“Just a sec.” I heard him typing, then he said, “Casey says he probably meant his home health aide, whatever that is. Casey says his GG’s kind of sexist and calls her honey all the time. I guess she takes him places and drops him off, like the library or park or whatever, and he’s always mad, saying ‘that girl’ left him there for too long.”

I grabbed a nearby pillow and slammed it into my face, shouting, “OHMYGOD” into it. Feeling so dumb for spending my entire summer freaking out about a poor man who has dementia—and so embarrassed to be discovering this in front of Izzy.

“I have to go home,” I said, my words muffled.

I felt tugging at the corner of the pillow. “Want me to show you a failed magic trick? Or I could sing? That’s pretty embarrassing, too.”

“You’d probably just be good at it,” I mumbled. “You’re good at everything. Nothing you do is embarrassing.”

Izzy laughed loudly and tugged gently at the corner of the pillow again. “I still dress up for Halloween every year.”

“That’s because Halloween is the best holiday of the year.” It was hot under the pillow—and inside my skin.

“I use my mom’s hydrating sheet masks sometimes.”

I couldn’t help it; I smiled picturing Izzy and his mom having a “spa day” together.

“Oh! And in sixth grade, I got a C minus in PE!”

I dropped the pillow into my lap and looked at him seriously. “That’s impossible. You’re lying. Who gets a C minus in PE?”

“Someone who can’t square dance?” I held back laughter while he kept talking. “Why do they teach square dancing, anyway? Don’t bother teaching us self-defense or CPR or something we might use in the real world. Teach us how to square dance! That’ll come in handy in all sorts of practical life situations! Having a tough day? Square dance! See someone choking at a restaurant? Square dance! Find yourself surrounded by supervillains?”

“Square dance!” we said in unison, both of us cracking up, his laugh making me laugh harder until my sides ached and tears sprung out of my eyes.

“Thanks, Izzy,” I said when I’d calmed down.

“Sure, yeah, no problem,” he said, looking at his feet, then back at me.

Our eyes locked, and there was a second when I thought I was about to have my first kiss. But then the door at the top of the stairs opened and Izzy’s mom called down, asking if I was staying for dinner. I couldn’t because Aunt Maureen was making burgers at my request, and besides, I was ready to go. It’d been a roller-coaster few hours, and I needed time by myself.