"Coming," I said, although I dipped one cracker in the hummus and stuffed it into my mouth before heading out to the foyer. My dad was standing there, his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his feet. "What's going on?"

"I have a surprise for you!"

This piqued my interest. "Really? What sort of surprise?"

"Close your eyes and I'll show you," Dad said.

"Okay?" I said. I closed my eyes and held out my hand.

I was expecting my dad to put whatever the surprise was in my hands. But instead, he took my hand in his and led me forward.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"You'll see. Keep your eyes closed."

I heard the front door open again, and then felt the blast of hot air hit me as my dad led me outside.

"Keep coming, keep coming. Watch out, there's a step right there. Good. Now just a few more steps, and . . . open your eyes!"

I opened my eyes, and blinked in the dazzling summer sunshine. There, parked in the driveway in front of the beach house, was the ugliest car I had ever seen. It wasn't just yellow. It was the most obnoxious shade of neon, glow-in-the-dark yellow I had ever seen. Even worse, someone had, rather inexpertly, painted black racing stripes down the sides and hood. I wondered who it belonged to.

"Ta-da," Dad announced.

"Ta-da?" I asked.

"I bought you a car!"

"Wait. This car?" I asked, pointing at the yellow monstrosity.

"Do you love it?" he asked. "I thought the color was pretty. And you'll never lose it in the parking lot."

This was undoubtedly true. "Wow, thanks," I said, struggling to sound enthusiastic while simultaneously picturing Felicity Morgan's glee when she saw me drive into the Geek High parking lot in this car.

"I know it's not as nice as Hannah's car, but . . . well . . . ," Dad said, his voice trailing off.

Peyton had bought Hannah a silver Lexus SUV for her birthday. And even though, okay, yes, of course I'd prefer her car to this one-who wouldn't?-I wasn't about to let my dad know that. I knew there was no way he could afford such an over-the-top, extravagant gift. And I didn't want to hurt his feelings, especially when he was so excited by his gift. And any car-even an ugly yellow one-was better than having to bike it everywhere.

"I love it," I said firmly.

My dad's face cleared. "You do? Good," he said, clearly relieved. "I thought that since you were going to be staying here, instead of going to London, you needed your own car to get around."

"Thanks, Dad," I said, hugging him. My dad smelled like he had since I was a little girl-a combination of peppermint and lemon-scented aftershave. My heart gave a sentimental squeeze.

"Do you want to take it for a spin?" he asked, dangling the car keys from one hand. I took them from him. The key chain had a ratty-looking stuffed dolphin attached to it, the metal key ring impaling the dolphin through its gray head.

"Sure," I said, opening up the door.

The car was upholstered in dirty gray fabric, and there were long grease stains on the floor mat. A pine tree room deodorizer-pina colada scent-hung from the rearview mirror.

"The radio doesn't work," Dad said through the window. "But I don't think that's a bad thing. I don't like the idea of you driving around with music blasting so loud, you can't hear anything."

"Dad!" I said. "You have no faith in me."

"Of course I do. If I didn't have faith in you, I wouldn't have given you a car. Start her up."

I turned the keys in the ignition. There was a thumping sound, and then the engine roared to life.

"The engine sounds great, doesn't it?" Dad said happily.

I thought it sounded a bit like an old lawn mower. "Sure," I said, shouting to be heard over the roar. "It's kind of loud, though, isn't it?"

"That just means it has a powerful engine," Dad said. I was fairly sure he had no idea what he was talking about, but what was the worst that could happen? Other than the car exploding, or breaking down by the side of the highway late at night.

I waved good-bye and with a jerky start, drove the hideous yellow car-my hideous yellow car, I reminded myself, and an ugly car was better than no car at all-out of the driveway. Underneath the perfume of faux pina colada, there was another, stronger smell. What was that? I wondered. It was like an unpleasant combination of body odor, fast-food grease, and cigarette smoke. I rolled down the windows. Maybe it just needed airing out.

I drove to Grounded, parked, and headed inside. Charlie had said she'd be there, working on some sketches, and to meet her if I could. I saw her immediately, sitting at a corner table with Finn. I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I was interrupting them. But Charlie smiled when she saw me and waved me over.

"Hi," I said, sitting down next to Charlie.

"I'm glad you're here," Finn said.

"Why, thank you, Finn," I said. "That's an unusually nice thing for you to say."

"I need girl help, and Charlie's pretty much useless," Finn said.

"Hey!" Charlie said, looking affronted. "I can't believe you'd say that, especially after I just spent the last thirty minutes listening to you moan about your love life."

"It's not your fault," Finn told Charlie. "I'm sure you did your best, but let's face it-you're a virtual guy."

"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" Charlie asked dangerously through clenched teeth.

"Well, I mean, you're not a guy-obviously-but you have the emotions of one," Finn said. "You know. You eat up men and spit them out."

"I do not!" Charlie said.

"Yes, you do. With the notable exception of your ill-fated-and I might add, ill-advised-relationship with that loser Mitch," Finn said.

"What guys have I eaten and spit out?" Charlie demanded.

"That Luke guy for one. You were totally leading him on at the bowling alley that night," Finn said.

Charlie smiled, suddenly pleased with the direction the conversation was going. "No, I wasn't," she said. "We're going on our third date tomorrow night."

Finn's mouth dropped open. "Please tell me you're not serious."

"Of course I'm serious. Why wouldn't I be?" Charlie asked.

"Because that guy is an idiot," Finn said. "He was so dumb, I think at one point he was actually drooling. He probably forgot to swallow."

"We've been through this before. Just because someone doesn't go to Geek High, it doesn't mean that he's stupid," Charlie said.

"Yes, it does," Finn said.

"Finn?" I said. "You're dating someone who goes to Orange Cove High."

"That's right, you are," Charlie said, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Yeah, but I'm not going out with Phoebe for her brains," Finn said.

"Nice," Charlie said.

"Finn!" I said. "You're such a pig!"

"No, I'm not. Someone can have a good heart and soul without being an intellect," Finn said loftily.

"And that's why you're going out with Phoebe? For her heart and soul?" I asked, amused.

"No, he's totally lying," Charlie said, before Finn could speak. "He just spent the last half hour complaining that Phoebe doesn't do anything but giggle when they're together."

"And that's a problem for you?" I asked Finn.

"I just wish she had some base of knowledge. I mean, she doesn't have to share my interests, necessarily, like computers or gaming. But how about a working knowledge of, oh, I don't know, Battlestar Galactica?"

"Battlestar Galactica?" Charlie repeated scornfully.

"It doesn't have to be Battlestar Galactica," Finn said fairly. "It could be The Lord of the Rings. Or Manga."

"So you don't really want to date a girl," Charlie said. "You want to date a girl who's basically you-a geeky guy-only with b.o.o.bs."

"Exactly," Finn said, pointing at her.

"Are you going to break up with Phoebe?" I asked.

"No way! She's way too hot to break up with," Finn said.

I saw Charlie flinch, but Finn didn't notice.

"I just need to figure out a way to work my Jedi mind tricks on her, so I can mold her into the perfect girlfriend."

"I need a coffee," I said.

When I got back from fetching my frozen latte, Charlie and Finn were still arguing.

Big surprise, I thought.

"Well, I personally couldn't date someone who hadn't read the Harry Potter series," Charlie said. Her arms were folded over her chest, and she had a stubborn expression on her face. "But that's just me."

"Has Lukey-boy read them?" Finn asked slyly.

"First of all, don't call him that. His name is Luke," Charlie said haughtily. "And second, although we haven't talked about it, I'm sure he has."

"Call and ask him," Finn said.

"What?" Charlie looked taken aback.

"Call and ask him." Finn pushed his cell phone across the table to her. "Here, you can use my phone."

"No, thanks," Charlie said.

"Why not? Scared what you might find out?" Finn asked.

"No. But I also don't want to insult him by quizzing him about his reading habits," Charlie said.

"Bok bok," Finn clucked.

"Oh my G.o.d. You've officially regressed to the age of seven," Charlie said, shaking her head in disbelief.

I decided it was time to break in on the lovefest, before it came to blows.

"I have some news," I said. "My dad bought me a car!"

It worked. The magnitude of my announcement caused Finn and Charlie to stop sniping at each other and turn to stare at me.

"Are you serious?" Charlie said. "That's so cool!"

"A new car?" Finn asked.

"Not exactly," I admitted. "It's a new-to-me car."

"Can we see it?" Charlie asked.

"Sure. I parked out front. But I think I should warn you-it's yellow," I said.

"So?" Finn asked.

"It's very yellow," I said. "Very, very yellow."

Two minutes later, the three of us were standing outside Grounded, staring at my new car.

"The color's not that bad," Charlie said, in a lame attempt to be supportive.

Finn didn't even bother trying.

"This car makes my life," he said, standing with his hands stretched out in front of him, fingers spread. "If I died this moment, I would go out a happy man."

"It's bad, right?" I said worriedly. "I know it's a car, and any car is better than no car. But even so, it's still bad, right?"

"Are you kidding? It's awesome," Finn said gleefully. He ran a finger down the hood. "The racing stripes are just the best. I think I have to own this car. How much do you want for it, M?"