I look over his shoulder. "You'd have to get up pretty damn early."
"I know." He nods. "I just can't play hooky. I'm really sorry, but..."
His face bunches with regret.
"I'm not asking you to play hooky." The words come out a little snappier than I mean them to. I guess it just bugs me that he assumes I think skipping out of school is something I never put any thought into. What he will never know is that I've never missed a day of school when I've had an important test and I've never once handed in an assignment late. My hooky days always coincide with the days I can't bear facing the student population. I invite Amber because she's too self-absorbed to notice my moods.
"Should I be calling the police?" Dale's question makes me turn to face him.
"I don't think they take these kinds of cases seriously for at least 48 hours."
"Maybe the sheriff can help us."
"Sheriff Hutton?" I shake my head and start scanning his room. "I doubt it. He tends to be a stickler for the rules."
"What if I tell him what I know."
I bob down to peruse Dale's book collection. "He'll wonder how you know this stuff. You can't tell him you can hear me. Everyone will think you're crazy."
"I can't just sit here and do nothing."
I stand up and face him, loving the fact he wants to try so hard.
"You need food and sleep, Dale. You're no use to me starving and hungry." I keep my voice as casual as I can. I'm right. I'm being sensible. There's nothing more we can do right now.
Fear coils in my belly.
I try to ward it off with distraction and move to Dale's second bookshelf. Man, this guy sure likes to read.
"You have some good titles here," I murmur.
"Yeah, well reading's good for the brain." He steps towards my voice.
I glide past him and move to his desk. It's in disarray with piles of books surrounding his computer. I notice a huge stack of pages in a neat pile and lean over to see what they are.
The Trojan's Secret by Dale Finnigan
"I didn't know you liked writing?"
"Uh," Dale nervously jumps towards his desk. "Don't read that."
"Why not?"
"It's not finished." He picks up the one of his textbooks and covers the first page.
"Fine." I cross my arms and mumble, "Spoil sport," as I turn away.
"It's just that I-"
"Who's the older woman, Mr. Cougar Hunter?" I lean down to inspect the photo I've just spotted. Dale has his arm around a gorgeous woman with dark curls and a beaming smile.
Dale steps up beside me. "Firstly gross and secondly, she's my sister, Rachel."
"Really? How old is she?"
"Thirty." He picks up the photo next to it. "These are her kids Emma and Tim."
I gaze at the three impish grins in the picture. Dale is holding his two ice-cream covered relations. "Look at your face - the proud uncle."
"I can't help it. They are two cutie-pies."
"I can't believe you're an Uncle Dale."
"Yeah, well, Unky Dee at this stage."
He blushes red while returning the picture to its rightful place.
"So..." I look to my feet then casually shrug. "How old's your mom?"
Dale shoves his hands in his pockets and turns away from me.
"What, you're not going to tell me?"
"Look my parents are awesome, okay." He spins back to face me. "I don't need you spreading gossip about them."
"I wouldn't!" I try to ignore his dry look, but it's hard to miss. I huff. "You don't trust me."
He shrugs. "Why should I?"
I open my mouth with a sharp response, but I'm interrupted by a black labrador that bursts through the door with a happy bark. I yelp and jump back.
Dale laughs.
"It's okay, he won't hurt a fly."
I dubiously move to the edge of the room, grateful the jumping mutt can't see me. His slobbery tongue is hanging out of his mouth in ecstasy as Dale rubs behind his ears. All of a sudden the dog's nose twitches and springs into the air, sniffing loudly.
"What is it, boy?"
The dog hunches down and starts sniffing the carpet, weaving its way across the room until it's at my feet.
"Wh-what are you doing?" I yell at the dog.
He sniffs around my ankles then starts working his way up my legs until his nose is in my crotch.
"GET out of there!" I try to slap the dog away. "Dale! A little help!"
"Wow." Dale stands back in awe. "That's amazing."
I try to wiggle away from the dog. "What's amazing? The fact your stupid dog can't stop sniffing my crotch?"
"Jess, come here, boy." Dale slaps his thigh. "Jester. C'mere."
After a few more requests, spurted out between bursts of laughter, Dale's dog finally does as he's told.
I brush off my jeans with a shaky hand and raise my body with as much dignity as I can.
"Sorry about that." Dale simpers.
"I'm sure you are." I cross my arms.
"It's pretty amazing that he can sense you though. I wonder why."
"Look, who knows. Just keep him out of my crotch, okay."
"Yes, ma'am." Dale nods, fighting to keep his lips from popping back into a smile.
Rolling my eyes, I relent with a small smile he can't see. Stepping closer, I hold out my hand and let Jester sniff my fingertips. He starts licking air. This is too bizarre.
"I don't understand how he can sense me."
"Life's mysterious."
"That's your answer?"
Dale shrugs.
"Sometimes we just have to accept the fact we can't explain everything. Life happens, whether we want it to or not and we don't always have a reason why. Our job is to try and make some good come out of it."
I have a feeling he's referring to Jody, so I clear my throat and change the subject.
"Why'd you call him Jester?"
Kneeling down, Dale gives his dog another rub behind the ears.
"At the time I got him, he was the only thing that could make me laugh. Jester seemed the perfect name."
"What happened to you?"
Dale gives his dog a final pat and stands.
"Is it to do with your scar?"
He doesn't look at me.
"Is the knife fight rumor true?"
Dale grins.
"Falling through a glass door? Cycling accident? How about the one where you're surfing on a reef?"
He gives me a pitiful look.
"Okay, fine just tell me then. How'd you get the scar?"
Shaking his head, he turns to his desk and starts rifling through some pages.
"Come on. You know all about my past."
"Do I?" He turns.
I scowl at his open expression then look to the ground.
"Okay, fine, don't tell me." I look up with a sniff. "I don't care anyway."
"Dale! Dinner's ready!"
He shoots me one last disbelieving look before walking out the door.
I stomp down the stairs behind him, annoyed he's being so secretive. It's so completely unfair. Thanks to his interrogation of Adam, he now knows about Jody. The least he can do is tell me why he looks like Frankenstein.
I wince; glad I'm not talking out loud.
Dale takes a seat at the table, opposite his parents. His Dad gives him a friendly smile and asks how he's doing. They share a quick joke I don't understand then hold hands and say grace.
Holding hands around the table? Awkward.
"Amen," they all say in unison then smile at each other.
Dude, we're like five shy of the Brady Bunch here.