When the never-ending PSA was over, everyone cheered. Hooker and I kept our hands planted in our laps. I was sure she did it more to support me than anything, but I appreciated the gesture.
Seniors got to stay behind and ask questions while the cops made their way down to the audience. Dad didn’t look at me once. Not even when there was a question from the guy directly to my right, Everett Ponce, a total brownnoser. It was like I was invisible—which was fine with me so long as I got out of there without having to trade words with the jerk.
Classes started filing out. I thought I was in the clear when a familiar voice said, “Not even going to say hi to me, huh?”
I took a deep breath then pivoted around.
“Hey, Dad.”
My voice sounded stiff, but it couldn’t be helped. There he was, Deputy Nick Spitz, crime fighter, revered cop, award-winning officer and crap-tastic father of the decade. The last was my own personal award. He was a hero to everyone but me and for good reason.
“Hi there, Sally girl,” he said like we chatted every day. “How’s your mother?”
“Mom’s fantastic.” I hated when he called me that.
“Still working at that bridal place?”
“Yeah,” I said, happy for the first time since I’d seen him. “She actually got a big promotion two months ago.”
His smile widened. “Well, that’s great. Not much farther she can go in that place, but that’s just terrific. I’m glad to hear she’s moving up in the world.”
That’s right, I thought. Moving up and doing fine without any help from you.
It’d taken a lot of courage for Mom to leave the great Nick Spitz when I was just five, but she’d gotten out of a bad relationship, raised me on her own, and was thriving in a job she loved. Despite Dad’s insults and his constant put-downs, she was a fighter. It had to eat him up how successful Mom was in her job. I hoped it did.
“I see you’re still wearing those odd clothes of yours.” He gestured to my green “Yoda Knows Best” tee and shook his head. “Don’t see how you’re ever going attract a man wearing all that nonsense.”
And suddenly Becks was there.
“Sal,” he said, laying a gentle hand on my elbow, “you alright?”
“Fine,” I said. This time his touch seemed to give me strength.
Hooker muttered, “Want me to give him five across the face?”
I shook my head, wondering when that expression had gotten so popular.
“Maybe I was mistaken,” Dad said, giving Becks a long look. “You dating my daughter? Seems a little strange if you ask me.”
“Yeah, I am,” Becks said in a hard tone. “And nobody did ask you.”
Dad held up his hands. “Easy there son, I was just stating facts.”
Becks didn’t fall for it. “I’m not your son.”
“Okay, okay,” Dad said, his smile a tight line. “No need to get angry. I’m just saying Sally girl isn’t your typical Southern beauty. Has too much of her momma in her for that.”
Alright, now even I wanted to give him five across the face, but before I could lift a hand, before I could form a fist, the Sheriff stepped in.
“How’s it going over here, Nick?” His old eyes passed from one face to the other and stopped on me. “Well, I’ll be,” he said, looking from me to my Dad and back again. “I never knew you had a child.”
“Yes, sir,” Dad smiled as if he hadn’t just told my F.B.F. I was ugly. “This is my Sally girl, the only one I’ve got.”
Lucky me, I thought.
The Sherriff, hands on hips, puffed out his big barrel chest. “You must be pretty proud. I just cannot believe this. Nick here’s prone to practical jokes. So tell me young woman, are you really Deputy Spitz’s daughter?”
“No.”
The word was out of my mouth before I could think. I didn’t know what came over me...but it felt really good.
“Sally,” Dad hissed, but I ignored him.
“No,” I repeated, “I’m Martha Nicholls’s daughter.”
Brows contracted, the Sheriff asked, “But isn’t Nick your father?”
I had a true Star Wars moment. The urge to scream “Nooooo!” at the top of my lungs, just as Luke had when Darth Vader revealed his parentage, was tempting. The possibility of seeing Dad’s face was nearly too much to resist. Instead I decided to take the high road.
“I guess.” I shrugged then looked over at my friends. They were both smiling. “We should get back to class.”
“You’re just like your mother,” Dad said to my back.
Stopping, I turned. “You better believe it.”