Today, Dad is picking me up at school to take me out for ice cream.

He used to do this back at our old apartment. Nico eats up a lot of attention, so Dad said we should get to hang out just the two of us. I was worried that he wouldn’t want to do it anymore after we moved, especially because he’s building up his business in our new town, but then yesterday he told me he was picking me up tomorrow in his truck. And now I’m waiting for him outside the school.

I’ve never been picked up before, only taken the school bus, so I’m not entirely sure where to wait. I end up behind the school, because there is a place for cars to pull over there. But then everybody leaves and it gets real quiet, and I can’t help but start thinking about that kid, Braden Lundie. The one who disappeared.

The thought of that really scares me. Because when you disappear, what happens to you? I mean, it’s not like he just vanished off the face of the earth. He didn’t disintegrate. Somebody took him.

“Ada?”

At first, I am grateful to hear a kid’s voice from behind me. Until I turn around and realize it’s Gabe. Pretty much the last person I want to see.

Ever since my first day of school a few weeks ago, Gabe won’t leave me alone. I found some girls to sit with during lunch, and he knows better than to try to join us, but he always gets in line behind me in the cafeteria, and then he follows me to recess. I hardly ever talk to him, so I don’t understand why he keeps bugging me.

“What are you doing here?” he asks me. “I thought you take the school bus.”

“I’m getting picked up,” I say. “Except I don’t know where my dad

is.”

And now that I am looking around, I realize there’s no way to get

onto this street from the main road. It’s all blocked off. So there’s no way Dad can find me here. I’ve got to walk around and see if I can find him. And then tell him I need a cell phone, because I really do.

“Listen, Ada,” Gabe says, “I wanted to ask you a question.”

I don’t want him to ask me a question. “Sorry, I need to find my dad.”

“Right, but I just have to ask you this.” Gabe is really bad at taking no for an answer. It’s annoying. “Do you think you might want to go on a date with me sometime?”

“I’m not allowed to date.”

That’s not an official rule, but I have a feeling that it would be if I asked. But I’m not going to ask, because I don’t want to go out on a date with Gabe or anybody.

“Well, would it be okay if I held your hand?”

I don’t even have a chance to say no this time before Gabe reaches out to grab my hand. His is sweaty and hot. It’s pretty gross to touch. I pull away, but instead of backing off, he grabs my wrist instead.

“I don’t want to hold hands,” I say. Even though he’s not holding my hand anymore—he’s grabbing my wrist.

Gabe still isn’t getting it. His long fingers encircle my wrist as he tightens his grip. “Just for, like, two minutes, Ada. Please?”

“You’re hurting me,” I say through my teeth. “No, I’m not,” he insists.

I try to wrench my hand away, but he’s holding on too tightly. I start thinking about something my mom told me, about how boys are really sensitive between their legs and if you kick them there, they will leave you alone. But before I have a chance to test that out, we get interrupted by a string of angry Italian words and then my dad’s voice booming out, “WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING TO MY DAUGHTER?”

Gabe drops my wrist instantly. Dad is running over to us, and he looks about as mad as I have ever seen him. There is a big scary vein standing out in his neck, and his right hand is a fist. He looks like he wants to pick up Gabe and break him in half. And I’m pretty sure he could if he wanted to. I mean, my dad is really strong.

“I I’m sorry,” Gabe sputters.

“No!” Dad waves his hand at me. “You say sorry to her!”

Gabe is just about to pee in his pants. “I’m sorry, Ada! I’m really sorry!”

Dad seems like he’s barely keeping himself from beating Gabe into a bloody pulp. He gets real close to him, and his dark eyes look terrifying. Mine are the same color, but they never look scary like his can sometimes.

“If you ever touch my daughter again,” Dad hisses at him, “you will understand what sorry really means. You understand me?”

“Yes!” Gabe cries. “I mean, no! I mean ”

He looks between the two of us, and then without another word, he runs away as fast as he can.

Dad looks really upset. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him quite so angry before. At first, he’s breathing hard, but then he calms down and gets this kind of sad expression on his face.

“Come on, Ada,” he tells me. “We need to talk. In the truck.”

Is he mad at me? I didn’t do anything wrong. Did I? I didn’t want to hold Gabe’s hand. But maybe he couldn’t tell that I was trying to get away. Except he doesn’t really seem angry at me. He just seems upset. Like, in general.

We have to walk all the way back to his truck, which he parked in the school lot. He must’ve parked and then walked around looking for me. He tells me to get inside, and when I start to get in the back, he tells me to get in the front.

But then when we are in the car, he doesn’t start the engine. He just sits in the driver’s seat, not saying anything. He’s looking down at my wrist where Gabe was holding on to me. The place where his fingers were has now turned an angry shade of red. I wonder if I will have a bruise.

“Ada,” he says, “that was scary.”

I nod. “It’s okay though. Because you were there.”

“That’s the scary part,” he says. “I was there. But next time, I might not be there. I will not always be there.”

I guess he’s right, but at the same time, it seems like he is always there. Every time I have ever needed him, he has been there. It seems impossible that there will be a time when I need my dad and he won’t be around for me. Like, Gabe was bothering me, and there he was— coming out of nowhere to scare him off and save me.

“I told my sister I would always be there,” he murmurs, almost to himself, “but then ”

I am named after my dad’s sister. Her name was Antonia, and she died before I was born. Dad sometimes talks about her and how much he loved her, but he’s never said how she died. It must have been something bad though, because she was so young.

“If a boy is bothering you,” he says, “you ask him to stop. You be firm about it. Make sure he knows.”

I nod solemnly.

“But there’s a chance he might not stop.” Dad’s dark eyebrows come together, and he gets a deep crease between them. “And if that happens ”

Dad is quiet for a second, thinking something over. Finally, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out that pocketknife he always carries around. The one that his dad gave him, which has his initials engraved on it.

“My father gave me this when I was your age,” he says. “Now I give it to you.”

“Dad!” I cry. “I can’t carry around a knife with me! I’ll get in trouble!”

“You do not get in trouble if nobody knows,” he says.

I look down at the knife in his hands. Even though I shouldn’t, I’m itching to pick it up. I’ve always liked that knife because it reminds me of my dad. I figured he would give it to Nico someday, but instead, he’s giving it to me.

“What am I supposed to do with it?” I ask him.

“Nothing,” he says. “You carry it with you, but you never use it.

Only if you have to.”

“But ” I stare down at the knife, still in his hand. The blade is retracted, but I bet it’s sharp. “You really think I could ”

“Only if you have to, Ada,” he repeats. He touches an area to the right of his belly button. “You put the blade right in here. And then ” He jerks his wrist. “You twist.”

I stare up at him. “Did you ever do that?”

“Me?” His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, no. This is just cautionary.” He holds the knife out to me again. This time, I take it from him.