“Please,” she says.

I skip back to the plant room and turn up the radio all the way.

Back on the screened-in porch, Miss Flora Mae says, “Oh, yes! The Isley Brothers!”

I bob my head to the music and lie down on my stomach to study the blank pages of my notepad before closing my eyes to let my thoughts slowly begin to thaw into something I can express into words. The Isley Brothers swirl in my head, singing about loving the one you’re with, and I think this scheme might take more than a letter.

That night, me, Mom, and Dad all have pizza at Mom’s house. We talk more about Dad spending the summer in Connecticut and how Grandma will probably move down here and live with him in his new apartment.

Cheese purrs at my feet, head butting against my shins, in the hopes that he’ll get a scrap of pepperoni.

The three of us finish the entire pizza, and Dad even hangs out for a little while and Mom doesn’t complain when Dad and I flip the channel over to Ghostbusters.

I know there won’t be many more times when it’s just the three of us, and I know my world is about to get bigger in every way—Mom dating, Dad moving, and me starting eighth grade—but maybe part of growing up means letting people and places change so you can find new ways to love them.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Lip-Synching for My Life

I sit on the porch Tuesday morning, waiting for the paper to be delivered. I’m all nerves like I have been the past few weeks, but this time there’s a new determination in the air. The moment it lands at my feet, I hop on my bike and tuck it under my arm.

Oscar’s house is only a ten-minute bike ride away, but I make it in seven.

I run up the steps to the front door and ring the bell twice.

When no one answers, I try again.

Eventually Jorge stumbles to the door in his sleep shorts.

He doesn’t even let me get a word in before he shouts, “Oscar, Sweet Carrots or whatever you call her is here to see you!”

“It’s Sweet Pea,” I mutter, but he’s already going back to bed. “I know you know my name!” I shout.

High schoolers! So rude!

After a few minutes, Oscar appears at the door wearing a Valentine Junior Varsity Wrestling Team T-shirt.

“Nice shirt,” I say.

He crosses his arms. So not amused. “What do you want, Sweet Pea?”

“I have a special delivery for you.”

“I have to get to practice.”

I hold the paper out for him.

“My mom doesn’t subscribe to the paper.”

“Well, consider it a gift.” I’m not good at hiding the desperation in my voice.

“I’m good,” he says and steps past me with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. “I gotta go.”