Tagged by Mara Purnhagen Page B

said.
    â€œOkay.”
    â€œHe’s off-limits.”
    â€œRight.” Dad nodded like he understood, but I knew he didn’t. I tried changing the subject again.
    â€œSo do you think the gorilla graffiti will make another appearance?” I asked.
    Dad sighed. “Yes. Our guy’s smart. And he’s talented, and he seems to enjoy it. We’ll catch him, I think. Just need some more time.”
    I gazed out the window as we passed trees and houses and made our way to the main road. “What does it all mean?” I murmured.
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œI wonder what they mean, the gorillas. What’s the message? What’s the point?”
    â€œNo point,” Dad said. “Just some prankster having fun. Don’t read too much into it, Kate.”
    I hoped that Eli didn’t read too much into George’s little comment or think that I drove around with my dad all the time, checking out crime scenes. I didn’t know what hethought of me, exactly, but I was pretty sure that he was not looking at me as potential girlfriend material.
    Mom was waiting for us when we got home. She wanted to have an early dinner because she had to get back to work to deal with some cake-related emergency.
    â€œHonestly, Sam should be handling this,” she said after we sat down. She was still wearing her white apron. Little blotches of blue icing were smeared across it.
    â€œDid you tell him that?” Dad asked, his mouth half-full of pot roast.
    â€œHow do you tell your boss that you don’t want to do your job?”
    â€œYou just said it wasn’t your job.”
    â€œIt shouldn’t be, but I handle all the cakes, so technically it is.” Mom sighed. “We have limits for a reason. It’s just not possible to fill this order.”
    I poked at a mushy carrot with my fork. Sometimes I liked to hear my parents discuss work, particularly if they were talking about coworkers they didn’t like. I didn’t think adults talked about other people the same way my friends and I did in the cafeteria, but gossip seemed to cross generations.
    â€œAnd how was your day, Kate?” Mom asked.
    â€œFine.”
    â€œWe took one of Kate’s, uh, friends home.” Dad cleared his throat and I glanced up to see him give Mom one of those meaningful parental looks they thought I never noticed.
    â€œHe’s just someone I work with,” I said. “That’s it.”
    Mom nodded. “And what is his name?” Her smile was a little too wide, like she thought it was all very cute that I liked a guy.
    I stabbed at an overdone potato chunk, mashing it in half. “Eli. His name is Eli. And I don’t want to talk about him.”
    â€œI see.” I knew my parents were exchanging their look again, but I ignored them, and the conversation turned to their weekend plan to buy a new sofa.
    After dinner, I did my homework and put all my laundry in a pile to take downstairs. Then I checked my e-mail, which I hadn’t done in a week. I usually only got spam in my inbox because everyone I knew called my cell phone.
    I was deleting the tenth mortgage offer in a long list of junk mail when I saw it: a message from Eli. I checked the date and time. He had sent it an hour earlier. The subject header read Thanks. My stomach did a little flip.
    Â 
    Hey, Kate—Just wanted to thank you again for the ride home. I owe you one. See you later. Eli.
    Â 
    I read the message five times, then called Lan and read it to her five times.
    â€œWhat do you think?” I asked.
    â€œI think he sent you a thank-you message,” she said, yawning.
    â€œBut it could be more than that, right? I mean, he thanked me when he got out of the car. He didn’t have to send an e-mail.”
    Lan didn’t answer. I thought she was considering the possibility, but her breathing began to slow down.
    â€œLan?”
    â€œHuh? Sorry, must have dozed