Pulling the last sheet of cling wrap tightly across the doorway, I smooth out the wrinkles and tape it in place. Eva will never see this coming.
I check the lighting in the hallway, then retreat to the end to set up the tripod and camera. The remote control I bought last summer will make triggering the video easy. I peer at the screen, framing the door perfectly in a vertical orientation. Then I tiptoe down the stairs.
I have years of experience pranking my family, but that mostly ended when Judy and I got married. She didn’t appreciate my brand of comedy—at least not when she was the victim. But after Judy left, I let my inner prankster loose. Fortunately, my daughter Eva shares my sense of humor.
The key to a good prank is not giving it away in advance. I need to pretend this is just any other morning.
Hoping she’s forgotten the date, I tromp back up the stairs at my usual pace, pausing outside her door. I knock three times, as always, then twist the knob and shove it inward. “Time to get up, sleepyhead.”
Vague muttering issues from the dark room.
“You have to drive back to Eugene today. I made pancakes for your last breakfast!”
More muttering. “Coming.”
Holding back a snicker, I retreat toward the stairs and hit the record button on the remote.
The door swings wider, and Eva ducks under the plastic wrap. She straightens, rolls her eyes at me, then waves a hand at the camera. “Very funny, Dad. You tried that my senior year, remember?” Her yellow Tweety Bird pajamas add a splash of bright color to the dim hall.
I groan. “I hoped you’d forget. It’s been two years since you were home on April Fool’s Day.”
She bares her teeth in an almost feral grin. “You’ve lost your touch, old man. I’ll be down in a minute.” She strides across the hall.
And bounces off the plastic wrap stretched across the bathroom door.
A cackle of laughter bursts out of me, and I sag against the wall. “You should see your face—oh, wait, you will as soon as I load that on the TikTok. And the Instagram. And the SnapChat.” I add “the” to the names because I know it drives her crazy. Wiping a tear from my cheek, I click the stop button on my remote. “That was perfect!”
“It was perfect.” She lunges down the hall, ripping the phone from the tripod. “But not if I delete it first!”
I give myself a dramatic head slap and hurry toward her. “No, don’t do that! I never get you. Leave an old man his tiny victories.”
She holds the phone away from me as I try to grab it. “I’m sure you’ll tell everyone about it. But without evidence, no one will believe you.” Turning her back to shield the phone, she presses the home button, but the screen doesn’t unlock. I stretch around her, but my fingers miss the device. With a mock glare, she types in a passcode, but it doesn’t work. She huffs out an exasperated sigh and tries a different code. The phone unlocks. “Ha!”
I let my shoulders sag. “You’re right. Gimme the phone and I’ll delete it.”
“Not a chance. I’m doing this myself.” She flicks into the photo app and deletes the video.
I hold out a hand, but she waggles a finger at me. “Nope. Not done yet.” She swipes into Google Photos and deletes the automatic backup copy, too. “Too bad you taught me all your tricks, Dad.”
“That’s what a good father does. You’d think a good daughter would leave him one copy of his best prank in years.”
She grins again and hands the phone back. “Not gonna happen.”
I pocket it and head down the stairs. “In that case, you can take down the plastic wrap yourself.”
She chuckles. “You wish. I’m outta here in an hour or two, remember? I can duck under it in the meantime.”
“It will still be here when you come back in June, then.” As I return to the kitchen, the bathroom door clicks shut. I wouldn’t really leave the plastic up until the end of the school year, and she won’t either. Since her mother left two years ago, we’ve pranked each other more often, but we’ve also developed a much more adult relationship. Eva works hard to fill the void when she’s home.
Judy walked out the week after Eva graduated from high school. She told us her job here was done. She’d never been the most nurturing of mothers—I was the one who attended school conferences, concerts, and field trips. My professional life offered more flexibility and less earning power, so it made sense. But the cold way in which she’d announced her departure still burned—more on Eva’s behalf than from any lingering sense of personal loss. We’d stopped being a couple many years before but had continued to live in the same house. I’d long suspected Judy stayed because she felt an obligation to our daughter, and at the end, she made it crystal clear that was her only reason.
I pour some batter into the sizzling electric skillet and sprinkle chocolate chips across the top. While the batter cooks, I unlock my phone and tap the Dropbox icon. Ha! The old man still has a few tricks up his sleeve. I upload the video to TikTok—an account created solely to embarrass my darling daughter—and add some text and a catchy song. Post.
Humming the melody I just uploaded, I flip the pancakes and put plates on the table. I pour maple syrup into a small pitcher to microwave it, then pull the bacon from the oven.
“Daaaaad!” Eva arrives in the kitchen, menacing me with her phone. “How—”
I do my best evil laugh. “I don’t share all my secrets.”
* * *
After Eva drives away, the house is quiet. Too quiet. I grab the remote and flick through the channels, stopping when I see a familiar face on the screen. Nica Holmes has always been my celebrity crush, but I’ve watched her a lot more since Judy left. I can recite all her movies from memory, which is impressive, if I do say so myself, since she’s done a lot of them.
I finish putting the dishes into the dishwasher and go upstairs to strip Eva’s bed. As predicted, the plastic wrap is gone. With a quick yank, the shades open, spilling bright sunlight across the cluttered floor and overflowing bookshelves. I pull off the sheets, spread the duvet over the mattress, and move the pile of stuffed animals to the foot of the bed.
The door opens and closes downstairs, and a voice echoes up. “Where are you, Matt?” Rachel Foster, my next-door neighbor and best friend.
I grab the pile of sheets and head for the hallway. “Cleaning up after Eva.” I give the cluttered room another look, then pull the door shut. I’ll vacuum later. “What’s up?”
When I reach the living room, I find Rachel watching television. She turns, her short blonde hair flaring around her face. “Eva’s just left, and you’ve already got Nica on?”
I ignore the question, carrying my burden around the corner to the laundry room. “Did you need something? You know I won’t let you come between me and Nica.”
She chuckles as she follows me. “I wouldn’t dare. I’m having trouble with my water. Is yours working?”
I dump the towels and sheets into the top-loader and turn. “Trouble with your water?”
Her face goes a little pink. Rachel hates to ask for help from us mere mortals. “Yeah, I figured I’d check with you before trying anything drastic. Maybe the city is having an issue?”
“The city?” I give a little headshake and press the start button. Water gushes into the washer drum. “No trouble here. What’s going on at your house?” I dump some soap into the machine and shut the lid.
“It’s just not working.” She heads into the kitchen, and I follow. Something weird is going on—Rachel doesn’t do vague. She’s a former fighter pilot and figuring out technical details is child’s play for her. She stops by the kitchen sink. Stepping to one side, she waves at the faucet. “Is yours working?”
I hesitate as I step closer. Rachel’s face is still pink, and her lip is twitching. Is she about to cry? Her fiancé, my brother Blake, had been out of town for a few weeks, but it’s not like Rachel to get flustered because she doesn’t have a man around to deal with this kind of thing. She is one of the most competent people I have ever met. Besides, Blake got back three days ago. “Why wouldn’t it be?” I reach for the faucet and pull the lever. A gush of water sprays into my face. “Whaaa?” I slam the water off.
Rachel bursts into laughter, joined by Eva, who pops up from behind the kitchen island. “Ha! Got ya, Dad!” She waggles her phone in the air.
I glare at Rachel. “Really, you double-teamed me? After you refused to help me with—” I break off, glancing at my daughter.
“Help you with what?” Eva looks up from the phone, gaze zeroing in on me. “Did you plan something else?”
Avoiding her eyes, I wipe the water from my face, then unwrap the packing tape from the kitchen sprayer. There’s nothing to tell—it was a minor prank I wanted to play on Blake—but keeping Eva in the dark is definitely more fun than coming clean. And probably good parenting, right? I’m teaching her resilience, or something like that. “You don’t need to know. Aren’t you supposed to be driving to Eugene?”
“Yeah, I really gotta go now. Thanks for the help, Rachel!” She grins and throws her arms around me in another hug. “Ew, wet.”
I smack her hip. “Drive safely. Text me when you get there.”
“Of course.” She hugs Rachel, then blows me a kiss as she heads for the door. “Don’t forget to check my TikTok. You’re going viral!”
The front door slams closed as I holler back, “You wish!” I pull a handful of paper towels from the roll and crouch to mop up the front of the cupboard, craning my neck to look up at Rachel. “I assume there’s nothing wrong with your water.”
She rolls her eyes. “Please. I know more about plumbing than you do. I can’t believe you bought that. I told Eva we should have sent Blake over instead.”
I snicker. My little brother may be a big-time country music singer, but he’s almost useless with household repairs. Good thing he can afford to hire people—and that his fiancée is pretty handy. “That would have been way more believable. But your acting has gotten better.”
She grins and flourishes her arms as she takes a theatrical bow. “Your praise warms my heart. Don’t forget we’re meeting with the wedding planner tomorrow afternoon.”
“Got it. Hey, you want some coffee?”
Her head turns toward the television, where a single tear rolls down my favorite actress’s perfect cheek. “You sure you want me here? I don’t want to come between you and your true love.”
I finish soaking up the water and toss the wet paper towels into the trash. “She doesn’t mind. Did you hear she has a big screen movie coming out? With Hugh Harper and Ryan Davis. You’ll have to come see it with me.”
“Sure. You know I like Hugh.” Her gaze falls on the extra pancakes cooling on the counter. “Ooh, chocolate chip. Can I have one?”
“Help yourself. The rest are going in the freezer until Eva comes back. Or Blake shows up for a snack. In fact, maybe you’d better take one for him, too.” I pull a zipper bag from a drawer and stack the remaining pancakes inside. “Or you can take them all.”
She grabs a pair of pancakes and heads for the slider door to the backyard. “He doesn’t need that many carbs. You wanna ride with us to the Ranch tomorrow?”
“I have to work. I’ll meet you there.”
She gives a thumbs-up, then pulls the slider open. “Perfect. We can do dinner after.” We’re visiting the chapel at Copper Butte Ranch to meet with the wedding planner for her wedding. I know, that’s not a real he-man kind of thing to do, but I’m the best man, and Blake has a surprise cooked up.
I wave as she disappears around the corner of the house. Then I go in search of any other pranks my daughter might have left behind.
