It took me two hours to find just what I needed, but once it was decided, I couldn’t wait to tell Dad. I jerked my curtain back quick, shaking a million more pieces of glitter onto the floor. Dad sat squished down into the couch, grinning at me like he’d been expecting my entrance.

“Guess what,” I said, holding my closed fist out toward him.

“You chose a sliver,” he said.

“I chose a couple.”

I sat next to him and set the two soaps side by side on the coffee table.

“I’ve made you a believer,” Dad said, looking all like his gladness might spring a leak. “So I’m dying to know. What’d you pick?”

“Well first, I’ve chosen this M T one. That stands for Mother Teresa.”

“Mother Teresa!” Dad said. “Helper of thousands of poor and sick people. What an honorable choice, Cass.

“Now, tell me about this J P one,” he said.

“That one is Juan Ponce de León.”

“Oooh, a fine Spanish explorer,” said Dad. “So which one will you use first?”

“Well, the thing is…”

My words circled around and around in my head like a dog looking for a comfy spot. And then I finally just came out with it.

“They’re not for me.”

“Really?” said Dad. “Then who are they for?”

“Well, I read that when Mother Teresa won the Nobel Peace Prize, someone asked her what people could do to make world peace, and she answered, ‘Go home and love your family.’

“So I thought we could give that one to Mom,” I said. “You know, to help her do the right thing.”

“Cass—”

I didn’t even give him the chance to argue. “And then that leaves the Juan Ponce de León one for you,” I said super quick.

“And why is that?” Dad asked.

“Because he discovered Florida.”

After that, there was a silence dead as beef jerky in The Roast. Dad grabbed a Popular Mechanics from the top of the magazine stack and flipped through it so fast, he would have to be the speed-reading champion of the world to even catch a word.

I felt a little burgle in my belly. “I was just thinking that maybe we could use the power of Sway to fix us,” I said.

I pulled hard at both my eyebrows while Dad just flipped and flipped and flipped more pages. Despite the fanned air coming off that magazine, my ears got so hot and itchy I could hardly stand it. How in the world could he be willing to share Sway with a bunch of strangers, but not with his own wife?

“Why can’t we talk to her?” I said, glaring holes through him. “I mean really why.”

“Plain and simple.” Dad rolled his magazine tighter and tighter. “Even if we did, she wouldn’t listen.”

“But I think you’re wrong,” I said. “I think she would listen because we’ve got good stuff to say. I think she would think Sway is the neatest thing ever.”

“If only that were so, Cass.”

“Why can’t it be so? Maybe she’d even be so excited about it she’d come right on home just to be a part of this summer. A part of us, together. Just like you wanted…or at least like you said you wanted.”

Dad looked at me like I’d spit on him.

“Cass, your mom is going to have to decide to come back on her own, okay?” he said. “End of discussion.”

“Okay,” I said. “Then let’s just call her and give her a reason to. Let’s tell her all this. Let’s tell her about Sway.”

I thought of admitting we had refill minutes just waiting to be freed from the beauty box, but he instantly made me glad I didn’t.

“There are things you don’t understand,” Dad said. “Things that have nothing to do with me and you.”

“Things you don’t even want to fix,” I said bitterly.

Dad slowly shook his head. “Cass, some words have been said and some things have been done that make it very hard for me to want to share this summer with your mom. And besides, didn’t I say end of discussion?”

Even more burgle inside.

“I heard all that,” I said. “But I guess I thought that maybe, just maybe, your M. B. could stand for Mercy Bo-koops.”

Dad stopped mid-sigh.

“You know,” I said. “As in lots of forgiveness.”

“Okay, enough.” He dug a packet of headache powder from his duffel. “I’ll think about it.”

My burgle calmed a bit. At least thinking about it was a start. “Good,” I said. “Then tomorrow we can—”

“Cass, please. Enough, okay?”

Suddenly, it felt like there was this imaginary long, stretchy accordion part of The Roast, fast pulling Dad and me apart. Then he flopped down on the couch and rolled over to face the back of it, leaving me just standing there like a doofus, like I’d been hung up on, but in a worse way—in an in-person way. Banishing me and my disappointment to hang out together on our end of the RV.

“Fine,” I said to the back of his head. “I’m going to bed.”

I’d had just about enough of his stubbornness, and besides, I had a certain refill card and phone to introduce to each other. If Dad wasn’t going to tell Mom about Sway right away, then I would definitely have to take matters into my own hands.

End of discussion.