“Nah, he’ll probably be at the hospital all night,” he says, and brings one of his hands back up. I will it to my breasts, but he reaches higher and runs his fingers along my collarbone underneath my thin, gold chain. Balancing my medallion on his middle finger, he says, “I’ve never really taken a good look at this before. It’s dope.”

“Thanks,” I say, lean down, and grab his bottom lips with my lips.

He pulls away. “I don’t have any condoms.”

“Oh,” I say, feeling heat start to escape. There’s nothing sexy about the thought of getting pregnant right now. I might not know what I want to do with my life, but I do know I want options.

He hands me his shirt and I put it on. It smells like him, a mixture of pine trees and sweat. “You must’ve not washed this after you wore it last.”

“Don’t know. Here, you want another one?” he asks, bending down to look in his drawer.

“No, I love the way your funk smells.”

“Okay, you’re officially nasty,” he says, laughing, and slides on a black long-sleeved T-shirt.

“And you love it.”

REX

Back in my room, I’m sitting on my bed and Carli is walking around looking at everything. Touching everything. She picks up a small gold-and-pearl turtle off my nightstand and lifts its shell. “Where do you get all this stuff?” she asks. “Do you go antiquing?”

“Antiquing? Man, nah. I found it all in some boxes marked for donation during our move. It all belonged to my mom.”

She can’t put down the turtle fast enough. “Why would your dad want to give your mom’s stuff away? It’s all so cool.”

“I don’t know. When we moved, it seemed like he wanted to leave everything behind, including my mom.” The words feel so right coming out. Like they needed to be said. They’ve been floating around in my head since we moved out here last summer.

“Your dad doesn’t care that you kept it all and have it up here?”

“He doesn’t know.”

“What do you mean he doesn’t know?”

“Well, he’s never been up here. So—”

“Wait. Your dad has never been in your room?”

“I told you I had a lot to tell you.”

Carli’s standing beside my bed with her hands clasped in front of her—hush-mouthed. She clearly doesn’t know what to say about my father. And she hasn’t picked up anything else. Don’t know if she thinks I would care or Mom would care, but either way, it’s starting to feel way too heavy in here. “I have something I want to show you,” I say, get up, and grab my backpack from the corner beside the sliding door. “Come on.”

CARLI