earlier.

He and Penny had many closed-door conversations and then, eventually, it was decided that I would have to be home by ten P.M. every night, even on weekends, so I would not get into any more trouble. As if trouble only happened after ten P.M.

"Don't you realize how dangerous it is for a girl to be roaming around drunk?" my father asked, shaking his head. "I thought you had better judgment."

"I did," I said. "I do." I hugged my knees into my chest and tried to disappear into my bed.

His voice was spiked with disappointment. "I don't understand why. I know you didn't act out like this when you lived with your mother. At least I hope you didn't."

"I didn't," I said, which was true. I had always been good. Sure, I'd had a few sips of alcohol before, but that night on Compo Beach was the first time I'd gotten plastered.

"Then why now?"

Because it had seemed like a fun idea? Beach! Wine coolers! Mermaid! Also, I was pissed at Noah (because of The Corinne Situation) and wanted to show him I could have a crazy, fun night without him. "I don't know," I said. "I'm sorry, Dad."

"Penny thinks you're acting out because you're mad at your mother for moving away."

I shook my head, but I didn't actually answer the question.

WHY LUCY MICHAELS RATTED US OUT
Who knows? She was always walking by herself, staring at people. She had big navy eyes that never blinked. You could watch her in class for fifteen minutes and those eyelids would not flutter. At the time of The Incident she'd been a sophomore like me, although she'd just moved to Westport and I'd lived there my whole life.

Ratting us out the first week she started at Hillsdale was not a brilliant strategy for making friends.

BACK TO CLEVELAND
My dad and I were sitting in the living room, on opposite sides of the suede couch, when he called "Suzanne."

I was dying to scoot closer to him so I could possibly hear what Vi was saying, but I decided that listening to the full conversation might spark a cardiac arrest.

"Hello, Suzanne, this is Jake Berman, April's dad. How are you?" my dad boomed.

I had a mini–heart attack even without hearing Vi's response.

"Great, great, so nice to hear . . ." he continued. "Yes, thank you. Now about April coming to stay with you --- "

My hands started shaking, like I had overdosed on coffee. When I couldn't steady them, I decided I was better off leaving the room than giving myself away. If my dad suspected he was talking to Vi instead of Suzanne, it was over.

I hurried over to the kitchen and tried to shut out his voice.

" --- inconvenienced in any way --- "

La, la, la.

" --- she'll have an allowance for food --- "

Sounded promising . . .

" --- Yes, responsibility --- "

Don't listen. Pace instead. Yes, I told myself. Pace. Up and down the kitchen. But not too loudly. Sound busy. Very busy opening and closing the fridge. Hello, fridge. Hello, apples. Hello, grapes. Hello, low-fat mozzarella. Maybe I should wash my hands. Drown out the sound. I turned on the water, nice and loud, then lathered and rinsed. Then lathered and rinsed again. I couldn't believe I was doing this. Lying to my dad. Living with Vi was the right thing to do, wasn't it? What if my dad said no? What if he said yes? When I turned off the water, there was silence. I wanted to run back into the living room but refrained.

"Dad?" I said tentatively.

No answer. Oh God. He'd figured it out. Vi had cracked. I was dead. I braced myself before entering the living room.

He was typing into his BlackBerry, but he stopped when I came in. "Well, Princess" --- he exhaled as if he was slightly astonished --- "looks like you can do it if you want to. You can stay with them to finish out the year. Suzanne said the best way to reach her is via email, so I'm sending her my contact details."

She did? You were?

"She's going to be in a production of Chicago this spring --- she offered to get us tickets when we're back in town."

"How generous," I sputtered.

"Are you sure this is what you want to do?" he asked, looking up at me.

As our eyes met, I realized that now it would be me and him that would have to keep in touch.

Oh.

But I couldn't move to Cleveland. I just couldn't. Sure, I was bummed my dad was leaving but what I felt was mostly relief. I was staying. I looked at my hands and said, "Yes."

THE RULES
I reread Noah's IM --- Can't wait for tonight. . . .What time should I come over? --- before replying: Don't come over. I'm so sorry, but we have to postpone. Again. Whole life in upheaval. Can we go somewhere easy? Burger Palace? As I was typing the last word, my dad knocked, opened my door, and handed me a piece of paper. THE RULES was printed across the top.

I'll explain later, I quickly typed, then shut my laptop.

"One," Dad said, reading from his own copy of "The Rules." "You are to keep up your grades."

"Grades," I repeated, swiveling my chair to face him.

"Keep up. Check."

Of course I would keep my grades up. I had a 3.9. I wasn't about to mess with that. Not this semester, when it mattered most.

"If your GPA drops at all, you're on the next plane to Cleveland."

"Absolutely, I understand," I said.

"Next," he continued. "No boys in the house." I  batted my eyelashes. "Am I supposed to stop Vi --- and Suzanne --- from entertaining gentleman callers?"

He laughed. "Don't be smart."

"It's hard to control."

"No Noah in your room. No you and Noah alone in the house." These were his house rules here too.

"So the rule is just for Noah. I can have as many other boys over as I want?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"Dad, I'm joking. No boys. Especially Noah. Keep going."

"Three. No drinking," he said.

"No drinking," I repeated, blushing. "I'm guessing mermaid impersonations are out too?"

He smiled. "Yes. Rule number four: Your curfew will remain intact."

Was he kidding? He wanted me to keep my ten P.M. curfew even though he lived in another city? "Dad, come on --- "

He shook his head, his expression stern. "I'm being serious, April. Your curfew stays. I discussed it with Suzanne."

I was sure "Suzanne" would take my curfew enforcement very seriously. "Okay," I relented.

"I trust you, April. You've definitely proven yourself in the last year and a half."

I nodded and tried to ignore the guilt creeping in when I heard the word trust.

He put his arm on my shoulder and squeezed. "You can tell a lot about a person not just by their successes, but by how they deal with their setbacks, and, hon, I'm very proud of how you complied with your curfew. I don't think you've ever been late."

"I haven't," I said truthfully. Well, except when I stayed over at Marissa's. As long as she checked in via cell every few hours and kissed her parents good night when she got in, she didn't have a curfew. Her parents trusted her --- and kept her close. They kept all five of their kids close. They had dinner together every night, and Friday night, Shabbat dinner, included grandparents, cousins, and close friends. I had a standing invitation, in addition to a mom-crush on Dana, Marissa's mother.

So that was it? Keep up my grades, no drinking, no boys, and my curfew? Doable. Or at least fakeable.

"What should I do about buying things?" I asked. "Like when I need new clothes."

He cleared his throat. "I'll deposit money into an account for you at the beginning of every month. Two hundred will be for rent and an additional two hundred will be for groceries. You'll give that money directly to Suzanne. Plus some extra for you."

"Oh," I said, surprised. "How much in total?"

"A thousand dollars a month."

Holy crap. Was he kidding? A thousand dollars a month? I knew my dad's job paid well . . . but that sounded like a lot of money.

He laughed at the surprise on my face. "It's not just for overpriced jeans, April. It's for rent, food, books, school lunches, entertainment, gas . . ."

"Gas? For what?" Wait. "Am I getting a car?" I squealed.

He squeezed my shoulder again. "It wouldn't be fair for you to have to rely on Violet and Suzanne for transportation."

"Yes! Yes! Thank you thank you thank you thank you!" I jumped out of my chair and threw my arms around him.

"Don't thank me." He kissed me on the forehead. "Thank Penny. She doesn't think you should have to depend on other people to get around. She offered to leave her car here for you," he said, glowing. "I'll get her something new in Ohio." My dad was always trying to prove to me how much Penny cared about me. But if she cared that much, she probably wouldn't be dragging my dad off to Cleveland.

Still. If she could give, I could give.

"Thank you, Penny," I said, and I honestly didn't care if she got a new car and I ended up with the ten-year-old Honda she's had since before she married my dad. I was lucky to get any car. Even one that was bright yellow and reeked of disinfectant wipes. At least it was clean.

My own car! My own money-stocked bank account! My very own basement. With walls adjacent to no one! I felt like the luckiest girl in the world, and if I felt that twinge of guilt, well, I pushed it away. Far away. Like, to Cleveland.

"I expect you to send me a budget every month, tracking how your money is being spent. It will be an excellent learning experience for you. You're going to have to learn to be practical."

"Budget it is. So that's it?" I asked, feet dancing. "We're all set?"

"You're all set."

After my dad finally left the room, I opened my laptop to see if Noah had responded, but he hadn't. I knew he'd be disappointed that tonight would not be the night, but he'd cheer up when he heard the news. I hadn't told him anything about Cleveland or Vi's house yet. I had wanted to get it all sorted first because I hadn't wanted to worry him for no reason. Like father, like daughter, I guess.

I spun my chair back and forth. I couldn't believe it was all happening. That my dad was letting me stay. My dad had asked Suzanne to get together in person, but Vi had told him that they were off to L.A. for the rest of the holidays, but that they'd be back in time for the move and would talk in person then.

I couldn't believe he was letting me stay so easily. If I were a parent, I would . . . well, I don't know what I'd do. I know I'd never get divorced. Not that I can blame my father for that. But still. When I get married I'm going to make the marriage work.

Getting married is forever, no matter what my spouse does.

YOU SAY POTATO, I SAY PROPOSAL
"I like being a couch potato," I told Noah.

It was a Saturday, a year earlier, February of sophomore year. Outside it was freezing --- it hurt to breathe. We were in his basement, on his brown suede couch, under an afghan. I was cuddled in the nook of his arm. His fleece sweater was soft against my cheek. Noah and I hadn't moved in two hours.

He played with a strand of my hair. "Let's stay here forever."

"We may have to eat eventually," I said.

"We'll order in."

"We'd have to get the door." I made walking motions with my fingers.

"My parents will answer it and bring the food to us."

"What about school?" I asked, closing my eyes.

"We'll homeschool."

"My dad might wonder where I am."

"Tell him we ran off and got married."

I laughed. "He likes you, but not that much."

He pulled me tight. "Could you imagine?"

My heart stopped. I opened my eyes. "Running off and getting married?"

"Yeah." He turned to face me. "I could spend every day with you. Right here. On the couch."

My whole body felt warm. Safe. Loved. I traced my finger from his nose to his chin. "I love you," I said. Part of me could do it. Run off and get married. But another part . . . another part of me wondered if I could really trust anyone. If anyone could really trust anyone. If all relationships were doomed.

I couldn't say this to Noah, though.

But . . . there is the small fact that we're fifteen," I said, trying to lighten the mood.

"So?" His eyes lit up. "I love you too. That's why we should do it. It would be fun! And exciting!"

"And illegal. I think you have to be eighteen to get married." I lifted my hands above me to stretch. "We'd also have to get off the couch."

He pressed his hand flat against mine. "I bet we could get a rabbi to come here."

"I'm not sure I could get married in yoga pants. Maybe if they were white instead of black."

"Fair enough." He kissed me on the forehead. "I really would do it, you know."

I snuggled into the softness of his fleece. "So would I," I murmured, not wanting to let go.

TELLING NOAH THE NEWS
"You're not going to believe what's happening," I said the second I got into Noah's car.

His dark hair was damp and wavy just the way I loved it. Tonight he was wearing gray jeans and his puffy neon-yellow jacket that somehow looked cool on him. He was thin and self-conscious about his body --- even though he didn't need to be --- and liked to look bigger. He gave me a big kiss on the lips. "Let me guess. You're going to seduce me in the backseat?"

"Ha, ha, ha," I said. "No. Sorry. I can't deal with sex tonight. My life is too crazy."

"Okay," he said, sounding confused and a little disappointed.

"So yesterday, my dad sits me down and tells me that we're all moving to Cleveland. Cleveland! Not as far as France, but seriously. What is wrong with my parents?"

His smile drooped. "You're leaving?"

"Do you think I'd leave you? No way." I reached over and traced my finger over his knee. "I'm not going anywhere."

"So they're not moving?"

"No. They are. But they're letting me stay with Vi!'"

"Vi?" He looked kind of shocked.

"Yes!"

"You're moving in with Vi?"

"Yes!"

"What about your dad and Penny?"

"They're leaving!"

"And leaving you with Vi. For how long?"

"For the rest of the year. At least the rest of the year. I'm staying in Westport!"

"You're staying in Westport . . . because of me?"

"Yes!" Wait. Kind of. I had been kidding, but now I didn't want to hurt his feelings. "Mostly you. But also Marissa and school and . . . you know. My life is here."

His mouth fell open. "Wow."

"I know! I'm going to live with Vi!"

He cocked his head to the side. "April, I know you think Vi is God incarnate --- "

Huh? "I do not."

"Yeah. You do. But she's kind of intense. Are you sure you want to live with her?"

"Yes," I snapped. "She's one of my best friends. And anyway, I don't have that many options here."

"Isn't Vi's mom kind of a weirdo?" Noah asked.

"No, she's cool, but that doesn't even matter. Because that's the craziest part. She won't be there. She's moving to Chicago for a while. And then Tampa or something. Although my dad doesn't know that."

He shook his head in bewilderment. "Huh?"

I explained it all, my excitement building.

"So it's just you and Vi?" he said when I finished.

"Uh-huh."

"That's . . . amazing," he said, green eyes wide.

"I know."

"When are your dad and Penny leaving? When will you be moving in with Vi?"

"January third, probably. The day you get back." I hated that he was going away. I hated that he was going over New Year's. He always left me over New Year's.

"This is all insane," he said, putting his arm around me. "But I still don't get why we can't have sex in your house tonight."

I rolled my eyes. "Because I'm freaked out. Because if for some reason my parents caught us, they would force me to move to Cleveland and I would never see you again. Because in eight days we will have a whole basement to ourselves."

He smiled. "A whole basement, huh? So we can do it anywhere in the basement?"

"Yes. But we'll probably do it on the bed." I pulled him by his jacket toward me, and kissed him. His lips were soft. Familiar. I kissed him again, harder, then pulled away. "We can still visit your backseat tonight. Just no sex. And not in front of my house. Can't risk my parents taking me away from you."

He took my hand. "Drive, then burger?"

"Let's do it. Well, not it. Love you!" I chirped and blew him a kiss.

"So you keep telling me," he said in that way that sounded like a joke but I could tell wasn't.

I blinked. "I do!" Could he really think the reason I was putting off sex was because I didn't love him?

"I know you love me." He shook his head. "I love you too."

"Eight days and I'm all yours," I said.

He nodded and put the car into DRIVE.

THE FIVE-STEP PROCESS TO LYING TO PARENTS
1. Create two fake pmail accounts.
2. Give Suzanne's fake pmail address to Jake.
3. Give Jake's fake pmail address to Suzanne.
4. Keep emails brief. Include vague details.
5. Get away with it.
_______

EMAILS BETWEEN THE REAL JAKE BERMAN AND THE
FAKE SUZANNE CALDWELL

From: Jake Berman <Jake.Berman@comnet.com>
Date: Sat, 26 Dec, 3:10 p.m.
To: Suzanne Caldwell <Suzanne _ Caldwell@pmail.com>
Subject: Contact Information

Suzanne,
Here is my contact information: You can reach me anytime via email or on my cell, 203-555-3939. I can't thank you enough for taking April in this semester. With everything that's happened in the last few years, I think she feels very tied to Westport and her life here, so I understand why she's so reluctant to leave. I'm glad to have found this solution. I'll deposit money into April's bank account by the first of every month, and she will give you four hundred dollars cash for rent and groceries. Thanks, also, for ensuring she follows my rules --- especially obeying her curfew (10 p.m.). It's a dangerous world. And as we know, teenagers need structure!

Best, Jake
Jake M. Berman, Esq., MBA
CFO
KLJ and Co., Inc.
Sent From BlackBerry
_______

From: Suzanne Caldwell <Suzanne_Caldwell@pmail.com>
Date: Sun, 27 Dec, 12:15 p.m.
To: Jake Berman <Jake.Berman@comnet.com>
Subject: RE: Contact Information
Dear Jake,

April is a delight; we're truly happy to have her. And don't worry about a thing. If she's ever home even a minute after ten, I will contact you ASAP. However, just so you know, cell phone use is discouraged at the theater --- if you have any questions or concerns, the best and fastest way to reach me is via email.

Best of luck with your move to Cleveland,
Suzanne
_______
35

EMAILS BETWEEN THE REAL SUZANNE CALDWELL
AND THE FAKE JAKE BERMAN
From: Suzanne Caldwell <Primadonna@mindjump.com>
Date: Sun, 27 Dec, 2 p.m.
To: Jake Berman <Jake.Berman@pmail.com>
Subject: April
Jake ---

Vi passed on your info --- and I have to tell you I am so thrilled that April will be staying at our place while I'm traveling! She'll be great company for Vi and hopefully they'll keep each other out of trouble! Vi is really responsible, though. More responsible than I was at that age, that's for sure. You wouldn't believe the trouble I got into. Well, maybe you would --- I got pregnant with Violet for one. Ha ha! But seriously, as I told Vi, no rent is required --- I'm grateful that April will be around! Vi gets moody when she's alone for too long! Maybe they can take turns buying groceries or something? Call me anytime on my cell, 203-555-9878.

Cheers!
Suzanne
_______
From: Jake Berman <Jake.Berman@pmail.com>
Date: Sun, 27 Dec, 9:10 p.m.
36
To: Suzanne Caldwell <Primadonna@mindjump.com>
Subject: RE: April
Suzanne ---

Thank you for your email. Congratulations on your upcoming project. Mary Poppins sounds like the perfect role for you. You're very generous about not requiring rent --- we appreciate it! April can definitely pay for groceries and also her share of heat and electricity. I'll leave it up to Vi to figure out. It sounds like she's on top of it. And I can't imagine her being moody --- she's always such a pleasure to be around. She's so smart and self-assured! You should feel lucky to have such a wonderful daughter.

Please continue to contact me via this email address if you have any questions or concerns --- it's the best and fastest way to reach me.

All best,
Jake
_______

HOLY CRAP . . .
Vi was an evil genius. A moody, self-assured, evil genius.

• 
• 
• 
•