For one long moment we were staring at each other, and she was right, of course, and we both knew it. Then the sun shifted outside the window, and the kitchen was full of light, bouncing golden off the walls.

I blinked. I almost wanted to cry. But I wasn’t sad at all. My eyes were aching in a happy way. My bones felt looser. It was like a spell had broken, and the whole house felt brighter, better. So I nodded.

“Yes,” I said.

Suddenly Jasper jumped up from the table and grinned, big and goofy. “Hey, Leah, while we wait for the laundry, can we maybe . . . watch a movie? Would that be okay with you?”

“Are you serious? Of course!” I said, and grinned back at her. Just as big. Like I was a mirror. It felt so good to grin like that. To mean it. “That would be great,” I said, and I stood up too, started for the living room. Jasper followed.

Of course we could. We could watch a movie, like normal people do, like friends do. We could sit on the old gray couch, in a pile of pillows and blankets. We could paint our nails if we wanted. We could sip fizzy water and stop the movie periodically to joke around. We could watch two movies, if we felt like it. We could make nachos later. Or ramen.

Because that was what you did, when you didn’t go to camp in the summer. You had a friend over. That was a regular thing to do, if you were thirteen and you had the house to yourself and it was summer vacation and your parents weren’t going to be home for hours. You had fun. I’d forgotten, but now, suddenly, I remembered.

Jasper had reminded me how to be.

Sealed Up Tight

In the living room, Jasper flopped onto the couch and leaned back into the unmatched throw pillows to stretch. When she did, I noticed that her legs were scratched and covered with mosquito bites. Like little-kid legs. Elementary school legs.

Jasper caught me looking. “Ugh,” she said. “This shirt is so stupid.” She pulled her knees up inside it, to cover them. “It used to be my sister’s, a long time ago. I’m not even sure why I still wear it. Have you ever seen anything so awful?”

“Actually . . . yes,” I said. “In fact I have. Wait here a minute.” I ran from the room.

“Leah! Where are you going?” Jasper called after me into the hallway. But I didn’t answer.

When I reentered the room a minute later, I couldn’t help singing out, “Ta-DA.” I was rewarded with a big laugh from Jasper at the sight of my pajamas. My footie pajamas. My one-piece bright yellow footie pajamas. With orange cuffs. They were getting too small, but I could still wiggle into them.

“Yow!” Jasper shouted. “You look . . . amazing!”