Fangirl

your dad’s work.”
    Kelly was her dad’s creative director. The panda bear guy. “Fucking Kelly,” her dad called him. As in, “Fucking Kelly is making us start over on the Kilpatrick’s campaign.” Or, “And then fucking Kelly got it in his head that the robot should be dancing.”
    Kelly was the reason her dad still had a job. Every time Kelly switched agencies, he talked Cath’s dad into following him.
    Kelly chalked up all her dad’s extreme behavior to “the creative mind.” “Your dad’s a genius,” he’d told the twins at one Christmas party. “His brain was specifically designed to make ads. He’s a precision instrument.”
    Kelly had a soft, wheedling voice—like he was trying to talk you into something or sell you something, every time he opened his mouth. “Have you girls tried the cocktail shrimp here? The cocktail shrimp are amazing. ”
    Hearing Kelly’s soft-sell voice now sent an unpleasant chill scrabbling up Cath’s spine.
    “Hi,” she said.
    “Hey, Cather. I’m sorry to call you at school. It’s finals week, right? My Connor tells me it’s finals week.”
    “Yeah,” she said.
    “Look, I got your number from your dad’s phone, and I just wanted to tell you that he’s perfectly okay, he’s going to be fine. But he’s spending tonight—maybe the next day or two—here at the hospital. Here at St. Richard’s Hospital—”
    “What happened?”
    “Nothing happened, he’s okay. I mean it. He just needs to get his balance back.”
    “Why? I mean, what happened? Why did you take him there—did you take him there?”
    “Yeah, I did. I brought him here myself. It wasn’t that anything happened. It’s just that he was really caught up in work, which you know, we all are. It’s a fine line sometimes for all of us … but your dad didn’t want to leave his office. It had been a few days since he’d left his office.…”
    How many days? she wondered. And was he eating? Was he going to the bathroom? Had he shoved his desk up against the door? Had he thrown a stack of ideas out the seventh-floor window? Had he stood in the hallway and shouted, You’re all limp-dicked sellouts! Every one of you! And especially you, Kelly, you fucking brainless hack! Did they have to carry him out? Was it during the day? Did everyone watch?
    “He’s at St. Richard’s?” she asked.
    “Yep, they’re just checking things out. Helping him get some sleep. I think that’s really going to help.”
    “I’m coming,” she said. “Tell him I’m coming. Did he hurt himself?”
    “No, Cather—he’s not hurt. He’s just sleeping. I think he’s going to be fine. It’s just been a rough couple of months.”
    Months. “I’m coming, okay?”
    “Sure,” Kelly said. “I’m probably going to head home soon. But this is my cell number. You call me if you need anything, okay?”
    “Thank you.”
    “I mean it. Anything at all. You know how I feel about your dad, he’s my lucky penny. I’d do anything for the guy.”
    “Thank you.”
    She hung up before Kelly did. She couldn’t stand any more.
    Then she immediately called Wren. Wren sounded surprised when she answered the phone. Cath cut to the chase—“Dad’s at St. Richard’s.”
    “What? Why?”
    “He lost it at work.”
    “Is he okay?”
    “I don’t know. Kelly said he wouldn’t leave his office.”
    Wren sighed. “Fucking Kelly?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Dad’s going to be mortified.”
    “I know,” Cath said. “I’m going up there as soon as I can figure out a ride.”
    “Did Kelly tell you to come?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I mean, it’s finals week, and you know that Dad is probably tranqed into oblivion right now. We should call tomorrow and see how he’s doing.”
    “Wren, he’s in the hospital.”
    “St. Richard’s isn’t exactly a hospital.”
    “You don’t think we should go?”
    “I think we should finish our finals,” Wren said. “By the time we’re done, he’ll be just coming out of the haze, and we can be there for him.”
    “I’m going,” Cath said. “I’m gonna see if Grandma will come get me.”
    “Grandma’s in Chicago.”
    “Oh. Right.”
    “If you really have to do this, I know that Mom would drive you. If it’s that important to you.”
    “ No. Are you kidding me?”
    “Fine. Whatever. Will you call me when you get to the hospital?”
    Cath wanted to say something mean, like, “I’d hate to interrupt your studies during finals week.” But instead she said,