“That’s exactly the sort of thing that makes girls fall for boys that are bad for them.” She finally says.

“That I’m an artist?”

“No. That you should feel safe without sex.”

My lips curl into a smile. “Yeah well, I’ve been practicing not being a jackass in front of the mirror. How am I doing?”

“Meh.” She holds up her hand and waves it back and forth. “You moved from negative five to at least a three today after the cease-fire, fridge incident, and painting my toenails.”

“Does the apology at least bring me to a five?” I ask rather than beg.

“Kiss me.” She challenges.

“Shit, don’t do this to me.” I groan into my hands. “You’re testing me, aren’t you?”

She shrugs one shoulder and leans back on her hands.

“And you wonder why I hate you,” I say in a grumpy voice. “No. I’m not going to kiss you.”

She holds up her hand to me. All five fingers. “Congrats, you’re now at a five.”

I high five her, then fall back against the carpet with a laugh. “Life goal made!”

She falls back on the carpet too, and we both stare up at my ceiling. “You do realize you still have those cheesy stars up on your ceiling.”

I put my hands behind my head. “Yup.”

“Don’t you want to take them down?”

“Nah.” I shake my head even though she’s looking up. “I used to look up at them and make wishes.”

“What sort of wishes?”

I realize it’s getting late, and we both have school in the morning, but I like being in her universe, and I like her asking me about mine.

Way too much.

I swallow the lump in my throat as I think about the first star I put up. When it didn’t work like Sesame Street said it would, I put up another, and another, until I had this giant ass constellation up there, surely that would be enough wishes to give me what I wanted.

“You’re going to laugh.” I finally find my voice.

She turns on her side and looks at me. “Try me.”

I glance over at her, and our eyes lock; I never realized how pretty brown eyes were until this moment, until her. “I wanted a sister.”

She frowns, and then it’s like she can read my mind as she whispers, “So you wouldn’t always have to be perfect.”

“So I wouldn’t always have to be perfect.”

She stares deep into my soul. I swear she knows me more than my friends, more than my mom, when she nods and, with a small smile, says, “I guess your wish was finally granted.”

I groan into my hands. “Not what I had in mind, and I mean that in the best way possible.”

“Not to make it weird,” She licks her lips. “But at least your wish was semi-granted.”

“You’re here now.”

“Yup.”

“But call yourself my foster sister one more time, and I’m jumping from the roof, okay?”