Andreas messed up Elliot’s hair even more and rolled his eyes. “It’s barely noon, prick.”

“I think Mom should have you tested for narcolepsy.”

With a dull punch to Elliot’s shoulder, Andreas turned toward the stairs. “I’m heading to Amie’s. Nice seeing you, Macy.”

“You, too,” I said lamely.

Andreas winked over his shoulder. “Oh, and Elliot?” he called.

“Yeah?”

“Door open.”

His booming laugh filled the upstairs hall before finally disappearing behind the click of a closed door.

Elliot started toward the stairs but then stopped, turning around to frown at me. “Let’s go to your house.”

“You don’t want to show me around?”

With a groan, he turned and pointed around us. “Living room, dining room, kitchen through there.” He pivoted in place, indicating each room with a jab of his index finger. He walked up the stairs and I followed him as he mumbled, “Stairs,” and “Hallway,” and “Bathroom,” and “Parents’ room,” and a list of other monotone labels until we stood in front of a closed white door with a periodic table taped to it.

“This one’s mine.”

“Wow, that’s . . . expected,” I said with a laugh. I was so happy to see his space, I felt a little dizzy.

“I didn’t put that there, Andreas did.” His voice took on an edge of defensiveness, as if he could only stand to be seen as ninety-eight percent nerd.

“But you haven’t taken it down,” I pointed out.

“It’s a good poster. He got it at a science fair.” He turned to me and shrugged, dropping his eyes. “It would be a waste to get rid of it, and he’d give me endless crap if I put it inside my room.”

He opened the door and said nothing, only stepping back to let me move past him into his bedroom. Anxiety and thrill hit me in a blast: I was entering a boy’s bedroom.

I was entering Elliot’s bedroom.

It was sparse and immaculate: bed made, only a few dirty laundry items in a basket in the corner, drawers of his dresser neatly closed. The only disorder was in a pile of books stacked on his desk, and a box of books in the corner.

I sensed Elliot’s tense presence behind me, could hear the jerky cadence of his breathing. I knew he wanted to get away from the chaos of his house and into the solitude of the closet, but I couldn’t tear myself away. Behind his desk was a bulletin board, with a few ribbons pinned there, a photograph, and a postcard with a picture of Maui.

Moving closer, I leaned in, studying.

“Just some science fairs,” he mumbled behind me, explaining the ribbons.

First place in his category at the Sonoma County science fair, three years in a row.

“Wow.” I looked over my shoulder at him. “You’re smart.”

His smile came out crooked, his cheeks popped with color. “Nah.”

I turned back, examining the photograph tacked in the corner. In it were three boys, including Elliot, and a girl on the far left. It looked like it had been taken a few years ago.