Free Who's Your Daddy? by Lynda Sandoval Page B

I love you and Meryl both—like soul sisters. But, come on. Take Ismet … he’s our age, he exists in our world, Meryl had actual contact with the guy, REAL conversation. Ismet, I can see.
    Bobby Slade, though?
    Girlfriend, crushing on Bobby can lead nowhere good. I hate to be the bad-news monger, but you worry me with this one. I only say this because you and Meryl are my BEST friends FOREVER.
    There, I’ve said my piece. I’m off to prepare for my paternal smackdown. I hope you’ll be thinking of me. I think I’m pretty well busted this time, so I’m trying to imagine the most heinous of punishments he can dole out. I have NO idea what Fm in for, but I’ll keep you posted. See you at school.
    —Lila, the damned
    When I finally got the nerve up to creep downstairs to face the music, about an hour or so later, there was a note from my dad on the kitchen table:
    Lila—
    I had to go into the office early, but you’re not off the hook. I will meet you here immediately after school Don’t be late, and I’m not kidding.
    Love, Dad
    I scoffed. What was with the LOVE, DAD ploy??? It sounded suspiciously like the grown-up version of the “this is going to hurt me more than it hurts you” pre-spanking spiel parents spouted, to guilt you into believing (1) the punishment was for your own good and (2) you deserved it. PLEASE.
    But hey, at least I had a school day reprieve.
    WPHS has this interesting way of scheduling classes. Each student takes six classes a semester (some seniors take five), but they each only meet every other day, for ninety-five minutes each, so we have more
immersion
in our subjects. We also have a sixty-five-minute period called “access,” during which we can get extra help, or whatever, from our teachers. It’s kind of cool only having three classes a day, but it’s not all peaches and cream. If you
like
your classes, the day flies by. But, if you have a creep for a teacher or if you have no friends in class, it makes you yearn for the old, traditional fifty-minute period just to minimize the misery.
    With my schedule, I had good days (aka classes with either Meryl or Caressa or both) and bad days (aka classes without anyone fun in them). Meryl was on the full advanced-placement track, whereas I onlydabbled in AP (with science). Caressa, on the other hand, took a lot of creative electives in addition to the regular stuff, but we had a couple together.
    Today, on one of the most stressful days of my high school career, it would only stand to reason that I had NO classes with either Meryl or Caressa. Who IS this Murphy guy, and why does he get to make up his own stupid laws?
    We managed to converge at Meryl’s locker for a few rushed minutes in the morning. The sounds of conversation, laughter, and slamming lockers eddied around us like we were three boulders stuck in the middle of a rushing stream. The halls were a-buzz with post-homecoming gossip, which hopefully meant Dylan hadn’t had time to spread anything around about my so-called life. I checked a few faces but didn’t see any indications that I was the official WPHS verbal whipping post of the day.
    “So? What did your dad do?” Caressa whispered, clutching her books to her chest. Her eyes were round and concerned-looking. Meryl, meanwhile, was busy putting her textbooks into class-and-day order. I kid you not—Meryl is positively ANAL about school.
    “He left me a note.”
    “Huh?” Meryl asked.
    “He had to go to work early, so we didn’t get to talk.” I rolled my eyes, ever so slightly. “I have orders to meet him at home directly after school, though.”
    “Gosh.” Caressa sighed. “I don’t know. The anticipation seems worse than the punishment.”
    “You don’t know what the punishment is yet,” I countered.
    “True. But, how bad can it be?”
    I didn’t want to contemplate it. “About the dumb supper,” I started, hoping they’d both come to their senses in the light of day, “you guys don’t really