My mind immediately switched to my own answer, the one I’d given at so many other sleepovers. When I was twelve. Henry Crosby.
“When I was thirteen,” Lucy said now, “with Henry Crosby.”
I stared at her, wondering if this was some kind of a joke, as Lucy helped herself to some of the jalape?o-flavored popcorn. “What do you mean?” I asked, feeling a jealous burn in my chest.
“Sorry, Taylor, but it’s Gelsey’s turn next,” said Nora, who had taken it upon herself to administer the rules of truth or dare.
Lucy looked at me and raised her eyebrow. “What?” she asked. “Did you never expect him to go out with anyone else, ever again?”
“No,” I spluttered, wishing I didn’t sound so defensive. “I just… didn’t know.” Lucy tossed back another handful of popcorn. “Did you two date or something?”
Nora and Gelsey were looking between the two of us, riveted, and I had a feeling this drama might turn out to be the highlight of the party.
Lucy shrugged. “For about a month. And we were thirteen. It wasn’t serious.”
I recognized the tone—it was the same one I had used when I’d laughed off my relationship with Henry. It was only in hearing it from someone else that I realized how untrue it was when I said it. Because even if I tried to make light of it, Henry hadn’t just been some guy who didn’t matter, nothing but a story to tell about a random boy I dated when I was younger. He had mattered, and he still mattered—which explained why all of our interactions had been so charged. It was why I was suddenly feeling possessive and incredibly jealous of Lucy, who had already moved past this story and was continuing on with the game.
I was caught up in these thoughts until I heard Gelsey say something about getting to first base, and my attention snapped right back.
“What?” I asked, staring at my sister. She just stared back at me, her freckles showing though Lucy’s application of concealer and foundation. It wasn’t like we’d been close, or that she’d ever told me her secrets, but I still would have thought I would have known if something like this had happened. “When was this?”
“At the dance last year,” Gelsey said with a shrug. “With a couple of different guys.”
“What?” I could hear my voice rising to the level of shrill, and Lucy shot me an alarmed look. I was suddenly regretting ever letting Gelsey put on makeup, and I was already planning in my head the conversation I was going to have with my mom when she got home.
“Just to clarify,” Lucy said, her voice serious. “Remind me. What’s first base again?”
“Holding hands,” said Nora and Gelsey in unison, and I could feel myself relax, hugely relieved that my sister hadn’t turned into some kind of sixth-grade hussy. Lucy bit her lip, and I could see that she was trying not to laugh.
Nora may have picked up on this, because she shot Lucy a withering look. “You know, holding hands is a really big deal,” she said, and Gelsey nodded. “It means something. And you don’t hold hands with just anybody. You only do it with someone you really care about.”
Nora and Gelsey continued on about the importance of hand holding, but I tuned them out when I thought I heard the sound of tires crunching on gravel. Sure enough, a moment later, I heard the sound of the door opening and closing and my dad calling out, “Kids? We’re home!”
My mother did her patented two quick knocks before opening the door, and not actually giving you enough time to say “Come in” or “Stay out”—which, actually, may have been her intention. “Hi,” she said. Her gaze traveled around the room, her eyes widening when she saw the amount of makeup my sister was wearing, and then stopped on Lucy. “Oh, my goodness,” she said. “Lucy, is that you?”
“Hi, Mrs. Edwards,” Lucy said, scrambling to her feet. While my mom and Lucy made small talk, catching up over the last five years, Gelsey tossed Nora the now dog-eared Seventeen, and they bent their heads over it together, Gelsey bursting out laughing at something Nora pointed to. As I watched, I felt myself smile, and realized our work here was done.
After we left the girls with the rest of the snacks, and instructions to make cookies at midnight, Lucy packed up her things and we headed down the corridor, my mother and Lucy still talking.
“So great to see you again,” my mom said as we reached the from door. “And be sure to tell your mom hi for me.”
“I will,” Lucy assured her as my dad came in from the family room, the dog, as usual, under his arm.
“Can this be Miss Marino?” my dad asked, smiling wide, pretending to be shocked. “All grown up?”