It appeared that Bellamy shared a similar affection. “Exactly. Those skeletons in Jason and the Argonauts,” he replied with enthusiasm, “it actually made them seem more real because they were slightly jerky, rickety somehow like you’d imagine reanimated skeletons to be. Like you say, it’s the make-believe, that slight element of unreality, that leaves a lasting impression on the viewer.”

“You’re a guy after my own heart, Bertrand,” replied Rose. “Isn’t he, Mom? I’ve been saying those exact same things for years.”

Her mom nodded. “Hmm.” But Blythe was frowning. What is something Rose had said?

“Mom? You with us?”

“Uh-huh. Jason and the Argonauts. Skeletons. You’re full of surprises, aren’t you, Bellamy.” The sudden sharpening of her voice on his name turned the words into a stern rebuke, the kind she might have given to one of her testy students. It flipped not only the conversation but the entire outing, on its head. Rose felt a little bad for him at first—the poor guy was only making friendly chit-chat—but now she realized his relationship with her mom was not as easygoing as the two of them had tried to make out.

“Okay, Mom, this is getting weird,” she spoke. “You brought him with us, you clearly wanted us to get along and, yet, the first time we do get along you snap at him for it? Care to explain?”

Blythe heaved a big sigh, composed herself, then shrugged. “It’s nothing. I was distracted, is all.”

“Bellamy?”

He just gave her an innocent shrug.

“Then either you’re both hiding something or I’m in need of an antipsychotic.”

“Perhaps you’d settle for another ice cream?” suggested Bellamy, tucking his long hair back behind his ears. “I do fancy myself some more of that mint chocolate chip flavor.”

Rose threw her hands in the air. “Oh, by all means.”

He sprouted one of his sweet, unassuming smiles, then made a beeline for the ice cream stand, even jockeyed for position in the line when a young boy wearing an Avengers sweatshirt tried to hustle ahead of him. Rose rolled her eyes as she watched the two of them semi-playfully shove each other, and decided to settle it herself. Standing tall over the boy, she pointed to the Punisher logo on her T-shirt, a white skull-mask on a black background, and the boy awkwardly stepped away while muttering a profanity far too mature for his innocent lips. Rose, triumphant, grinned and looked to Bellamy, his careless gaze fixated on her shirt. He seemed troubled and curious at the same time; the gloss over his distant eyes reflecting something hidden deep inside. Something Rose was determined to uncover.

She snapped her fingers in front of his nose. “Hey, buddy, I’m up here.”