“You totally are, and I think you know that already. Take some time to study all the different types of flowers this week—I’ll send you home with some flash cards—and on Monday I’ll raise your pay.”
I squeak out my thanks while she flips through the order pages for the wedding. (Shh, Bee, shh. Stop talking.) When she pauses, looking up at me expectantly, I lunge at her with a hug.
She pats my back, laughing. “Get back to work, Bee.”
I let her go, fisting my hands around the hem of my apron, jumping once before heading to the sink. I’m too excited to care that there are a million buckets to wash.
I scrub quickly enough to blister my fingers.
I spill my news at the dinner table. My sisters don’t have ballet tonight, my dad’s off on time, and even Tom is home. But since we’re all here for dinner, everything is loud. Chaos is our middle name. (Erm…something like that.) After a few attempts to get everyone’s attention, I clang my fork onto the edge of my plate a little too hard. It’s like the butterfly effect: My mom stops talking to Tom, Astrid stops singing Les Miserables, and my dad stops flicking Millicent on the forehead while trying to steal her last piece of steak.
I grin, too wide to fit my face, and say, “Tracy’s giving me a promotion. I’m going to design floral arrangements.”
The babble that follows—oh, my gosh, now my ears really hurt, because it’s worse than before. They’re all congratulating me, asking a million questions about things I don’t have answers for. Amidst it all, I see my mom’s face light up as she listens in rapture. She squeezes my hand across Tom, who leans back to let us have a moment. “Bee,” she says, “that’s amazing. I’m so proud of you.”
Those words mean so much to me, I could cry. But I’m distracted by Millicent asking, “Can you make me a flower crown? I’ve always wanted to wear a flower crown!” She slaps Papa’s hand away from her plate again.
I laugh. “Maybe Tracy can teach me that next.”
“Make one for me, too,” Papa says, with all the innocence of a dog who’s eaten too much toilet paper.
Everyone laughs, even though we’re all rolling our eyes at him. Millicent is suddenly indignant about Papa trying to steal her food (again), so Tom uses the moment to lean in close to me. “You up for a little promotion celebration?”
I eye him with suspicion. “Um…”
“You should come to the beach with me tonight. Bonfire with some of the guys.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah.”
I squint at him. “Just…the guys? What about Andrea?”
His smile falters. “She’s not coming.”
I accept this with a shrug and start clearing the table with everyone else. Tom’s on dishwasher duty, but with our combined force, we finish cleaning in record time. While he stacks the last of the clean dishes in the cupboards, I grab my purse, and then we both holler goodbye to our parents as we make our escape.
Outside, the sky is clear and full of a thousand stars, a perfect summer evening, with a slight breeze coming down the hill in our neighborhood. I laugh for no good reason and for every reason all at once. Something about today is just…happy. I’m not even mad when Tom pulls his car onto the main road (going in the opposite direction of the beach) and asks, “Hey, mind if we pick up Levi first?”
Of course, I have to pretend to be mad, as all good little sisters do. I groan, sinking into my seat. “You tricked me into this.”
Tom pats my knee. “You’ve got to get over your fear of…whatever you’re afraid of.”
I don’t deign to answer that, so instead roll down my window and let the night wind wash over me. (WhyamIblushingwhyamIblushingwhyamIblushingwhyamIblushing—) It turns out Levi lives on 10th Ave., about two minutes from my house, and he’s already waiting for us. He slides into the back seat and slaps Tom on the shoulder. “Great timing, man, my mom’s baking again and—”
He sees me.
I smile.
He grins. It cracks his face in the most adorable way. “Bee! I was expecting Andy.”
The way he says it--like he’d rather see me than Andy--makes me far happier than I expected. “Nope, just boring old me.”
“Never boring.” Levi gives Tom a sidelong look. “Where’s Andy?”
Tom sighs and pulls out onto the road. “Not here.” Levi and I exchange what (I think) could be called a “knowing” look, and—fine, I’ll admit that it thrills me.
Eventually, Tom turns up the music, and we ride in silence for a few minutes. I lean with my left elbow on the console, my head tipped back, my eyes closed as I sing along softly. Then I feel someone tapping my arm. It’s Levi, straining against his seatbelt to get closer to me, and he’s pointing up.
The open moon roof displays a wide variety of stars. Out here on the highway, there are no streetlights or neighborhoods—it’s just a straight shot around the mountain, on the side of the cliff over the reservoir, and then through the hills—so it’s very dark and quiet. I look up with Levi, our heads semi-close, and smile.
He asks, “Do you know the stars?”
“Not really.”
“Me, neither.”
“It’s a shame,” I sigh.
“I can be rather stupid.”
Embarrassed, I hurry to say, “That’s not what I meant.”
He laughs, and I laugh, and find that it is incredibly difficult to keep my eyes on the stars when Levi’s sitting next to me.
“I meant,” I add, “that I wish one of us did.”
“Yeah.”
I adjust in my seat, to make the conversation easier. “Stars are almost…like…moments. To me.” As soon as these words come out of my mouth, I start to feel stupid. Do I sound stupid? I don’t know where this is coming from; I’ve never consciously thought about it before. It’s always been a thought at the back of my mind, like I like chocolate ice cream, and I would marry Matt Smith if he asked me, and My mother wants me to go to college.
Somehow, The stars are like moments to me fits on this list. “It’s like…they’re twinkling and staring us right in the face, but we have to be brave enough to grab hold of them. You know?”
Levi looks at me, then sits back in his seat, still looking, still studying. Like he’s pondering. Somehow, this puts my nerves to rest.
“You’re right,” he says, finally. “You’re absolutely right.”
Chapter 9
The rest of my night is split into tiny moments. Or stars, if you will.
I see Tom and Michael, going into the dark water in nothing but their underwear. (I’d rather stab myself in the eye with a hot poker than see their soggy asses again.)
I see myself, like an out of body experience, standing by Keagan, not doing the things I’ve dared myself to do.
I see Levi chatting with that girl Elle again, although this time they don’t stand so close, and she’s wearing a Hannibal t-shirt that matches her hair. (I think I’d like to meet her.)
I see Keagan stoking the bonfire to keep it going, warming his hands over the flames. His long, wavy hair casts a shadow over his face.
I see Levi, rolling up his jeans and standing with bare feet in the small waves. His sweater is yellow, like the first time I saw him, and I feel a pulse of boldness.
I see the tide, slowly receding, being pulled by the moon.
I see the moon.