Tagged by Mara Purnhagen

same mom from the week before, and the backseat was full of howling kids. “Can I get five apple juices and a double espresso?” she asked as she dug through her purse.
    â€œUh, sure,” I said, glancing toward the storeroom. I needed Eli to help me but was unsure if I should bother him. One of the kids in the van leaned over his mom and honked the horn and she began yelling at him. Eli stuck his head out the door.
    â€œNeed help?” he asked.
    I nodded and began pulling down cups for the juice. Eli joined me, and we had the order ready within five minutes.
    â€œSorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your conversation. Looks like we’re all clear now.”
    I heard a car peel out of the parking lot and caught a glimpse of Reva behind the wheel of a black sedan, speeding away.
    â€œI’m really sorry, Eli,” I said. “I didn’t mean to cause a problem between you and—”
    â€œForget it,” he interrupted. “She’s wound a little tight right now. It’s not you.”
    â€œWhat about your ride?”
    He raised an eyebrow at me. “Well, looks like I need a favor.”
    I don’t know why I felt my heart flutter a little, but it did.
    Not that it meant anything.

7
    T HERE IS NOTHING MORE AWFUL , more cringe-worthy or more makes-you-wish-you-were-suddenly-invisible than having your dad pick you up in a police car. It might be worse if he picked you up in, say, a hearse with a fresh coffin in the back. Maybe. But a police car is pretty much at the top of the list when it comes to the worst possible ways to take a guy home. A hearse might have a creepy-cool vibe. A police car? Creepy-uncool vibe. I warned Eli ahead of time.
    â€œWe’ll have to sit in the back,” I said. “We’ll look like criminals.” I glanced out the window, expecting Dad to pull in at any moment.
    â€œIt won’t be the first time,” he said. I must have looked shocked, because he laughed. “Kidding.”
    Dad arrived and I introduced him to Eli, who was extremely polite, but I saw Dad smirk when I slid into the backseat. As we pulled out of the front of the parking lot, I noticed Reva’s car turning into the back. I didn’t say anything, though.
    At first, the drive was uncomfortably quiet. Dad asked Eli some questions about how to get to his house, but that was all. The police scanner buzzed and crackled, and we couldhear the dispatcher’s voice reciting numbers and codes in her calm, stoic voice. After one of these announcements, though, Dad perked up.
    â€œHuh,” he said.
    â€œWhat is it?” I wondered if there was any chance he would drag us on a high-speed chase, but I knew he would never go over the speed limit with two “civilian minors” in the car.
    â€œSounds like they’ve discovered another mural.” He turned right at the next light. “Mind if we take a look?”
    I glanced at Eli, who nodded. “Okay,” I said, even though it was definitely not okay. What if there were kids there? Worse, what if this time they were kids we knew? I closed my eyes and willed Dad to change his mind and drive us straight to Eli’s house. No such luck. I slid down in the seat a little and hoped Eli didn’t notice me turning red with embarrassment.
    We slowed down in front of a tuxedo rental place with a huge going-out-of-business banner draped across the front. I didn’t see the gorilla at first, but then Dad turned the corner, and there it was, four feet high and just like the others. “They call this a monkey suit” was painted above the gorilla’s head. I laughed out loud. Eli grinned.
    There was already another police car there, and Dad pulled up alongside it and talked to the officer behind the wheel. The other officer frowned at us, but when he recognized me, he smiled and waved.
    â€œI hope you don’t do this to all Kate’s boyfriends,” he