We talked all night; he told me about his family, his sister, and about growing up in the shadow of The Geekery. We talked about the fake reports and his sister’s reaction when he told her everything. We even talked a little about fate. He filled in all the blanks between Bats and Ridley, and somehow, around two a.m. or so, the two sides of him officially fused into one in my mind. And I really like it, maybe even more than like it, if I’m being honest.

There’s a small part of me, though, a quiet part, that still feels weird about how everything went down, but I shake it off and grab my phone, smiling when I see that it’s him telling me to

BATS: Wake up already!

ME: You left!

BATS: I didn’t want your moms to see me! Now get up.

ME: It’s 8:30. On a Saturday. The only people up now are like athletes or masochists.

BATS: And people who have to work.

ME: Of which we are none.

BATS: Also people who have dates.

ME: Oh my god. You are a massive dork.

BATS: Meet me at Malywick Park in an hour?

ME: An hour?!

BATS: Too soon?

ME: I’ll be there in 20.

BATS: Come on then, Peak. I’m already here.

ME:

I wiggle into some jeans, yank a sweatshirt over my head, pull my hair back into a ponytail, and toss my gloves onto my bed so I don’t forget them. It’s nearly April, but even springtime in New England isn’t so forgiving.

I am ready to go—teeth brushed, mascara applied, winter headband acquired—within ten minutes. I fire off a text to Nikki, because if there’s one person who will have my back in this, it is definitely her. It’s a short text, three words only: We made up.

She doesn’t write back right away; I don’t expect her to. She’ll probably be tied up at the game for the next few hours. That’s what Saturdays are like around here. I usually spend them practicing cello, but every other overachieving kid in town is either at a game or rehearsing for a play.

But today, today is different. Today is . . . fate. Today is meant to be. Today, we’re going to test-drive this tentative more-than-truce we started last night and see how it flies in the daytime.

I slip out of my bedroom, tiptoeing down the hallway, but Vera’s sitting at the kitchen counter already, her coffee steaming in front of her. She puts down her phone and looks up at me, her eyes still bleary. “Jubilee? You’re heading out early. You going to a game?”