Now that’s a good rhombus! And I already know exactly where it needs to hang. I push myself off the sofa. Hard. Even harder because it’s one of those sofas that tries to swallow you whole. Good thing my stomach is feeling better. No way I could’ve done this last week.

My new room is bare except for a bed underneath a large multipaned window, two cherry nightstands with iron scroll lamps, a matching dresser, and that life-sized poster of Candace Parker. I know, I know. I said she was coming down. But I didn’t have the heart. Daddy was too proud of her. But you know what I will do? I’ll pin this cosmic latte fact over the orange-and-white Spalding she’s dribbling up the court.

Much better. Candace’s yellow Los Angeles Sparks uniform will be next. Then her black knee braces, then her orange high-tops, and finally her black socks. Her face can stay. It would be a shame to cover such a determined face. Oooo, maybe I’ll add a little speech bubble next to her mouth with a quote about those ancient penguins who grew to be almost seven feet tall.

The doorbell rings. Rex. If only I had the hospital menu to give to him today. But Chico claims he gave it to Cole, who claims he never got anything from Chico. So who knows where it’s at now?

“I’ll get it!” Cole shouts from the kitchen. He’s been in there making snacks for Rex for the last hour.

Dang, can I be the one to answer the door? Rex is my date.

“Oh, is Rex here?” Daddy yells from his bedroom.

“Yeah,” Cole shouts back. And by the time I walk out of my room, Cole is already whizzing past me to answer the door. I swear, Daddy and Cole have been entirely too excited about Rex coming today.

Cole swings opens the front door. “What up!” he says, and reaches to give Rex a hug.

REX

Cole hugs me, and it feels like love. Carli, standing right behind him, smiles at me, and it feels like love. Carli’s dad comes around a corner, filling out the hallway frame with his tall body, and it feels like love.

Hold up. I’m not used to this. My father doesn’t give two shits about me—fact. No need to sugarcoat it. And sure, Angie checks for me. But at first, she was paid to. And she has the people she’s never been paid to care for waiting for her at home. Also fact. And no girl has ever truly cared about me. Maybe the basketball me, but never the real me.