“Thanks.” Dad wraps his arm around my shoulders and gives me a quick squeeze. “I’ll meet you out front when you’re done, and if you’re feeling up to it, we can get some ice cream. Sound good?”
“Yeah, definitely,” I say, though nothing sounds good right now, not even ice cream.
I watch the fluorescent lights reflect off Dad’s shiny head as he walks away, and once he’s safely in Mr. Wu’s room, I slump down onto the floor with my back to the lockers and my forehead against my knees. I know there must be other solutions—there’s never only one way to solve any problem. But Ms. McKinnon would’ve been such a good companion for my dad, and I have no idea how I’m going to find someone else to set him up with. It’s not like I know tons of single women his age. Can’t something just be easy for once?
I pull out my phone and open the group text I have going with Miriam, Keiko, and Jordan.
Me: Ms. McKinnon has a bf.
Me: Need plan B asap.
Me: HELP.
5
I must look extra gloomy the next day, because the second Miriam sees me in homeroom, she calls an EVGAP (Emergency Video Games and Pedicures) meeting at her house after school. We haven’t had one of those since Keiko’s guinea pig died at the end of July, and the fact that my friends are taking my disappointment so seriously makes me feel a little better even before we get to the video games and nail polish.
Miriam’s house is close to school, so we walk over as soon as the bell rings, load up on cheddar popcorn and peanut butter pretzels and Oreos, and park ourselves in front of the TV in the basement. Since Miriam only has two controllers, we take turns playing Mario Kart and painting our toenails, switching off whenever someone is ready for a new coat of polish. We talk about absolutely nothing for a few games, and by the time I’m done with the silver polka dots on my big toes, I’m starting to feel less horrible. The combination of salt, sugar, nail polish fumes, and the hypnotic way the road passes on the screen lulls me into a comfortable laziness, and I lie back on the carpet and close my eyes. Life would be so much easier if I didn’t even have parents and I could stay here with Mir and Jordan and Keiko forever.
Jordan wins a race, does a victory dance, and tosses her controller aside. “So,” she says, “what are we going to do about Ella’s dad?”
“I don’t knowwww,” I groan. I flop over onto my side, careful not to touch the carpet with my not-quite-dry toenails. “I can’t think of anyone else to set him up with. Where do people even meet each other after they stop going to school?”
“Parties?” says Jordan. “Bars?”
“I can’t exactly go to a bar with my dad.”
“What about the internet?” says Keiko.
I sit up so quickly I get a head rush. I’d totally forgotten online dating was a thing. The internet would provide a much larger pool of potential women, and all of them would actually be available.
“Isn’t online dating kind of gross and weird, though?” I ask. “Do normal people do it?”
Keiko shrugs. “I don’t know. My sister tried it, and she said all the guys were creepy.”
“Do you think the women are creepy too, or is it only the guys? Or maybe the whole thing is less creepy if you’re old. Do old people do online dating?”
Keiko wrinkles her nose. “I saw this commercial where super old people were doing it. Like, my grandma’s age. It was gross.”
“How is that gross?” Miriam asks. “My grandma got remarried in her seventies. It was sweet. My step-grandpa is the best.”
“My aunt Libby uses this site called Head Over Heels,” Jordan says. “She talks about it constantly. But if the other women on there are like her, your dad definitely shouldn’t sign up, because—”
“—she’s the worst,” we all chorus, and Jordan nods, obviously pleased.
“Why don’t we look at the site and see if there’s anyone good?” Miriam retrieves her hand-me-down laptop, and we all crowd around the screen while the site loads.
I was expecting something pink and horrible, but the home screen is dark blue with a swirl of lighter blue and silver in the corner. It’s actually kind of classy. When Miriam clicks on the button that says Get Started, a box pops up in the middle of the screen.
* * *
Welcome to Head Over Heels!
I am a__________ __________ looking for __________.
* * *
Each blank is a drop-down menu where you’re supposed to select your gender and sexual orientation, but the lists are really long and confusing. “What’s demisexual?” asks Keiko, peering over my shoulder. “What does nonbinary mean?”
“What’s two spirit?” asks Jordan.
“Maybe we can look at the women without filling out this part.” Miriam clicks around some more, but it doesn’t seem like there’s any way into the site without making a profile.
I flop back onto the carpet again. “It doesn’t matter anyway,” I say. “My dad would never agree to sign up for this.”
“I mean . . . he wouldn’t have to know about it,” Keiko says around a mouthful of Oreo. “We could make a profile for him and see what happens. If we don’t find anyone good, we can take it down. And if we do . . .” She shrugs.
I consider it. On the one hand, it seems kind of wrong to put my dad on a dating site without asking. But on the other hand, I’d be doing him a huge favor. Having an awesome girlfriend could only improve his life, and this way he wouldn’t have to do any of the stressful work of finding someone. Plus, if I’m the one going through the profiles, there’s no chance he’ll end up with someone I don’t like.
“Okay,” I say. “Let’s do it. Give me the computer.”
My friends whoop. Miriam hands over the laptop, and I select “I am a STRAIGHT MAN seeking WOMEN” from the drop-down menus. It gives us another list of questions, so I enter some basic stuff like my dad’s age and zip code and what languages he speaks. But when it asks for a username, I hesitate.
“ItalianChef?” suggests Miriam. “That’s probably taken. ItalianChefFTW?” She’s had a million spaghetti dinners at my house and really loves my dad’s food.
“That makes him sound like he’s Italian, though,” Keiko says. “And like he works as a chef.”
“SexyBaldStud?” Jordan says, and all of us shriek with horrified laughter.
When we finally calm down, I say, “What about something like SuperDad? He likes superhero stuff, and it lets everyone know he has a kid right away.”
“It’s kind of sappy,” Jordan says.
But Mir and Keiko think it’s cute, so I type it in. It’s taken, but when I add his initials to the end, the website accepts it. I make up a password, and then the site asks me to upload a picture. I use the one from Dad’s company’s website; his smile looks nice, and it was taken a few years ago when he had a little more hair.
There are still tons of profile questions to fill out, but I figure I can do the rest later. I click the submit button, and a heart-shaped firework explodes in the center of the screen. WELCOME, SUPERDAD_DSC! Ready to find love? says the message that pops up, and Jordan makes a gagging sound, but my own heart does a happy little flip.
I click yes . . . and then my eyes bug out as a list of women’s profiles pops up. I expected there to be a bunch, since I entered a large age range, but there are literally thousands of people. Face after face flashes past as I scroll down, and I start to panic. How am I going to read all of these?
“Whoa,” says Keiko. “What if the perfect girlfriend is way at the bottom and you never even get to her?”
“Maybe you should start at the bottom,” Jordan says.
“But then what if she was at the top the whole time?”
“Read the top and bottom and skip the middle?”
“But what if—”
“Click on that one,” Miriam says, pointing to a woman with red hair who’s hugging a golden retriever in her profile picture.
I read her About Me section aloud. “I’m a compassionat
e, passionate woman seeking a partner in crime for romance, mischief, and adventure! Don’t be fooled by my polished exterior; I love pampering myself with spa days and manicures, but I’m an outdoorsy girl at heart, and I’m not afraid to get dirty. I’m not much of a sports fan, but I don’t mind cheering for your favorite team. I’ve got a career I adore and a gorgeous apartment big enough for two, and now it’s time to fill that empty space in my home and my heart.”
“Ew,” Jordan says. “Who talks about their own polished exterior? Isn’t that basically another way to say, ‘Look how pretty I am’?”
“Why would she assume every guy likes sports?” Keiko says. “My dad hates sports.”
“Plus she says her apartment is only big enough for two,” Miriam says. “Pass.”
We read through a bunch more profiles, and I make some notes about things I should include when I finish my dad’s later—at least half the women say things like “I’m not religious, but I’m spiritual” and “I’m just as comfortable doing [some super casual thing] as I am doing [some super fancy thing.]” There’s a cardiologist, a bartender, and a woman who keeps bees who look promising at first, but it takes almost no time to rule them all out. The woman with the bees says her ideal first date is a trip to her psychic, which makes Jordan laugh so hard Sprite comes out of her nose. The bartender has four cats, and my dad is allergic. The cardiologist doesn’t want kids.
I push the laptop away, overwhelmed and discouraged already. “This is stupid. There’s nobody good on here.”
Miriam peers at the screen. “Hang on, what’s this?”
There’s a heart icon in the corner of the page that I hadn’t noticed until now, but it’s pulsing softly. When Mir clicks on it, a whole different list of profiles pops up, along with a banner across the top.
* * *
Congratulations, SuperDad_DSC!
14 people like your profile!
Click here to start messaging your favorites!
* * *
As we watch, the number changes to fifteen. Then sixteen. Then seventeen.
“Oh my god,” Jordan says. “He’s so popular. How do we get that popular?”
She’s right. My middle-aged bald dad, who’s had a fake, incomplete profile up for half an hour, already has seventeen people who want to go on dates with him? I never even get likes that fast when I post stuff on Instagram.
This could be great, though. If this many people are interested in him, maybe I don’t need to read through the millions of profiles after all. I just need to fill in the rest of his information, watch the messages roll in, and pick the potential girlfriends I like best.
WELCOME, SUPERDAD_DSC!
MY PROFILE: [click here to edit]
GENDER: Male
AGE: 43
LOCATION: Arlington, MA
HEIGHT: 5'11"
BODY TYPE: Average
ETHNICITY: White
MARITAL STATUS: Divorced
EDUCATION: College degree
CAREER: Advertising
SMOKES: Never
CHILDREN: Has kid(s)
PETS: Likes dogs, fish. Allergic to cats.
LANGUAGES SPOKEN: English (fluent); Spanish (a little)
LOOKING FOR: Women who like men, 35–50, for long-term dating/committed relationship
ABOUT ME:
Even though I’m divorced, I still believe in the power of love and am totally ready to be part of a couple again! I may come off as a little shy at first, but I promise I’ll be making you laugh in no time once I get to know you! When I’m not at work, I love to cook (Italian food is my specialty), play my guitar, and watch nature documentaries, movies, and baseball (GO SOX!). I’m not religious, but I’m spiritual. My twelve-year-old daughter is my favorite person in the entire world, so . . . not looking for people who don’t like kids.
WHAT I DO FOR A LIVING:
Copywriter at an advertising company. You’ve probably seen my ads on billboards and the sides of buses and stuff. Remember that one for Granolatastic breakfast bars with the rabbits and the turtles? That was mine!
MY FRIENDS DESCRIBE ME AS:
Funny. Smart. Great at being a dad!
FAVORITE BOOKS, TV SHOWS, MOVIES, MUSIC:
Books: Historical biographies. If it’s a million pages long and has a black-and-white picture of a dead dude on the front, I’m probably interested. I also read all the Harry Potter books to my daughter, and I pretended to think they were just okay, but secretly I really liked them.
TV shows: Planet Earth, Cosmos, Deadliest Catch, The West Wing.
Movies: Star Wars. Period. (Except the prequels, obviously!)
Music: Oldies.
IF I HAD A SUPERPOWER, IT WOULD BE:
Teleportation. I could take my daughter to see the world for free and have her back in time for school the next day. And I could get all my pizza from actual Italy, not the place down the street with the gross crust.
MY IDEAL FIRST DATE IS:
A long walk through the Public Garden, maybe a swan boat if we’re feeling cheesy, and cooking you dinner. Or going out somewhere fancy, if you want. I’m just as comfortable in a suit and tie as I am in my Kiss the Cook apron!
GET IN TOUCH IF . . .
. . . you’re looking for someone who will give you tons of love and attention! Bonus points if you like pasta! And kids!
To: SuperDad_DSC
From: PennyForYrThoughts
Hey there, SuperDad,
I was excited to find your profile today; it’s really refreshing to see a dad who’s so focused on his daughter. My kids are the center of my world too, and I couldn’t be with anyone who didn’t understand that. I am also a huge Sox fan and love to cook, and I feel like we might enjoy each other’s company. Take a look at my profile and see what you think, and I hope to hear from you soon!
All the best,
Penny
* * *
To: PennyForYrThoughts
From: SuperDad_DSC
Hi, Penny! It IS nice to find someone who feels the same way about their kids. How many do you have, and how old are they, and are they boys or girls? What’s your favorite thing to cook? I make an awesome spaghetti Bolognese!
David
* * *
To: SuperDad_DSC
From: PennyForYrThoughts
I’ve got two boys and a girl—my sons are twelve and six, and my daughter is eight. I asked them what the best thing I cook is, and the older two put in votes for my lasagna. My youngest said “dinosaur chicken nuggets,” so I guess I’m pretty great at preheating the oven? :) Are you and your daughter doing anything fun this weekend?
P
* * *
To: PennyForYrThoughts
From: SuperDad_DSC
We might go to the zoo on Sunday! Want to come? You could bring your kids, and we could all have a group hang.
D
* * *
To: SuperDad_DSC
From: PennyForYrThoughts
That’s pretty unconventional, but honestly it sounds nice! Every guy I’ve been out with so far has tried his best to avoid meeting my kids. I like that you’re different. Meet you at the Tropical Forest Pavilion at noon.
6
I spend most of Saturday practicing with Elvis and Krishnan—we’re working on making our turns tighter—and perfecting the pouch I made for carrying dog treats. It closes with a magnet so that it flips open easily and latches by itself, and I think Ms. McKinnon would be proud of my creative engineering. But it’s hard to keep my mind on my work when I’m counting down the hours until I finally get to set eyes on the woman who will hopefully become Dad’s new girlfriend.
Sunday finally comes, and Keiko’s mom drives my friends and me to the Franklin Park Zoo in the morning. The second she leaves to do some shopping, the four of us head straight for the concession stand—what’s the point of being unsupervised if you can’t eat cotton candy before lunch? I’m so excited about Penny that I barely have an appetite, but somehow I still
manage to down my fair share of blue fluff.
“What do you think she’ll be like?” I ask my friends for the millionth time as we watch the zebras. “Do you think her kids will be cool? You guys, I could finally have siblings!”
“Ugh,” Keiko says. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”
“Yeah, but your sisters are so much older. I could be the best cool older sister to a six-year-old and an eight-year-old. They would totally love me. And her son is my age! Maybe if I had a brother, I’d actually understand boys.”
“Is understanding boys even possible?” Jordan asks.
“I don’t know. Maybe! We could find out!”
My phone alarm goes off, blasting the special ring tone I set for today—“Super-Epic Romance” by SneakyMouse—and I leap off the bench we’re sitting on. It’s 11:55, which means Penny should be herding her kids toward the Tropical Forest Pavilion right now to “meet up with my dad.” It’s go time.
“Everyone remember the plan?” I ask, and my friends roll their eyes. We’ve been over the plan so many times they could probably recite it backward in Spanish in their sleep. We wrap up the remains of our cotton candy, and then we head past the giraffes and the Outback Pavilion and turn down the path to the Tropical Forest.
When it comes into view, I suddenly start to feel jumpy. Five minutes ago I was totally confident about my plan, but now it feels like maybe we’re doing something wrong, luring Penny here for a date that’s not really going to happen. After I scope her out, I’m going to write her a really nice e-mail from “my dad,” making a good excuse for “standing her up” and asking her to reschedule. But what if she gets upset or angry anyway? She seems like a cool person, and it doesn’t feel quite right to mess with her like this.
“Ella?” Miriam says, and I realize I’ve walked all the way to the door without realizing it. The expression on my friend’s face makes me think this might not be the first time she’s said my name. “Are you ready?”
Ella Unleashed Page 4