Telling Dad and Papa about dinner with Indie was going to be...weird, at best. For a lot of different reasons.
Walking into the house, I could smell the sweet spice of curry boiling on the stove.
“Dad?” I called, turning into the kitchen to see the two of them doing the same thing I'd seen them do since I was a little girl.
“Dawson, come try the roti.” Dad replied, lifting a plate beside him. I walked up, seeing him hover over the container of dough. Grabbing the round flatbread, I leaned against the counter, tearing it into tiny pieces in my hand.
I didn't look up when I let the words come out, “I met someone.”
Papa spoke over the steaming pot “Oh yeah? A new friend for you and Emma?”
“Not exactly.” I popped the spongy food in my mouth “He hasn't met Emma yet; at least not formally, I don't think.”
“A boy?” Dad stared at me, and Papa turned around, staring over the rims of his glasses. I looked away, turning my attention to the roti. I studied the brown spots, the stack larger than I expected for the three of us.
Papa prodded, “Dawson, is this the boy you talked to from the diner?”
“Well...” I turned, scrunching my shoulders up as I leaned against the counter, pressing my hands down to support me “Yeah.”
Dad nodded, looking at Papa and back at me “When do we meet him?”
No. Not yet. It was too soon. Way, way too soon.
“Not yet. We haven't even had a date yet.” I shook my head, “That's...kind of what I wanted to talk to you about. Your dinner thing in Portland is on Saturday, right? So you're going to be gone all night?”
Dad shook his head “Dawson Julian, you are not thinking of...”
“Now, wait a minute, Oliver.” Papa raised his hand in warning “Dawson, how long have you known this boy?”
I fidgeted, “I don't know. Two weeks? But, it's not like...It's not a date date.” So I fudge the truth a little. What could it hurt? “He eats all his food at the diner. I just want to give him a nice, home-cooked meal. We're...hanging out.”
Dad looked at Papa, “Dom, tell me you're not considering this.”
Papa shrugged, “Why not? Like Dawson said, it's just dinner. And besides, it's better that she's not home alone.”
“Exactly.” I chimed in, before Dad shot me a look of warning. I shut up.
“It's not just that,” Dad turned to Papa “It's...He's...People talk about him, Dom.”
Papa rolled his eyes, “And here you were at dinner a week ago saying that we shouldn't judge others before we get to know them.”
Oh, burn.
“And besides.” Papa walked over, putting his arms around Dad “Isn't it worth giving someone the benefit of the doubt?”
Dad looked at me, and sighed “My little girl isn't a little girl anymore, Dom.”
Papa smiled, “I know. Why couldn't you just be the first lost girl? Dom, why don't we live in Never-Neverland?”
I rolled my eyes, grabbing the spoon to stir the curry.
Staring at the stove, I debated: pasta, or rice?
The chicken grilled, bubbling up as the breading cooked. Turning it over, I thought about making something for dessert, but remembered we had Neopolitan ice cream in the freezer.
YOU ARE READING
Hometown Hero
Teen FictionDawson Bennet never had a permanent home. Traveling from restaurant to restaurant with her dads, no town held her in one place long enough to get comfortable with anyone. And signs don't look good, now that she's become acquainted with Indie, the to...
