As I walk home, I send a text message to Kat: Movie night is a go … if you still want it to be.
I don’t really want company, but I don’t want to be alone, either. Thirty minutes later Kat flops down on the couch in the trailer, pulling me down with her. “So glad Greg changed his mind.” She leans her head against mine. “Sorry I gave you a hard time about Alex,” she whispers. “I forget that just because you haven’t lived here doesn’t mean you can’t see him for what he really is.”
I wonder which of us—or if either of us—is seeing Alex for what he really is, but with Nick and Connor huddled over the television as they connect the DVD player, I can’t ask. “What are we watching?”
“Only the best movie ever,” Nick says.
He sits down on the other side of Kat and she tilts away from me to him, curling up under his arm with her head against his shoulder. Connor stands awkwardly by himself—there’s not enough room for all four of us on the couch—before sitting on the floor, leaning against the couch between Kat’s legs and mine. His shoulder touches my knee and it sends a warm flutter down my spine. It’s not the same as with Alex, but it’s still nice.
The best movie ever turns out to be the original Star Wars film, the one we were allegedly going to watch the night of the party. I might not be as current on popular culture as other teenagers, but even I’ve seen it. More than once. The scrolling A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away … text has barely crawled up the screen before Kat and Nick are making out as if Connor and I aren’t there.
I slide to the floor beside Connor. “Do they do this a lot?”
“Yeah, pretty much,” he says.
“Did you bring any other movies?”
He shakes his head. “Sorry.”
I stand and walk over to the door, motioning Connor to follow me out to the backyard. “Wait for me at the picnic table, okay?” I say, and he nods. “I’ll be right back.”
Greg and Phoebe have a variety of board games stashed in their entertainment center. I imagine them having friends over for drinks and a few rounds of Apples to Apples. They seem like the kind of people who would do that. I don’t know the rules to most of the games, but at the bottom of the drawer is an old checkerboard and a plastic bag of checkers.
I unfold the board between us and upend the checkers onto the picnic table. Connor smiles. “Prepare to be annihilated,” he says.
I claim a black checker and return the smile. “You wish.”
We don’t talk about what happened at the party. We don’t really say much, except to talk a little smack between moves and gloat over successful jumps. At some point during our first game the weirdness evaporates. We still don’t have much to say to each other, but it feels as if we’ve moved past my shirtless debacle.
We’re nearly finished with the game and my annihilation—as he’d predicted—is impending when Kat and Nick come out of the trailer. Her braid has come half undone, and her lips are puffy and lip-gloss-less.
“Hey! Why’d you leave?” She sits too close to me, the way she always does. She’s a space invader. It doesn’t bother me too much, though.
Connor closes his eyes and makes exaggerating kissing noises through puckered lips, making Kat giggle. I separate the checkers and push the red ones across to his side of the board.
“Another game?” I ask, and he nods.
“Sorry.” She crinkles her nose, and she looks so cute and happy that I feel a rush of affection for her. “We got a little carried away. You’re, um—you’re not mad, are you?”
Kissing Alex in the kitchen when Greg and Phoebe were right down the hall was … irresistible. And not because there was a chance we could get caught, but because not kissing him was inconceivable at the time. So, I don’t know. I guess I understand that Kat and Nick have an inability to keep their lips off each other. If Alex had been at the docks earlier, I can only imagine what we’d be doing right now. Also, I wonder if I’m supposed to be thinking about Alex when I’m playing checkers with Connor. I file that away to consider another time and nudge Kat with my elbow. “Next time, pick a movie we haven’t seen.”
Greg comes outside. If he’s surprised to see everyone after I asked him to say no, he doesn’t mention it. He joins us at the picnic table, asking Kat, Nick, and Connor about their classes and teachers, and reminisces about when he attended Tarpon Springs High. I feel a little left out—and maybe slightly curious about high school—but not enough that I regret my decision not to go.
They stay until it gets too dark to see the checkerboard and Phoebe returns with the kids. Greg gathers up the game while I walk around front with Kat and the boys.
“Thanks for inviting us over.” Kat links her arm through mine. “And next time I promise we’ll watch the movie.”
“Deal.”
She throws her arms around me and even though I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to the demonstrativeness of this family, I hug her back. “I’ll see you at the shop tomorrow after school,” she says.
Connor lingers as Kat slides into the passenger’s seat of Nick’s green sedan. “I was wondering—” Connor runs his hand up into his hair, then pats his bangs down against his forehead. His nervousness is kind of endearing. “Do you want to go to the movies Saturday night? Without Kat and Nick, I mean.”
Alex resurfaces in my mind, but I remind myself that if I don’t warrant an explanation, neither does he. I’m not sure how I feel about Connor. I guess I like him. Enough, at least, that he would be a good choice for my first real date. Enough to want to say yes.
So I do.
The next two days drag and I spend most of my time perched on a stool behind the cash register, studying the Dummies book between customers. I’m struggling to decipher the language of web design, and my inability to understand it, let alone master it, frustrates me. It doesn’t help that we’re always busy, but Theo explains we’re “in season” and that the flow of tourists won’t slow until after Easter.
Wednesday is my day off. I planned to sleep late, but my body has already gotten used to waking up early. As I lie in bed, I look around the Airstream. It’s strange how much I’ve accumulated in such a short time. How easy it is to start sending roots down into my personal soil. A weed of guilt sprouts in my metaphorical garden, making me feel as if I don’t deserve to own fairy lights or long silver necklaces or a finger-sponge bouquet. And when did I start thinking about my own mother as a weed?
I throw off the covers, gather my shower supplies, and head to the house.
“Morning,” Phoebe says, as I come into the kitchen. Tucker sits in his booster chair, his mouth stuffed with pancakes. Joe gives me a bashful grin and calls me Peach. I have a feeling this nickname is going to stick.
Phoebe and I haven’t spoken much since the day I overheard her worrying about my potential for mental illness, but I don’t want to be rude. “Hi.”
“If you’re interested”—she places a plate of cut-up pancakes in front of Joe—“I brought my bike home from my parents’ house. It’s old, but it might make getting around a little easier until you get your license.”
This feels like a gesture. An apology, maybe? If not, a bicycle is still a useful thing to have, and it’s been a very long time since I’ve had one. “Definitely. Thanks.”
She smiles and I wonder if she thinks this makes everything between us good again. Does it? I’m not sure. “I’ll have Greg clean it up when he gets home from work.”
“I can probably do it,” I say. “I kind of want to find a bookstore today.”
“There’s one downtown,” Phoebe says. “It’s really nice, but they don’t have a huge selection like the big store at the mall. I can drive you there if you can’t find what you need in town.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“I’m free all day.”
I nod. “Thanks.”