โItโs already midnight when I trudge back to my room.โ
Abigail is waiting for me. Sheโs practically in the same position, in the same spot as when I left her, and Iโm struck by an overwhelming sense of dรฉjร vu. Itโs as if time has stopped, yet so much has happened. I can still feel the ghost of Juliusโs hands around mine.
โAre you . . . still mad at me?โ she asks.
I sit down and pat for her to sit as well. Am I mad? I search myself for any remnants of anger, but thereโs nothing. I donโt want to argue with her. I just want to be around my best friend.
โThis is what my mom always does when sheโs about to lecture me,โ she mumbles.
โIโm not going to lecture you,โ I say. โI only have a few questions.โ Her eyes widen in horror. โThatโsย alsoย exactly what she says.โ
โI mean it. Iโm genuinely curious . . . Why did you do it?โ I ask. Itโs the one thing I canโt let go of, canโt fully wrap my mind around. โWhat was going through your head?โ
She hugs her knees to her chest. I canโt be sure what Iโm waiting for her to say, but itโs certainly not: โYou know how I used to pour boiling water into plastic bottles before you stopped me and told me it could release
dangerous chemical stuff?โ โUh, yeah,โ I reply.
โOr how I once almost touched mercury, thinking it was just a funny- looking form of silver?โ
โYes.โ
โOr that time I convinced myself I could write a five-thousand-word essay during our lunch break?โ
I shudder just recalling it. I had nearly broken out into stress hives for her. โDefinitely.โ
โYeah, well, Iโve never really been smart-smart or particularly talented. Iโve always known that. I canโt even imagine what itโsย likeย to come in first in a race or be praised by teachers. My kindergarten teacher literally called my parents to the school to tell them I wasnโt making as much progress as
everyone else.โ She lets out a quiet laugh. โAnd guess what my parents did?
They called the teacher narrow-minded and judgmental and stormed out of the office, and then they picked me up early and took me to get strawberry ice cream. They never made me feel insecure. But there are times when I still want to feel . . .ย useful. Needed, the way everyone needs you. And I mostly get that feeling when Iโm giving advice to people or helping them work out the things going on in their lives. Does that make even a little bit of sense?โ
โKind of,โ I say.
Abigail rests her chin on top of her knees, her platinum hair falling around her. โSo Iโm being totally honest when I say that I wanted to help you, and I thought Iย wasย helping you. I didnโt mean to go so far. I wonโt ever meddle again, I promise,โ she says. โBut Iโll also understand if youโre still angry and want to drop me or violently smash a cake in my faceโโ
โI assure you, Iโve never once been tempted to smash a cake in somebodyโs face,โ I snort. โItโs a tremendous waste of food.โ
She pauses, a faint, tentative smile touching her lips.
โAnd I assure you that Iโm not going to drop you,โ I tell her, giving her a light shove. โEven if I were mad at you, you can be mad at someone and still love them.โ
โYou mean it? Weโre stillโ Weโre cool?โ
I nod. Raise my eyebrows. โWho else am I supposed to talk to when Iโve just kissed someone in the corridor during a rainstorm?โ
I watch the understanding sink in. Her jaw unhinges. Her eyes light up.
She grabs my hand, squeezing hard. โYou donโt mean . . . You andโโ
I can only nod again, unable to help the grin spreading over my face.
โHoly shit,โ she yelps, and all the tension between us thaws as she
springs up fully on the bed, and itโs like every sleepover weโve ever had, giggling into our pillows and whispering with the lights out. โOkay, you have to tell meย everything. Donโt spare any detailsโactually, no, you can
spare certain details, but, like, was it good? Was he good? Are you together now?โ
Iโm laughing so hard my stomach hurts, and even though I know weโll both be exhausted tomorrow, we stay up talking until four in the morning, and when I finally do fall asleep, I feel lighter than I have in years.
โข โข โข
โHow was your school trip?โ Mom asks from behind the bakery counter. I had braced myself for a mess when I first walked in, imagining burnt bread and invalid receipts and spilled jam and a thousand other mini disasters to sort through after my time away. But everything is in perfect order. The
SORRY, WE ARE CLOSEDย sign has already been hung up on the front door, and most of the shelves have been cleared.
I set my bag down on the spotless floor, then seat myself at an empty
table. My arms are still sore from the camp activities, and my shirt is all wrinkled, and my left shoe is damp from when Iโd accidentally stepped into a puddle on my way to the bus, but I feel a smile drift up to my face, like itโs the most natural thing in the world. Like I canโt think of a single reason why Iย shouldnโtย be smiling, why I havenโt been doing it more my whole life. โGood. Great, actually.โ
She assesses me for a few beats, her eyes warm. โYou look very happy.โ โSo do you,โ I say in surprise, studying her too. Itโs hard to place what,
exactly, is different, only that it is. Maybe itโs something about the evening light streaming in through the windows and softening her features, or the relaxed line of her shoulders. Or just how still she is. In all my memories of her, sheโs moving around, restless, rushing to get from one place to another.
โBecause you are,โ she says. โAlso, Max has good news. Heโs been waiting for you to get back to tell you himself.โ
I crane my neck. โGood news?โ
The second the words leave my lips, Max pops out from the back room. โSurprise,โ he calls, beaming wide.
Iโm instantly wary. โIs this one of those jokes where you say youโre the surprise because your presence itself is a gift?โ
โNo, though Iโm very flattered you think so,โ Max says, pulling out the chair opposite me with a drawn-out scraping sound. โI have something better than that.โ He pauses dramatically and clears his throat. โYou might want to be seated for this.โ
โIโm already seated.โ
โItโs a figure of speech,โ he says, annoyed. โCooperate, please.โ โAiya, just hurry up and tell her, Max,โ my mom urges, stepping out
from behind the counter to join us. She even takes her work apron off, which is how I know that whateverโs coming is a big deal. Iโve seen her fall asleep with that thing on.
โOkay. So basically, a scout for the Huntersโyes,ย the Huntersโhas been coming to a few of my games and . . . in short, theyโre interested in recruiting me. Like, super interested. Like, if this were a marriage, theyโre already shopping around for the ring. And itโs occurring to me as I speak that thatโs a weird analogy, but, like, whatever, because theyโreย interested.โ
My jaw drops. โIโ Oh my god.โ Itโs all I can think to say. โAre youโ are you for real?โ
He grins at me. โObviously.โ
Iโm still fumbling around for proper words to express how elated I am, how relieved, how shocked, so I slap his arm instead.
โHey!โ he yelps. โWhy are you hitting meโโ
โWhenย wasย this? Why didnโt you say anything sooner?โ
โI mean, itโs kind of been a developing situation for the past few months, and I didnโt want to get your hopes up too quickly in case you were disappointed . . .โ
Past few months.ย Iโm aware that Iโm gaping, but I canโt help it. This entire time Iโve been worried sick about him and his future, desperate to
solve every problem to come up, because I thought that he wasnโt worried at all.ย That he simply didnโt care enough. But heโs okayโfar better than okay. And this bakery is okay too. And, somehow, so is my mom, whoโs smiling at both of us, her eyes bright.
And I have to wonder when things changed. Or if itโs been like this for years, but I was buried too deep in my own guilt to look up and see for myself that everything is really, truly fine.
My chest aches at the thought, joy and sadness mingling together. โIโm happy for you,โ I tell Max. โGenuinely.โ
He wrinkles his nose, but he also bumps my shoulder. Itโs what we used to do when we were on the same team in basketball and won a game against our dad. And Iโve missed that. Not just our dad, but being on Maxโs team. โDonโt you dare go all sappy on me,โ he warns. โSave it for when I break a world record.โ
โFine. Then Iโll save you the speech and go do something productive.โ I look around for a cloth. โHave all the tables been wiped already? Because I canโโ
โNo,โ Mom says.
โNo?โ I repeat, confused.
โYou just got back,โ she says. โRest. Relax. Do whatever you want to do.โ
I hesitate. โAre you sure?โ โGo,โ she insists.
Iโm sorry.ย The words rise instinctively to my lips, but I push them down, seal them shut with the part of me that believes everyone elseโs
happiness should come at the expense of my own. Try something different for once. โThank you,โ I say quietly. It feels foreign. Strange. Yet it tastes sweet on my tongue, like forgiveness, like the rising spring air, like the lingering scent of strawberry shortcakes.
Like a beginning.
โข โข โข
On the bus ride home, I take the window seat and compose a brand-new email:
Julius,
Iโm writing this to inform you that youโre the most infuriating person Iโve ever met. You, with your smug, razor-sharp smiles, your mocking eyes, your arrogance, and your vanity. Your voice when you call my name, your hands when they wrap around mine. Iโm not so familiar with vicesโI like to think I have none, but if anything were to count, you would be my only one. It must be an addiction or an obsession. I have never known anybody as completely as I know you, and yet I
still want to sit next to you, draw close to you, closer. I want you to tell me every story, want to listen to you speak until the night sinks in the sky and the stars fade out. I want you to hold me like a grudge, keep me like a promise, haunt me like a ghost. Youโre so beautiful it enrages me.
Maybe youโre expecting an apology after all this time, so Iโll cut to the chase:
Itโs not coming. I apologize far too muchโIโm working on it, I promiseโbut Iโm not sorry for those emails.
You know that evening when I stumbled across your conversation with your brother? All right, not stumbledโfollowed. Thatโs beside the point. Afterward, I could track the hurt in your eyes, and everything in me burned. Iโm not sure if I expressed myself clearly enough then, if Iโd convinced you enough. If not, then let me establish for now and forever that you will never be second. You will never be inadequate. You will never be anything but good.
Because you care how your parents see you. Because you will talk about anything except the things that actually hurt you. Because you never commit to something if you canโt see it through to the end. Because you are brutally hard on yourself, and you have never gone easy on me in a competition or test. Because you challenge me, you distract me when my brain is being cruel, you sharpen my edges when the world tries to wear them down. Because every time I tired during
class, I would catch your eye across the room, and remember why I needed to keep going.
Since Iโve decided to peel back my pride for the length of this email, let me tell you a little secret. When I was fourteen, I would stare up at my bedroom walls and wonder what it was like to fall in love. Most of my inspiration came from songs and the movies. But still, I imagined it. What it would be like to be someone who had somebody else. I would imagine tenderness. The concept of infinity. Of endless patience. Imagine them chasing after me even when I run. Cradling my sorrows in the palm of their hands. Imagine them caring, trying to understand.
And now thereโs you. This whole time, itโs been you, and I didnโt even realize. In retrospect, it makes sense, doesnโt it? In order to beat the enemy, you have to understand them intimately. You have to observe them, learn their weaknesses, memorize their every word, track their progress, predict their next move. For ten years I thought I was preparing to destroy you, when really I was preparing to love you.
All of which is to say I really hope this finds you. And I hope you find me too.
Sadie
I receive his reply within ten minutes. Itโs only two sentences:
You were right, Sadie Wen. I am completely, helplessly obsessed with you. Love,
Julius