“Knock it off.” I laugh, giving her a little shove on the shoulder at the top of her driveway.

“Text me!” she shouts, hiking her bags up and jogging to her front door. “I want to hear all about this mysterious guest!”

I turn and head down Rudy Street toward home. From a few houses away, I can tell there are no extra cars in our driveway, but I do notice that there are an awful lot of lights on inside the house. It’s all lit up, like for a party.

“Birdie, I’m home,” I say, stepping into the front room and closing the door behind me. My ribs ache when I turn, and I grimace.

“Julian? We’re in the kitchen!”

I drop my bags on the couch.

In the kitchen, both stools are taken. Sitting on one is Birdie with a cup of tea. On the other is a tall boy with shoulder-length wavy hair, wearing basketball shorts and a tank top. The boy turns toward me, and my heart jumps into my throat. I swear I can feel it pounding against my tonsils.

“Elijah Vance?” I say, my voice sounding small over the sound of my heartbeat banging in my ears.

“Hey, Julian.” His voice shakes, and a crooked smile touches his full lips.

My skin prickles from my shoulders all the way down my back when I look at his smile. It’s still familiar to me, even after all these years, but it also looks strange on this older face sitting in my kitchen.

“Elijah.”

· four ·

ELIJAH

I can’t read the expression on his face when he first sees me. His eyes sweep from the top of my head to my shoes, and I can feel the heat creeping up my neck as he stares at me. The room fills with tension that I can feel in my bones.

“Hey, Julian,” I say, my voice more timid than I want it to be.

His face is soft for a minute, and I try to smile, even though I know it’s crooked. My stomach lurches.

“Elijah.”

“It’s so good to see you, Julian,” I say, the words tumbling from my chest and out of my mouth faster than I can stop them.

I stand up and take a step toward Julian. To what? Hug him? Shake his hand? I’m moving toward him without really knowing why when I notice his face has turned from soft to stormy in the blink of an eye. I stop short in the kitchen doorway.

“Why are you here?” His brow furrows and his jaw tenses.

It’s like a punch in the gut.

“Julian!” Ms. Jackson admonishes, putting her hand on my shoulder. “Elijah’s going to be staying with us for a while. And there’s no call for that rude tone.”