Dating and Dragons (Dungeons and Drama, #2) (85)

He grins broadly at the idea, as if I’m joining him for summer camp instead of spending the next eight weeks working here as “probation,” grounded from extracurriculars and friends. I can only grimace and stare at the cracked concrete sidewalk.

“Sure you’re up for this?” Mom asks Dad, and juts her chin at me like I’m a convicted criminal ready to dig my way out of prison with a rusty spoon.

“I’ve been trying to get Riley to come here for years. I was hoping it wouldn’t take a rap sheet to make it happen, but I’ll take what I can get.”

I groan. “Okay, for the last time, I didn’t steal Mom’s car! I just…borrowed it for one evening. It was more like joyriding, not grand theft auto or something.”

“Are you certain about that?” Dad asks with a raised eyebrow.

I am, actually. Hoshiko Googled it once we were on the highway and headed for the show.

“Well, you won’t be doing any joyriding for the next two months, young lady,” Mom says with a shake of her head. “Or having much joy at all.”

“I’m choosing to think of this as a twisted type of blessing,” Dad says, careful to look at me rather than at Mom. They almost never make eye contact. “I get to spend quality time with my daughter, and you can broaden your interests while you’re here.”

I sigh and hunch my shoulders. Half of me wants to kneel on this sidewalk next to the discarded napkins and cigarette butts and beg them to rethink this, but I bite my tongue. The other, rational half knows my punishment could’ve been worse. But the thing is, I don’t want to spend more time with Dad, and I don’t want to work at his game store. For the past five years I’ve spent every other weekend at his apartment—watching TV, eating frozen pizza, and barely talking—and that’s all the bonding time I’m up for. He made his priorities known when he chose this store over Mom and me. He shouldn’t be allowed to have his cake and eat it too. But it’s clear that the time for debating this is over.

“Well…” Mom rocks back on her heels. “Have a good first shift. I’ll be back at nine to pick you up.”

I wave goodbye and try to keep a neutral expression as I follow Dad to the entrance. In the grand scheme of things, eight weeks is nothing. A blip in time. And luckily, preparations for our high school’s annual spring musical won’t start until late fall, so—if I’m on my best behavior and win back their trust these next few months—I should be ready to earn my place as the show’s student director before Starbucks stops selling PSLs.

“Here we are!” Dad says loudly, making me jump.

I peek over his shoulder. The store is dim and quiet, though it’s bigger than I thought it would be. It kind of looks like a hole-in-the-wall from the outside, but the interior is actually spacious…or it would be if it wasn’t absolutely crammed with stuff. There’s a long checkout counter to the left that’s up on a platform, maybe so the employees can see the entire floor. The rest of the space is filled with wooden shelving units. They don’t look professional, so maybe Dad built them himself. I vaguely recognize some of the games, like Warhammer, from Dad’s apartment. There are tons of D&D manuals and figurines, boxes of Pokémon and Magic cards, and displays of brushes and paints in every color for the tabletop game models Dad loves to collect.

I try to conjure a smile on my face, but I’m struggling. For years, Dad’s been asking me to come to this store. He’s obsessed with gaming. Board games, roleplaying games, video games, it doesn’t matter. I don’t mind a round of Monopoly during the holidays, but that’s about as far as my interest goes. Over the years, it’s led to lots of frustration and disappointment for both him and me.

Dad walks me through the store, pointing to all the products and telling me a bit about each. I’m dizzy from it. How am I supposed to learn all this stuff? What if someone comes in asking me for a board game? He doesn’t exactly sell Candy Land here.

“Hey, Joel? Which of these would you recommend for a twelve-year-old?” calls a skinny man in his late twenties from across the store. “Forbidden Island or Ticket to Ride?” He holds up two board games I’ve never seen before and gestures for my dad to join him and a middle-aged woman who stands next to him. A little boy, probably no older than five, is with her. The woman looks as bewildered by the shelves as I do.

“Just a sec, Riley,” Dad says, and walks over. I shove my hands in my pockets and follow behind. “Well, Forbidden Island is great if you like cooperative play, but if you’re looking for something more competitive, I’d recommend the other.” The woman nods, but I recognize that expression. It’s the same one I make when Dad spouts off facts about 40K armies.

“Um, what do you mean by cooperative?” she asks.

Dad and the younger man share the slightest of looks before Dad launches into an explanation. In her concentration, she’s let go of her son’s hand and he wanders away. I take a few steps in his direction. There’s merchandise precariously stacked on the shelves, and a little kid could do a lot of damage very quickly. I’m not interested in reshelving on my first day here.

“Pikachu!” he cries, and grabs a box of cards sitting on the checkout counter.

I step up to him, not sure what I’m supposed to do but knowing that I need to do something. He stares at me. “You’re bright.”