“Okay,” I rack my brain. My favorite, of course, is Thelma and Louise. That’s mine and Cytha’s and it’s important to me. I shouldn’t have to share that unless I want to. But I can’t think of another movie ever made. My head is blank. “Can I say Mickey too?”
Harmony bounces in the booster seat attached to her chair and nods. Angelo flutters his eyes again.
We go around two more times and I learn everyone’s favorite color—Harmony’s is rainbow to Angelo’s annoyance—as well as everyone’s ideal vacation spot. No shocker when Harmony says Disneyland.
It’s my turn to pull a question. The white strip of paper is neatly folded into fourths. I unfold the strip with Harmony’s anxious eyes watching me. I read aloud before looking the thing over. “Would you rather spend a day with your favorite movie star at home or a day in Paris with your mom?”
The eyes in the room that have been on me the whole time I read now start to burn sores into my skin as if they are laser beams. I rub at my arm, hoping I can rub away the discomfort.
Rodrick’s mouth falls open, but no sound comes out.
Summer blinks a hundred blinks per second. “Esther—”
“I’d pick Paris,” I say, flattening the paper under my palm on the hard surface of the table.
“But you don’t have a mom.” Angelo’s head tilts to the side and his tone is confused—not mean.
“Angelo—” Rodrick growls and I realize I was wrong. Rodrick absolutely could be feared.
“But she doesn’t. You said—”
I plaster on a fake grin. “Shoot,” I say, “I almost forgot. I’m going over to a friend’s tonight, some people I met at the shop. I’ve got to head out.” My plate is nearly empty and I don’t feel bad leaving the few scraps of food that are left. “I’ll text you the address, okay Uncle Rodrick?”
“Um, yeah.” He glances at Summer, but these two are rookies. They have no idea how to raise a teenager—and I’m already raised. “Okay.”
I sit in front of Dominic Lowe’s house. I can hear people at the back of the house and I feel like a creeper sitting there spying, but my anxiety keeps me seated. After a few minutes I force myself from the car. The cool summer air smells like campfire and, though I’m grateful I grabbed a jacket on the way out, I wish I would have taken two minutes to put on long pants. My bare legs are already covered in goose bumps.
I knock on the front door, even though I can hear people in the backyard. A kid with jet black hair and almond brown eyes answers the door. He holds the door with one hand as he looks me over.
“Hey,” I say, playing with the last snap on my linen jacket. “I’m ah—” But I’m not sure what to say, Finn’s friend or James’… neither is accurate.
“Esther?” Ursula peeks around the guy in front of me. “Huh, you came. Finn owes James ten bucks.”
“Hey, Ursula.”
“Move, Dominic,” she says, shoving past him. “Come in.”
“I’m the one who lives here. You remember that, right?” Dominic says, but he steps back, opening the door wider.
Ursula sets a hand to her hip and her glare on Dominic. “Esther, this is Dominic.”
I swallow and step inside, mustering my confidence. I try to appear as if I should be here. I try to be cool and calm, rather than how I feel—like a thousand bouncy balls set loose in a gymnasium. “Thanks for letting me crash.”
His lips part into a grin and he chortles out an airy laugh. “Sure. It’s just you, right? You don’t have a crew of party crashers in that car, right?”
I lift my brows and wet my lips, taking a couple steps into the room until I’m at Ursula’s side. “Just me.”
“This way,” she says, tipping her head.
“Hey, Urs. You’ll save me a seat out there, right?”
She stares at him, one penciled eyebrow up, and shrugs, before she starts her decent to the back of the house.
Dominic’s house is beautiful—with all of the Asian fusion. There are panels of Chinese symbols and bamboo trees on the walls, and a bamboo table that’s painted with a Chinese dragon across the front and down the side. Ursula walks too fast though. I don’t have time to see much more.
The little bit I did see makes me believe there is no middle class in Jackson. You’re wealthy or nothing. Besides the Matthews. They seem pretty middle-class. As if on cue, Finn lifts his head from across the yard and our eyes lock. I blink and want to look away—but for some reason it’s difficult. Until James’ head pops up in front of me blocking Finn out.
“You came!”
“Yeah.” I grin—James makes it easier to do so. “I did.” He can thank family dinner night for that.
“Let me grab you a drink.” James hands me a plastic cup, then leads me to where the campfire burns in a pit in the ground. The patio is tiled with fat gray bricks that surround the fire pit dug into the earth, so that the fire is level with the ground. The bricks circle the pit and spread out like a ripple of water. Chairs surround the red flames, most of them occupied. “Hey, everybody,” he says and a handful of guys and girls stop their chatter to turn their heads. “This is Esther.”
A few murmured hellos and then they all go back to their conversations and laughter. I sit with James and we talk about Assassin’s Alliance and other video games, most of which I haven’t played. He’s easy to talk to and friendly enough. With a rise of smoke, I’m hit with a sense of déjà vu. The nervousness in my gut acts up again, even with James making me feel more comfortable. After what happened at the bookstore, I’ll never experience déjà vu the same again.
But this isn’t how I felt in my dream—I was mad and defensive and everything felt foggy—so I take another swig of my root beer and toss the discomfort aside.
Finn stands at a table where the food and drinks are. I haven’t talked to him yet and, for some reason, I need to.
“I’m gonna grab another drink,” I tell James.
“Sure,” he smiles and turns to the guy on his left. Before I’ve walked two paces he has easily started up another conversation.
With every stride closer to the food table, to Finn, the nerve endings in my body spark a little more. “Hey,” I say, pouring a little more from the two-liter into my cup.
“Esther.” His sandy hair curls at the nape of his neck and his blue eyes watch me. “So, you came.”
“Yeah, well, I needed to escape my house.” It just comes out—it’s true, except for the my house part.
Finn lifts his own drink, guffawing before the liquid reaches his lips. “I get that.”
I lick my lips, tipping my head to the side. “Really?” My tone drips with skepticism. He lives in a bookstore. If he needs space he can walk down two flights of stairs and find an empty aisle.
“Really.” His thick brows lower and he scowls at me. “You may think Marley and Danny are angels, but they’re parents. And like anyone else’s parents, they can be a pain in the a—.”
I sigh, cutting him off and turn and walk away. I have no desire to listen to him bash his parents when they don’t deserve it. My drink sloshes over my cup and lands on the shoes of a girl I haven’t met.