“What do you mean ‘close to a last name’?”

“Like by adding a letter or something. William isn’t necessarily a last name, but Williams is. Phillip to Phillips. Edward to Edwards. You get it.”

“I do.”

“Then there are the unmodified last names that can also be first names, like Taylor, Scott, Carter, Thomas, Lewis, Harris, Martin, Morris—”

“You think my name is Morris?”

“Just an example.”

“You sure think about names a lot. Wait, don’t tell me, you’re one of those girls who’s already named all her future children.”

“No, I’m not.” Well, not all of them.

“That’s good. And yes, my name can be a last name.”

“A modified one?”

“No.”

“A common one?”

“Not so much.”

I pursed my lips to the side, thinking. “Is it a name that can also double as a word?”

“Explain.”

“You know, like Hunter or Forest or Stone—”

“Or Tree?”

“Ha-ha. No, I was going to say Grant. As in, grant me the patience to deal with this boy while I am trapped in a car with him.”

“Trapped? I seem to recall you practically begging to come with me.”

“I don’t beg.”

With this he let out one big laugh.

“Okay, fine, I begged on prom night but whatever.” I hit him again. Then something occurred to me. “So why were you waiting in the parking lot anyway? You live six blocks from the school and your sister has a cell phone. Plus your sister said you had somewhere to be.”

He was quiet for so long that I thought maybe I’d brought up a sore subject. Finally he said, “If I tell you, I don’t want you to think I’m some sort of creep.”

“I make no promises.”

“I was worried about you.”

“About me?”

“I pulled in right as Bradley had unlinked your arms from his waist and pushed you away. Then you were yelling at each other. And the look on your face after he left . . . I just wanted to make sure you were okay and that you had a ride home. I pulled out a book so I didn’t look too creepy while waiting to see what you were going to do.”

Two feelings competed to take over my emotions. The first was extreme embarrassment at how pathetic I must’ve looked. The second was appreciation at how nice he had been without even knowing me. The gratitude won. “Thank you,” I said. “That’s very . . .”

“Creepy?”

“No, sweet. So is that why?”

“Why, what?”

“You said it wasn’t my smile that got you to go to prom with me but something else. Was it that you felt sorry for me?”

“Maybe a little at first, but then, you looked so . . .”

“Hot?” I prompted when he didn’t finish.

He smiled. “So lonely.”

The smile that had been on my face with the joke slipped off. “Lonely?”

He didn’t respond.

“I have a lot of friends.”

“Don’t be mad. It was just an observation. I was probably wrong.”

“You are wrong.” Here I’d thought he’d seen something in me that I hadn’t known I possessed, something he had figured out about me. It was the main reason I’d wanted to find him. Nobody had ever looked at me with the intensity that he had that first night. Nobody had ever seemed to see inside of me, beyond the obvious. But really he just felt sorry for me. He didn’t know me at all. Why wasn’t I at Logan’s party right now?

“Okay, I’m sorry. But good thing I felt that way or you wouldn’t have had a fake boyfriend that night.”

“True.”

He ran a hand through his hair and threw me a big-eyed look as if to apologize again. It helped. “My name. It can’t double as a word, no.”

Right, back to the game. “Okay, so it’s not a super-famous person, it could be a last name but not a very common one, and it can’t be used in a sentence. This is hard.”

“Well, there are only a million names, so yeah. . . .” He had a nice smile. His top teeth were straight but the bottom ones were competing for space, smashed together in a slightly crooked row. “And I think those are the only questions you can ask about a name, so do you give up?”

“No, those are not the only questions about a name. Is it a place?”

“I’m sure everyone can find a place with their name.”

“So not a place that you know of, then?”

“No.”

“Okay, so not Dallas or Houston, then—”

“You have a thing for Texas?”

“Those were just the first ones I thought of.” I looked around the car and wondered if there were any clues in there. Mail or notes. There was nothing.

“Are you trying to cheat?”

“Maybe. So your sister’s name is Bec. Can you tell me about any special meaning behind that?” I asked, thinking maybe there was a theme.

“That’s not a yes-or-no question. Are we done with the game?”

“Okay, Mr. Rule Follower, I withdraw the question.”

He turned down the radio that had been the background noise of our conversation. “My sister is named after Rebecca from the Bible, but that won’t help you because my dad named my sister and my mom named me. My dad is very religious. My mom’s a hippie, free-loving painter.”