I was nervous as hell when Mrs. Myers picked me up to go shopping.

She was Fi's mom, and I wanted her to like me, but I also wanted to be honest with her. This whole idea of getting a suit was sweet of her, but very much NOT my thing, so I hoped she'd understand if I suggested returning it afterwards.

No point in hanging on to something I'd never wear again, right? I climbed in the passenger seat, trying to play it cool, but she just smirked at me.

"Okay, so . . . I know what you're thinking. You're thinking a suit is a waste of time, am I right?"

I blinked, wondering when she'd become a mindreader. "Ummm . . ."

She pulled out on the road and laughed. "Eddie, how much money do you have on you right now?"

"Forty and some change," I told her. "I could probably scrounge a little more."

"What if I BET you that I could get you a suit for . . . fifteen dollars at the MOST? A good suit, not some polyester crap," Mrs. Myers added. "Would that help?"

"Maybe," I admitted. "But I still think it's . . ."

"Dumb? Okay," she sighed. "Here's why you need a suit, Eddie. Funerals. Job interviews. Court appearances. Weddings. You're going to have these happen in the future. Some you get to choose, but not all of them. Clothes . . . they're armor. You know that already," Mrs. Myers said quietly. "You wear those big bad rings not only to show the world you're a heavy metal fan, but they're . . . unofficial brass knuckles. You have your wallet on a chain not just to look tough, but because you honestly can't afford to get robbed. Jeans wear longer than khakis, long hair not only shows you're a rebel, but also it's because even going to Shear Perfection is expensive. Stop me when I'm wrong."

Fucking stunned. She had it nailed, and I didn't know what to say until she reached over and took my hand, squeezing it hard.

"Eddie, listen to me. I grew up in a family of six. My father was a custodian, and my mother a waitress. I know what it's like to grow up poor and fast. You and Fi do too. All I'm saying is you don't have to be proud with me."

I was close to crying and I wasn't sure why. Maybe because it was kind of a fucking relief. I looked at Mrs. Myers.

"Why? I mean, I'm nobody special. I'm sure you've already heard that. Shit, I hear it every day." I told her, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Because . . . you make Fi happy," Mrs. Myers told me as we went past Family Video and up Cornwallis Road. "It's been a long damned time since she was, and I owe you so much for that alone. Okay, so you gonna take that bet?" she smiled at me, but I could see her eyes were a little wet.

I nodded, going for that light mood again. "Fifteen dollars. No way you're going to find one. At all."

She pulled into DayBrite Dry Cleaners. This was . . . confusing, but I followed her in.

"Angela! You look good!" the man behind the counter called to us and I watched as they greeted each other. From what I could make out, Mrs. Myers brought her hospital uniforms here. Finally, she said to him, "So, can I have a look at your NPU rack, Luis? I know it's last minute, but-"

"For you, anything," he told her, and he took us around the counter to this office in the back. There were three big rolling racks there and I looked at Mrs. Myers, who was grinning.

"NPU. Never picked up," she told me. "Sometimes people leave stuff behind. Luis holds them for six months and after that, he takes them to the flea market. So . . . let's take a look."

It blew my tiny mind that anybody could 'forget' to pick up a full bedspread, or a wedding dress, but there they were on the racks, along with a shit-ton of other clothing. I spotted a satin varsity jacket before seeing the suit next to it, so I pulled the hanger off the rack.

Mrs. Myers had me put on the coat and she walked around me, checking the fit. "Looks good . . . How are the shoulders?"

I wiggled them. "I can move in it," I told her.

When she held the pants to my waist, the length hit the floor and she laughed. "Okay, the hems need to be taken up, but other than that, I think we might have a winner here. Color's good, it's clean, and . . ." she called to Luis, who peered around the corner.

"Cuanto?"

"Para ti? Diez dólares," he told us.

Son of a bitch. She'd won the bet.

We went to Denslow's for a shirt and were heading back when she gave a sigh. "O-kay, now for the OTHER talk."

I did not like the sound of this, but she'd already been good to me, so I took a breath, ready for whatever she was gonna say.

"Eddie, be smart," she sighed.

I turned my head to look at her, because that wasn't exactly specific. "I'll . . . try?" I offered.

She laughed. "Eddie, if and when . . . use condoms. Yeah, I know I'm not supposed to say something like that because it implies that I approve of you two having sex, but honestly, I've seen the way you and Fi look at each other and it's kind of inevitable. You're in love and both of you are radiating hormones so much I'm surprised you don't glow in the damned dark."

Oh shit! If my face got any hotter it was going to explode, and my heart was going in all crazy patterns now. Panic time!

"No! No, we haven't . . . we're not—" I tried to protest, but Mrs. Myers just shook her head.

"Maybe not today and maybe not tomorrow, but soon," she quoted straight out of that movie we'd seen. "I'm not going to say anything more except please be responsible. We good on that?"

I nodded. Maybe more vigorously than I needed to, but I couldn't help feeling I'd dodged a bullet.

"Okay, stop. You look like one of those bouncy headed dogs," Mrs. Myers giggled. She sounded like Fi when she did that, and I felt my adrenaline start to drain away.

When we got back to the house, Fi had mowed the lawn and was covered in clippings, so she went to clean up while we carried the bags in.

"Okay Eddie, so are you going with those shoes, or do you have another pair?"

"I've got boots," I told Mrs. Myers. "Nothing special but they fit."

"Okay good. I can have Heidi to do the hem on the slacks if I get them to her today . . . lord, do you have an iron?"

"Uhh . . . nnno . . ." Ironing was not something Wayne or I did.

"I've got one in the hall closet, so I'll go over your shirt," she told me. "No tie, we're agreed on that, right?"

"Right, not my thing. Um—" I wanted to say something and say it right.

"Umm?"

"I just . . . thanks."

"Pfft, no need," she smiled at me. "As I told you, you aren't your father, no matter what BS people around here believe. You stand in no one's shadow."

"Sometimes it's hard," I admitted. "It's like you get a reputation just for having the same name, and after a while, you start believing what you get told."

"That's why graduating will be twice as important for you as it is for Fi," Mrs. Myers told me. "You get that diploma and make your uncle and the rest of us proud, ok?"

I dropped a hand on the bag to prevent Fi from peeking when she came into the kitchen.

"It's a surprise," I told her. "You have to wait until banquet."

"Fine," she sniffed. "I wasn't even curious." I knew she was seriously curious because she scrunched up her face in that cute way she does.

Mrs. Myers giggled. "Such LIES!"

Fi pretended to sulk. "It's not fair," she told us. "Not even a little hint?"

"I'm a DM; I am very, VERY good at keeping secrets," I reminded her with a lofty look that dissolved into a grin when she mock-punched my arm.

Mrs. Myers shook her head. "Escalating into violence. Where did I go wrong?"

"Don't blame yourself," I told her, "Fi's bloodthirst probably comes from her dad's side."

We cracked up while Fi sighed.