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and me to fly over to Dubai to spend the month of August with him. Won’t that be exciting?”
    Daddy works in intelligence as a National Security officer and has been working over in Dubai for the last eight months. Before that, he worked in Afghanistan for eighteen months. Although over the last two years he’s spent more time in the Middle East than home, he usually comes home for the holidays, and typically stays from anywhere from two weeks to a month, depending.
    Last summer—before I was interested in having a life of my own—Daddy met mom and me in Morocco, where we spent three weeks vacationing in Casablanca. That was a lot of fun: learning about Moroccan culture, sailing the Mediterranean Sea, even hiking the Moroccan mountains was quite interesting. Still, during the day, it was viciously hot and I thought I would die in the sizzling heat.
    But this summer I have plans that do not include travel abroad or being scorched under a blazing sun. I love Daddy, but I’d rather wait until he comes home to spend time with him than give up practically a whole chunk of what could potentially be one of the greatest summers of my life . . . ever!
    I stare at her. Is she kidding me? I can’t spend a whole month away. Stuck up under her and Daddy. What kind of fun is that?
    â€œMom,” I whine. “I can’t go to Dubai for a whole month. What about work? I can’t leave them short-handed.”
    â€œI’m sure they’ll manage,” she says indifferently. “Besides, you’ll be quitting a week or so before the school year starts anyway, right?”
    I blink. Tell her that I hadn’t planned on it. That I had hoped to stay on during the school year and work the weekends. She smiles at me. “Sweetheart, I think that’s great you want to work and gain a sense of independence, but we already agreed that you’d only work for the summer. The only thing your father and I want you to concentrate on is your studies; that’s it.”
    I poke my lip out. “I know. But I can do both. It’s not going to interfere with my grades. I promise. I really like it there.” Umm, no, what I really want to say is, “I really like seeing all the sexy boys who come through the mall with their pants sagging.”
    â€œWe’ll see,” she says brusquely. Code for end of discussion. I take the hint, moving about my bedroom. “You know I ran into Craig and his mother at Short Hills mall this afternoon.” She gauges my reaction. There is none. “He asked about you. And his mother told me to tell you hello.”
    â€œOh. That’s nice,” I say nonchalantly. I’m still kind of put off that she expects me to stop working and wants to whisk me off to some desert country in the blazing heat. Anything to try and ruin my summer plans. So what if she doesn’t know about them? That’s the whole point. For her not to know.
    I walk back into my closet. “Next time you see Mrs. Johnston, tell her I said hi.”
    â€œYou should call her. I know she’d love to hear from you.”
    Craig Johnston is my mother’s idea of the perfect guy for me. And yes, he was one of my parent-approved boyfriends last year. Thing is, he is a really, really nice guy. And he’s cute, too. But I didn’t like him like that. I mean. I tried to like him. But, after our first kiss and there weren’t any fireworks going off in my head after he pulled back, I knew he wasn’t the one for me. Still we talked/dated for almost three months after that, mostly because he was fun to be around and I really did like his company.
    I just didn’t like him for a boyfriend.
    Still don’t.
    â€œHe’s such a fine young man,” my mom continues. “I can’t get over how tall he’s gotten since the last time I saw him.”
    â€œI bet.” I close my closet door, then walk over to my bed and plop down on it.
    â€œI