Chapters (31)
Another hour passes, and the little girl and her grandpa are gone. Fishless, despite my having been quiet for the rest of my time as their peninsula neighbor. I’m lying in the grass, my clothes soaking up the heat of the afternoon sun, when my phone buzzes. Excitedly, I roll onto my stomach, to see if Emma is getting off of work early. But it isn’t Emma. It’s a text I’ve been waiting for, for two weeks now. Except now that it’s here, I wish it weren’t. Because I don’t know what to make of it. And I don’t know how I feel about it. But I’m definitely not answering it.
Zander:
I miss you.
After an afternoon of grass-sitting, sun-soaking, and boy-cursing (both new and old), I’m in the kitchen in my ratty old shorts and a tank top when I get a text from Ellis, inviting me to a bonfire. Part of me wants to just hole up in my room and show Aiden that if he wants to avoid me I can avoid him right back. But the other part of me hopes that if I go, he’ll be there too. I’d love to see the look on his face when he realizes he’ll be trapped in the woods with me, after spending half of the week avoiding me. Still, a very equal part of me loves the idea of just lying on the couch and waiting for Emma to get off of her dinner shift. Except there’s a 95 percent chance she’s out with Mani before she even thinks to text me. And I don’t even blame her.
Throwing myself back onto my bed, I look up at my ceiling, covered in tiny blue clouds and yellow stars. Aunt Sarah and I decorated it the summer I was eight, when I was spending a lot more time at her house on weekends when Oma needed a break, and Aunt Sarah wanted me to have my own room. We made stamps from cut potatoes, and I’d dip each one in paint and send them up the ladder to Aunt Sarah, who would press it onto the white ceiling. Some are light blue and some are dark, because eight-year-old Olivia didn’t know anything about consistency. I sort of love that they’re all so different.
I let out a deep sigh, because I know what I need to do. The old Magic 8-Ball is still sitting on my desk, and I grab it and sit on the edge of the bed again.
Should I go out tonight? Shake shake shake.
The dark blue liquid sloshes around and the white triangle appears in the window, surrounded by tiny bubbles.
Without a doubt.
I’m starting to think fate has a real problem with homebodies.