But maybe she was right to be worried. Nothing we’d done had ever cost as much before, and if we did all the same things we always did … maybe we wouldn’t make it.
My thoughts were interrupted by the pound of little-kid feet, and when I looked up, Cadence had appeared, dragging August behind her. I waved when he caught my eye.
“Sophie, what should we read that’s good?” Cadence said.
“They’re all good.”
“Especially good.”
I smiled, setting aside the College Collective handbook (would Mel endorse spelling it Kollege Kollective, or was it no longer cute when higher education was concerned?) and getting to my feet. As I helped Cadence pick out a few books, I heard a baby-pitched squeal from near the front desk and saw Heather going after Harper, who hadn’t quite mastered her center of gravity yet, having only just begun to take on walking. Heather scooped her up and waved when she saw me. She gestured over to the general-fiction shelves and then retreated with Harper in her arms.
“Let’s read, Uncle August,” Cadence said after she had made her selections, tugging on August’s arm until he sank into a nearby yellow beanbag chair. She shoved a book in his hands and squashed in next to him.
They read, and I flipped back open to JUNIOR YEAR, JUNE–AUGUST. But really I was listening in on the random voices August was giving the characters, after Cadence complained that there wasn’t enough variation between them.
“The elephant can’t sound the same as the pig. They should sound different.”
August gave the pig a super deep voice, and the elephant an indeterminable accent.
They had read through a few by the time Heather came over.
“Okay, let’s pick out the ones we want to take home,” she said, gesturing Cadence up and following her back to one of the low shelves crammed with picture books.
August watched them for a moment from the beanbag chair, and then stood, stretched, and moved to look at a shelf nearer to me.
“So where was the elephant supposed to be from?” I said, because I was pretty sure he wasn’t interested in browsing picture books.
“Scotland,” he said, like it was obvious, and when I raised an eyebrow, “Scotland adjacent?”
I smiled, first at him and then down at the kids on the College Collective cover. I knew their names from the photo caption inside—Jeff, Jackie, Sonja, Han, and Fadia enjoy time out on the quad. I liked to imagine that Jeff and Jackie had dated briefly, but she left him for Sonja. The smile she and Sonja were sharing was just too knowing.
This didn’t seem like a solid avenue of conversation with August. At least not yet.
(I had mentioned it to Brit once, and she took one look and said, Oh yeah, Jackie and Sonja have totally boned down.)
“You disappeared the other night,” I said after a pause. “You should’ve left a note.”
“Why?”
“So I would know if you were really gone or not. I thought you might have been waiting to jump out at me.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because it’s funny. Well, it’s not funny if you’re the person being jumped at, but it’s funny if you’re the person doing the jumping.”
“You speak from experience?”
“I used to pull that shit on my sister all the time when we were kids. Hiding in closets, or under the bed so I could reach out for her foot, like in a horror movie.”
“I’ve never done that.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing,” I said. “Anyway, if you’d left a note, I would’ve known when you were coming back.” He was looking at me strangely. “Not that I was, like. Anticipating. Your return.” I swallowed. “It’s just polite.”
He nodded. “Next time, I’ll leave a note.”
“Good.” I liked the idea of there being a next time.
His lips twitched, eyes shining. “‘Dear Sophie, mind your own business. Fondest wishes, August.’”
“Rude.”
“I said ‘fondest wishes.’”
I fought a smile.
I thought of Heather’s words the other night—Maybe you could help ease him in here a little bit, introduce him to some people?
“So,” I said. “This girl from school, Tegan Wendall? She’s having this thing tonight and a bunch of people are going, so, uh, if you wanted to come … you know. You could.”
“You’re asking me to a party?”
“Yeah.” But that felt too much like a declaration. “I mean, no. But yes. I’m inviting you, but it’s not like, with me, it’s just … if you want to meet new people or whatever.”
For a moment I’d swear August’s face said yes, but then his mouth said: “I probably shouldn’t. But thanks.”
My mouth replied: “Cool, yeah, maybe next time,” but I’m not exactly sure how my face responded. August wouldn’t know either, though, because he had already turned toward Cadence, who had returned with a large stack of books in her arms. Heather had corralled Harper and was heading toward the checkout desk.
“See you around, Soph!” Heather called over one shoulder, as Cadence beamed up at August.
“I got more to take home!” she said.
August reached for them.
“I can do it!” She turned away quickly, tightening her arms around the books.
“You’re right, that’s way too big a stack for me anyway,” he said to Cadence, and then to me: “See you later.”
“Fondest wishes!” I called.
He grinned, quick and bright, and then they were heading away.
five
“Those shoes are stupid,” Brit said, gesturing to Flora’s high-heeled sandals. “You’re gonna regret it.”
“I will not. I look cute.”
“We’re literally biking there. At least wear sneakers to ride.”
“I’m gonna sit on Sophie’s handlebars.”
“You know Sophie has terrible balance and you’re gonna end up on my handlebars, and I’m not letting you on my handlebars when you can obviously bike yourself with the right fricking shoes on. Sophie tell her—Where are you going?”
I was already crossing the lawn. “To Heather’s.”
“Why? She won’t drive us.”
“To see if August wants to come.”
“I thought he told you no.”
Technically, it was an I probably shouldn’t. I didn’t know how to parse that exactly, but I figured it was worth one more shot, just in case. I told Heather I would introduce him to people. This was due diligence.
“Just gimme a minute,” I said, cutting across the neighboring yard to the Conlins’ house.
Brit huffed and set her bike down to follow. Flora carefully picked her way after us, in her platform sandals and short shorts—the kind that were more ass than short, according to Brit.
“This is Kyle’s secret brother?” Flora asked.
“He’s not a secret brother,” I hissed.
“When you have a brother no one knows about, that’s a secret brother,” Brit said.
I could see the TV on through the front window. I stepped up to the door and knocked.
“No one say ‘secret brother.’”
Shepherd barked from inside, followed by the sound of some shuffling.
“Clandestine sibling,” Brit whispered, before the door swung open.
“Hey, girls.” Heather had Harper in her arms, who was squirming to get away from her.
“Hey. We’re going to Tegan’s, and I was wondering if August wanted to come.”
Heather’s face lit up. “Yes! He does!”
“Really? ’Cause he told Sophie he didn’t.” Brit wasn’t much for second chances.
“He’ll be right out.”
August shuffled out a few moments later.
“Have fun! Back by curfew!” Heather called, and shut the door definitively.
We all stood for a moment. It wasn’t uncomfortable per se. But it wasn’t super comfortable either.
“This is Brit and Flora,” I said to August, and “This is August,” to them.
“Nice to meet you,” Flora said.
“That’s what I’ve heard,” he replied, and my eyes snapped toward him.
“That was my joke! I said that when we met!”
“Did you?” His face was totally stoic, but there was something alight in his eyes.
“I did.”
“Oh. So you own the copyright?”
“Yes. That shit is in the Library of Congress.”
He smiled, and it was a moment before I realized that Flora and Brit were both staring at us.
“Uh, so—”
“You got a bike?” Brit said.
“No.” August looked back at the house. “Maybe Kyle—”
“You can borrow mine!” Flora exclaimed. “I’ll ride on the handlebars.”
* * *
Tegan Wendall’s house was just a little ways outside of town, off 49. It was nice—surrounded by trees, set back a bit with a big yard.
We left our bikes propped against the garage and walked toward the back, where there was a fire pit with some plastic lawn chairs arranged around it. A crowd had already formed.
It was almost entirely people from band—Tegan was on the color guard—and I knew basically everyone, but we immediately zeroed in on one person in particular.
Dashiell Cunningham was standing a little apart from the groups that had formed, clutching a plastic cup. To most, he would appear disinterested in his surroundings, but I could see the tightness around his mouth, which eased immediately when Brit ran up and pushed him playfully with both hands.