Table of Contents
Synopsis
Advance Praise for Father Knows Best
Acknowledgements
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
About the Author
Books Available From Bold Strokes Books
Synopsis
After a tumultuous junior year, best friends Lila Moreno, Meryl Morganstern, and Caressa Thibodoux plan to make the most of the summer before senior year. But those plans fall by the wayside when Lila’s archenemy, Jennifer Hamilton, finds herself friendless and flailing in a mess of her own making. Meryl steps up to help…and drags Lila and Caressa along with her.
What was supposed to be a carefree few months morphs into a summer of girl power, growing up, and giving in to situations beyond their control. In the end, all four girls are tighter than ever and one step closer to tackling their all-important senior year.
Advance Praise for Father Knows Best
“Loosen your belt for a laugh-out-loud, fast-paced romp into enemy territory where three amigas swerve into unexpected growth and feelings of love.”—Mayra Lazara Dole, author of Down To The Bone, winner of the Rainbow Project award, Americas Award commendation, Booklist Top 10 Novels, starred ALA Booklist, and nominated for Best Books for YA 2009
“Sandoval shows us the real glue of female friendships. She has the girls’ voices—sweet, funny and a little bit snarky—down pat. You’ll wish you were their best friend.”—Ellen Wittlinger, Lambda Award–winning author of Hard Love
“Beware! Once you start reading Father Knows Best you will not be able to put it down! Lila Moreno will capture your heart. Not only is she a wonderful tangle of teenage innocence and (her words) ‘classic Lila snarkitude,’ but also her predicaments are truly heartfelt. Her razor-sharp observations are so hilariously portrayed that you will feel you’ve made a new BFF (best friend forever). That goes for her friends Caressa and Meryl as well; for have no doubt, this is a story about the power of friends, about moving past our grudges and fears to step up and help someone in need. In short, it’s about girl power. And girl power, when it’s turned on high, as it is in Lynda Sandoval’s page-turning novel, has the capacity to move mountains. Father Knows Best will make you laugh out loud, get choked up, and finally, reflect on your own life to see if you’ve got the guts to live from your heart, the way these Three Amigas do.”—Clifford Henderson, author of The Middle Of Somewhere and Spanking New
“Father Knows Best is a laugh-out-loud novel that is populated with fun characters that don’t just leap off of every page, they vault right into your heart. Lila Moreno is an unforgettable, endearing protagonist who takes us through a tender journey of family, friendship and forgiveness. The clever and true-tothe- ear dialogue is hilarious; this is one of the funniest firstperson narratives that I have read. With this novel, Sandoval has established herself as a strong literary voice for teenage girls. Young adult fiction doesn’t get much better than this!”—David- Matthew Barnes, filmmaker and author of Mesmerized
“Father Knows Best is a warm-hearted, humorous romp, filled to the brim with girl power and sincerity. The characters are likeable, believable, and often insightful and witty. It’s a story that blasts preconceived notions, and shows how life and fate have a mind of their own, no matter what plans you have. The message is positive and the story leaves the reader wanting more.”—Melissa Jauregui, Poised at the Edge Book Reviews
“A heartfelt story about friendship—not just between three teenage girls, but between a girl and her father. There may not be any traveling pants, but this book should be a good fit for girls looking to see what friendship is really all about.”—Brent Hartinger, author of Geography Club and The Last Chance Texaco
“Reading Father Knows Best is like sitting down for a talk with your crazy friend who makes the most mundane daily happenings sound like a party, and always cracks you up. It’s a warm and hilarious novel about friendship, and by the end you’ll agree that Jennifer is very lucky to have Lila, Meryl and Caressa in her circle.”—Jennifer Echols, author of The Ex Games and Going Too Far, nominee, ALA Best Book for Young Adults
“Any book with the name Lynda Sandoval on the cover is guaranteed to make its way to your keeper shelf. Lila, Caressa, and Meryl are three of my favorite characters—snarky, warm, and real.”—Niki Burnham, author of the Royally Jacked series and Sticky Fingers
“Sandoval once again captures the voices of Lila, Meryl and Caressa with warmth and humor as the three friends navigate the summer before their senior year, showing how the bonds of true friendship can grow ever stronger. A totally fun read and worthy successor to Who’s Your Daddy?”—Denise Vega, author of Fact Of Life #31, winner of the Colorado Book Award for Young Adult Literature and the Colorado Top Hand Award for Middle Grade/ Young Adult Literature
“Father Knows Best is an attitude-packed, breezy read about friendship, love and family that will leave you with a big, goofy smile on your face. Love, friendship, and attitude! What more could you want from a YA novel?”—Simone Elkeles, awardwinning author of Perfect Chemistry, How To Ruin A Summer Vacation, and Leaving Paradise. 2008 Author of the Year by the Illinois Association of Teachers of English.
“I laughed, cried, and cringed along with Lila as she walked the tightrope of wanting to grow up but not lose her spot as Daddy’s little girl. Luckily, she has Caressa and Meryl to help her navigate her way to adulthood. Any teenage girl would be lucky to have such a perfect trio of amigas!”—Stephanie Hale, author of The Alpha Bet
Father Knows Best
Brought to you by
eBooks from Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
http://www.boldstrokesbookshop.com
eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.
Father Knows Best
by
Lynda Sandoval
A Division of Bold Strokes Books
2010
Father Knows Best
© 2010 By Lynda Sandoval. All Rights Reserved.
ISBN 10: 1-60282-147-XE
ISBN 13: 978-1-60282-147-7E
This Electronic Book is published by
Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 249
Valley Falls, New York 12185
First Edition: April 2010
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Credits
Editor: Stacia Seaman
Production Design: Stacia Seaman
Cover Design By Sheri ([email protected])
Acknowledgements
Thank you, first of all, Radclyffe, for giving this book a chance to reach readers. I’m so grateful. Also, thanks to Cindy Cresap for everything, to Sheri for the wonderful cover art, to Stacia Seaman, Connie Ward, and everyone else at Bold Strokes Books for being so welcoming. Much love to my agent, Jenny Bent, for basically being a rock star. Thanks, most of all to my mom and sisters for being my biggest fans, and to LaRita for bei
ng exactly who you are. I love you.
Dedication
For Alex and Sarah, with all my love
Chapter One
So, the short version: junior prom rocked, I’d scored the perfect boyfriend, and the school year ended—YAY!—which meant my friends and I were officially incoming White Peaks High School seniors, a.k.a. The Shit.
Additionally, Dad had returned my driver’s license with the surprisingly good picture—not that I had a car (minor detail)—and nearly three months of freedom stretched out before me like a big, beautifully wrapped gift, because it was sum-sum-summertime, at last!
But, despite everything in my life that was going more perfectly than I could ever have imagined, here I stood late on a Friday night inside my own house, fuming and humiliated, flicking the porch light on and off.
And for whom, you ask?
My father. Yep, dear ol’ Dad.
The man apparently intent upon destroying my life, no matter what. The very man, I might add, who had been sucking face or whatever with his girlfriend on our porch swing for the last five minutes. Gross!
That fact alone was enough to kill me, let me tell you. One should not have to witness one’s father sucking face, not that I could actually see, nor did I want to, but you know what I mean. I knew. That was—or should’ve been—enough.
Oh, but there was more. So much more.
Don’t get me wrong—I think my dad deserves to find true love as much as the next guy. And, fine, I suppose he can even, you know…suck face and stuff if he feels he has to. But not on our porch, and not with This Particular Woman.
Okay, truth time. That was the big problemo right there.
His choice in women.
Track with me on this:
There are approximately six and a half billion people in the world, right? Let’s say, then, about three and a quarter billion of those are women. Cut out those who are jail bait, married, or blue-haired, and we’ll postulate that one billion are left, give or take (yes, I am randomly making this number up, but who gives a rip?). Subtract all those who live on other continents or in other parts of the country, or who are just plain skanky, and surely there are at least fifty thousand eligible women left from whom my dad can choose, right?
Right?
Even if there are only, say, ten thousand left, I think that’s a pretty darn good crop of options. Heck, five hundred is a decent dating pool considering most people—hot or homely—don’t have the luxury of more than a handful of choices, even when they sign up for every single one of those online dating services at the same time.
So who does Daddy Dearest choose out of those ten thousand hypothetical women potentially clamoring for his attention?
Yeah. My boyfriend’s mother.
No, you didn’t just hallucinate. No one had a seizure.
You heard me correctly, much to my abject horror.
My father is actually dating Dylan Sebring’s freakin’ mother, and they are playing tonsil hockey on my porch right at this very nauseating moment.
Let’s all pause to harness the gag reflex, shall we?
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Hork!
I mean, can you even wrap your brain around the myriad levels of wrongness about the whole sordid, creepy-ass, unfair affair? Not just the making out on our porch part, although, geez, get a room!
Wait! I take that back. Glug.
Whew, the very concept of a room, with all its implications, made my heart pound in a get-the-cardiac-paddles-and-“Clear!” kind of way. But, I’m talking, the wrongness of the entire thing.
Look, I’m a reasonable person. I can understand my dad liking Ms. “Call me Chloe” Sebring. I like her, too, for crap’s sake. But the very fact that I am dating her son should render her immediately and permanently off-limits to anyone related to me, most especially my father.
There should be a law.
With consequences. Painful ones.
I am not overreacting!
Seriously, what if they’re totally into each other?
What if, God forbid, they eventually get married?
I shudder at the notion, wrapping my arms around myself as I stand by the front door making sure not to look out of the three glass panels up top.
Can you grasp the gravity of the marriage possibility? Should it occur, Dylan would be my boyfriend and my stepbrother, and if that doesn’t set off some mental banjo twanging in your head, then, dude, I just can’t help you.
Yeah, yeah—I know. He wouldn’t be my real brother, and amen for that, because my four current ones are more than enough overbearing brotherage, thankyouveryfreakingmuch, but it still lends a seedy ick factor to what has become a really perfect and well-deserved boyfriend / girlfriend sitch. It would ruin everything.
Too bad my dad just doesn’t get it.
He thinks I’m flipping out for no reason.
As freakin’ if.
I could hear the murmur of voices from the front porch—a relief, because that meant the groping had ceased, at least temporarily. I eased out a breath, and my shoulders, which had been practically clamped around my ears, dropped.
“Are they still going at it?” Caressa asked, from just behind me.
I jolted and spun toward her. What was she now, Stealth Girl? Leave it to Caressa to whip out the superhero skills at a moment’s notice. I hadn’t even heard her approach.
She reached her hand into the bag of microwave popcorn she’d just popped and craned her model-long neck for a glimpse.
“Don’t look!” I said, yanking her away from the windows, traumatized by the very thought of us pulling the voyeur act on my dad and—Ugh!—Chloe Sebring. I lowered my voice. “And please don’t use the phrase ‘going at it’ unless you want me to hurl. The images in my head—God!”
“Sorry,” she said, squinching up her nose.
“Hey, where’s the popcorn?” asked Meryl as she bopped down to the stair landing, all decked out in her monkey pajamas. She stopped, hand on the banister. Her forehead furrowed as she looked at the two of us huddled by the front door. “What on earth are you guys doing?”
“Spying on Lila’s dad ramming his tongue down Dylan’s mom’s throat,” Caressa told her, and in an inappropriately blasé tone, I might add. I forgot to mention, my friends think I’m sorta freaking out for nada, too.
Really, though. Ramming, Tongue, and Throat in one sentence with my dad’s name and Dylan’s mom’s name included? Evil.
But, getting to the point, that’s the salt-in-the-road-rash aspect to this whole porch debacle. My best friends, Caressa and Meryl, were spending the night before Caressa headed off to New York City for the summer of a lifetime; hence, they were officially witnessing the whole sordid affair, up close and personal, for the first time since I’d told them whazzup.
And then with the tongue-ramming comment.
Kill. Me. Now.
I suppose I should tell you how the whole nightmare went down. Mind you, I can’t explain why my dad ultimately decided to go for it with my boyfriend’s mother, of all people, because (1) I’m not inside his head, thank God, and (2) I don’t smoke crack; but here’s what I know:
After prom, when Dylan and I were An Official White Peaks High School Couple and everyone knew it (which fully rocked), Chloe Sebring arranged a meeting with my dad, the police chief, because she was worried that our coupledom would somehow interfere with Dylan’s work as a Police Explorer, which had snatched him back from the brink of hoodlumville and turned his life around. (So dramatic, but that’s how they see it. Even Dylan sees it that way). How us dating would affect his “job,” I have no clue. We’d worked side by side as Explorers for a whole school year and nothing horrible had occurred. In fact, we worked well together. But parents can be twisted like that, though.
Make no mistake, she likes me and everything—it’s not that. In fact, she likes me a heck of a lot more than Dylan’s last brittl
e, bitchy girlfriend, Jennifer Hellspawn Hamilton, who is all about the hair bleach and the acrylic eye-poker nails and the airbrush tan. Oh, and Jennifer hates my ass with a white-hot, fiery passion—have I mentioned that small detail? Whatev.
It’s just that Ms. Sebring—I mean, Chloe—didn’t want such a positive part of Dylan’s life, the Explorer thing, to be compromised or whatever by the fact that he’d begun dating the police chief’s daughter. Words were brought up, like nepotism, favoritism, other isms.
You know how adults think. Illogically.
Still, I didn’t even blame her for seeking reassurance. At that point, it was NBD—no big deal. I knew my dad would tell her that Dylan and I are very professional on the job, blah blah blah.
The meeting, initially, was very normal and parentish, with none of the usual underlying agendas. Chloe didn’t knit my dad police-themed pot holders or anything, like so many of the other badge bunny single women in town who barfingly warm for his form (and there tons of them because he’s a hottie—mentally harmful, but true). As far as I know, she didn’t even sport the ultimate push-up bra with the low-cut, too-tight top, or whatever other slutty tactics these man-hunting women usually employ.
It was just my dad meeting Dylan’s mom to make sure all was cool with us dating and the Explorers, blahbiddy.
That’s it.
But they got to talking and who the hell knows—spring was in the air, I guess. In any case, my dad suffered some sort of catastrophic, socially-crippling-to-his-only-daughter, brain malady and asked Chloe to join him for dinner in the middle of town in front of everyone, and she said yes.
Two errors in judgment, right there, people.
And they say teenagers can’t make good decisions.
Snarf!
A couple of steaks and a bottle of wine later, and the rest is history. Actually, if you want to be technical about it, that whole story qualifies as history, but you know what I mean. Steaks and Shiraz are one thing, but now my dad’s Officially Dating my boyfriend’s mom, and my life basically sucks because of it. Trust me, you just don’t want your boyfriend to give you a wake-up call Sunday morning and ask, “Hey, is my mom over there?” Not that this has happened yet, but it’s only a matter of time.
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