“Sure,” I say as I look toward the Green Monstrosity. I’ll go find him in a minute.

A minute turns into ten minutes, but as soon as Anna’s distracted, rolling her eyes as JJ refuses to eat the hamburger she’s made for him (“Uncle Ty said that it’s made with hormones that’ll make me shrink! Motherfucking balls!”), I blend quietly into the crowd, stopping by the present table, piled high with gifts. I grab the square package that’s badly wrapped (I understand the math behind it, what with angles and all, but wrapping presents is not exactly my forte; I think maybe I’ve used the world’s supply of scotch tape just to wrap a present the size of a book), before heading toward the house.

And it’s in these last steps before I reach the screen door that my decision is made. It’s in these last steps I take that I can’t imagine myself being away from him, not for any stretch of time. It’s in these last steps that I know I’ll tell Bear that I want to stay here for another year, just to find my bearings. And while that is true, the real reason I’ll stay is because of Dom. The real reason I’ll stay is to make sure Dom knows how I feel about him. I’ll have a whole year to convince him he belongs to me, that I’m not just some kid who has tagged along by his side for the past six years. I’ll convince him that where he goes, I go. If he wants to stay in Seafare forever, then I will too. I don’t need to go to school. I don’t need any of it. I just need him. When I tell him, the look of relief on his face will be such a palpable thing that I’ll wonder why there was ever really a choice at all. I don’t think about Bear’s and Otter’s reactions. I don’t think about their disappointment because they’ll get over it. They’ll be fine. They’ll understand. They’ll know because they have to know. They’ll have to understand.

A little voice inside tells me I’m being foolish, that I can’t make decisions that’ll affect the rest of my life just because I’ve somehow convinced myself I’m in love with my best friend. I’ll regret this moment, it says, because it’s silly to think that something like this could last, that feelings like this, so bright and new and ridiculous, could ever be returned. You’re fifteen years old, it says. What would he want with a kid? Because that’s who you are. That’s your name. That’s what everyone calls you and that’s what you’ll always be. The Kid.

Except that he’s never called me that. I’ve always been Tyson to him, nothing more, nothing less.

I smile as I open the sliding glass door. I see a few people inside the kitchen, but no Dom. I think about calling out to him, but I can’t trust my voice not to come out with a crack. My throat burns and my heart races. I almost drop the present I’m carrying because my hands are clammy. I’m nervous, beyond nervous, but it’s a good feeling, an odd feeling. Like anticipation. Like hope. Like it means something. Like it means everything.