“Both yous are safe. That’s how it ends. Next time you’re awake in the dark, just tell the first you to reach longer. Harder. The second you’s gonna save her. And then wake up Grant. He’ll distract you. Or else he’ll just bring you watermel—” Leo sprouted a boyish grin that tempered Joey’s irritation at his words, transporting her back to the little boy who was once her best friend, who adventured with her each summer.

As Leo went over to talk to Lucas, Joey wedged her feet back into her sandals, thinking his watermelon dig was unfair. Grant was so much more than a guy who could be reduced to some sort of watermelon bellboy.

She checked her phone, and there it was. A staid text by Grant standards, but he would be home later. That he’d called it home was a good sign.

Joey went to the bike. Her mind swished with the day. She thought about the boy named Arthur and imagined deserts. She thought about Grant coming home, and what he would say.

But mostly she thought about what her answer would be if Grant were to ask her: Who would you choose, Joey? The first you or the other you?

Chapter Twenty-Four

Joey

Florida
2019

Bea greeted Joey in the foyer. “Guess what? The cake toppers just arrived.”

Joey let her fringed purse slide to her parents’ bleached Persian rug. “Is that really how you’re gonna greet me, Mom?” she asked in a low voice. “By pretending like nothing has happened?”

Her mother sighed. “I’m not pretending, Joey. I just don’t know what to say. I’ve called you so many times, and you haven’t called me back. I’m sorry for everything. I cried all day after you left.”

“You cried all day. Okay. And now I’m just supposed to get over it?”

“I’ll do anything to make it better. Just tell me what I can do.”

“I guess there’s really nothing you can do.” Joey sighed. “Is Dad home? I saw his car.”

Her mother motioned her head nervously toward the kitchen. “Yeah. He’s in there.”

Joey nodded. She took a deep breath. “So I didn’t know you ordered cake toppers.”

“I did.” Her mother smiled, visibly relieved they could talk normally again. She rummaged through a box on the floor. Styrofoam packing peanuts erupted like confetti.

As if the packing peanuts were capable of generating noise, Joey’s father yelled from the kitchen, “Bea, neatly, please!”

“He has a video camera on me, I swear.” Bea’s feet crunched on the peanuts. “Ah! Here we go.” She unveiled two items. She ripped off their bubble wrap covers and tossed them down to join the party of green peanuts. “Oh, they came out so good!”