Stranger in Dadland by Amy Goldman Koss Read Free Book Online

about my dog to everyone but me. He knew Bub’s name, but I bet he didn’t know Ditz’s. Liz was way off base thinking Dad couldn’t help being a lousy father. In fact, he was a perfect lesson in exactly how
not
to be a father. Never mind
father
, how about just human being? Wouldn’t a normal person say
something
nice to a kid whose dog had just died? Not Dad—he
laughs
about dead dogs. Ha, ha, ha.
    And what would
you
be reincarnated as, I wanted to ask him. A puny, overpriced, yellow convertible?
    After dinner, Cora did the dishes while my father paced back and forth, talking on the phone. I grabbed a book off the bookshelf and took it back to the guest room. Day two.

chapter seven
    In the morning, Dad banged on my door and yelled, “Hustle, Big Guy! We’ve got a meeting at nine.”
    “We?” I mumbled, stumbling out of bed.
    Dad must’ve already run and showered. He was fixing my eggs, wearing nothing but boxer shorts. His back was hairy. I wouldn’t mind some body hair—a huge mustache would be fine—but I could do without the hairy back. It probably won’t happen anyway. I take after my mom’s side. Straight brown hair, not curly black like Dad’s.
    He plunked my plate down in front of me and whistled off to his room to dress. The eggs looked gloppy, and the idea of slogging through a plate of them every morning made me wish Ditz were there. I’d just slip my plate under the table and the eggs would be gone in one slurp.
    Then I remembered about Ditz. My fork froze halfway tomy mouth. It still wasn’t real. It was like a sad movie or book I had read long ago.
    I ate. Then I dressed.
    Dad came out and looked at me. Something flashed across his face—annoyance? Disappointment? Maybe I imagined it. But then he said, “Got anything a little nicer than that?” So I went back and changed from my T-shirt to a button-down. That was the best I could do.
    Beau was just coming out of his apartment as we passed it.
    “Where to?” he asked, falling in step with us. “The diner?”
    “Work,” Dad said. “I have a presentation to give.”
    “Harsh!” Beau said. “Work on such a beautiful morning!” And he waved as we ducked down the stairwell.
    Beautiful? The sky was yellowish and the sun was already going full blast, practically sucking the spit out of my mouth. I almost wished I were staying at the apartment to swim. But maybe going to work with Dad would be okay this time. After all, I’d come to California to see
him.
    When we drove out of the parking structure, we zipped along in our little yellow convertible, then pulled into another underground parking garage. We had to wind deeper and deeper to find a spot to bury the car.
    “What happens to these things in earthquakes?” I asked, eyeing the massive concrete pillars and imagining us squashed like a yellow bug.
    “We don’t have time to find out,” Dad said with a laugh. “I’m already four minutes late. And Bill Frederick is not a man who appreciates lateness.”
    Dad hopped out of the car and rushed toward the exit sign. I hurried after him, up some stairs, more stairs, more, then through a door, and into a lobby—without ever having stepped outside.
    Dad pointed to a chair. “I’ll be down in about…” He looked at his watch. “I don’t know. As soon as I can.” Then he hurried to the elevator, and let it swallow him whole.
    I sat on the chair. Men and women tromped in wearing suits, carrying briefcases, not noticing me. I looked around, counted things: doors, squares of marble in the floor, plants. I didn’t even have a book or my watch or
anything
to do.
    I wondered if Beau’s brother was beating him up back at the apartment, which then reminded me of Alex. I hadn’t thought of Alex in ages. He was this fifth-grade jerk who bullied me on the bus all through third grade. I don’t know what happened to him; he only went to my school that one horrible year, then disappeared—to destroy some other kid’s life in some other