I went upstairs to change when Sophie and I finally got home. Zoe had rushed across the street into her house, but there still wasn’t any sign of Milo. Mom and Dad were busying themselves in the kitchen: Mom setting out a platter of cheese and fruit, while Dad struggled to open a bottle of sparkling water. The radio was on in the background, tuned to the soft-rock station Mom always listened to.
I had just kicked off my shoes when a light knock sounded on my door. Before I had a chance to say anything, Sophie opened it and walked into the room. “Hey.” She had already changed out of her slip dress into a Tweety Bird T-shirt and a pair of soft, worn-out jeans that hung low on her hips “Mind if I hang out for a minute?”
“Sure.” My heart pounded as she meandered around, studying the room the way she always did when she came back home. This had been her bedroom before she left and sometimes as I watched her inspect it, I felt nervous, as if I wasn’t holding up my end of some unstated bargain. Now she paused in front of my dresser, staring down at Milo’s little cardboard card taped to the top of it.
“Unhook me?” I turned around so I could back my way to Sophie.
Sophie unhooked the tiny clasp and then turned back to my dresser. She leaned in, moving her lips soundlessly as she recited the words that Milo had written. “Is this your handwriting?” she asked, pointing. “It’s so tiny.”
“No. Milo gave it to me. For Christmas.”
“Milo?” she repeated. “Zoe’s brother?”
I nodded.
Her face lit up. “The one you were talking to after graduation? Oh my God! He’s so cute! Are you guys dating?”
I stepped out of my robe and arranged it on a hanger. “No, we’re not dating. We’re just friends.”
“Well, this is a pretty—what’s the word I’m looking for?—personal gift to give a friend.”
I blushed, glancing briefly out my window. The tiny window seat across the street was empty. “What do you mean?”
“nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands.” I bit the inside of my cheek as Sophie read the quote aloud. For some reason, it didn’t sound quite so magical coming from her. “Are you serious?” Sophie asked. “That’s practically intimate.”
I shrugged. “It’s about hands. What’s intimate about hands?”
“Julia.” Sophie sat down on the bed with her knees open wide. “That is an incredibly intimate line. Think about it. The person who wrote it was obviously deeply in love with someone. People don’t write things like that for just anyone, you know. There’s meaning behind those words. He’s trying to tell you…”
I rolled my eyes, cutting her off. “Okay, so maybe Milo and I sorta, I don’t know, tried something.” (Or whatever taking me to the prom was.) “But it didn’t work. We’re better off as friends.” (If we were even that.) “Believe me.”
“Oh.” Sophie paused. “Why?”
“We just are.” I shook my head. “It’s not really something I want to talk about.”
Sophie got up and walked over to me. She pulled one of my hands out and studied it for a moment, like she was examining it under a microscope. “I never thought of you as having small hands,” she said finally.
I pulled away uncomfortably and headed for the closet. “I don’t. That line’s not literally about me. Milo just likes that poet.”
She paused for a few beats. “That’s e. e. cummings, right?”
“Yeah.” I paused, hanger in my hand. “How’d you know that?”
“I know a lot of things you don’t know that I know.” For a split second, she held my eyes with hers. “Anyway, whatever the situation is between you and Milo, the boy’s got good taste. In girls and poetry.”
I exhaled as I realized the moment had passed, hung up my robe, and began to unbutton the front of my dress.
Sophie looked amused as I shimmied out of it and made a beeline for my dresser, clutching the dress against the front of me. “Can I ask you a question without you getting mad?” she asked, flopping down on top of my bed.
“Maybe.”
“Are you still a virgin?”
I whirled around, still holding the dress against me, and looked at her, aghast. “What?”
She rolled up along her back so her legs stuck up straight above her. “I’m just saying. You look so uncomfortable getting undressed in front of me, and I remember that I used to be like that too, until I started sleeping with Eddie.”
“You and Eddie…?” I let the sentence trail off.
Sophie let her legs fall back down. “Had sex?” she finished. “Well, yeah. You ever get a good look at him? Jesus, I think even the boys in our school wanted to sleep with him.”
I turned back around, yanked open my dresser drawer, and rummaged inside for my favorite jeans. This little bit of unwanted information had just sullied the golden image I still had of Eddie. Sophie watched me intently, still in her upside-down position, as I pulled on a black camisole and a V-neck T-shirt edged with tiny sparkles. I didn’t know what Zoe was planning on wearing to Melissa’s party, but this was about as fancy as I got when it came to going out.
“So, are you then?” she asked. “A virgin, I mean?”