brought it over. He’s got a thing for ’80s movies. We put it on in your honor, but Livie’s been skipping around to her favorite parts.”
It was on one of my favorite parts too: where Ferris leaves Sloane at the end to make his mad dash through people’s backyards in order to beat his parents home. As movie Sloane watches him go, she says, “He’s gonna marry me.” That scene was the real reason I’d picked the name Sloane, because I’d been jealous of that Sloane’s certainty about the future, or at least her ability to even plan for the future. That’s what I wanted as Sloane.
Livie sighed and glanced up at me. “I forgot how good this movie is.”
I studied her as she turned back to the TV. Mark actually said yes to the senior trip. I had the chance to go somewhere by myself for two glorious days and all I needed was a roommate. I knew it wasn’t the smartest idea, but neither was standing in the middle of Jason’s house and nothing bad had happened yet. “I talked to my dad and I’m in for the senior trip.”
Livie squealed and jumped up, spinning me around in a giant hug.
“You’re making my dizzy!”
Livie pulled back and clapped. “We’re going to have so much fun!”
My plastered-on grin mirrored her own. I was definitely not used to this much girl time. Two days of freedom better be worth this. I stepped away from Livie and nodded at the plain white T-shirts and permanent markers scattered across the coffee table. “So what’s the plan for the shirts?”
Sawyer fell into the couch with a sigh. “We have no idea. We’ve been trying to come up with something related to our double first names for weeks, but we can’t think of anything good.”
“Just do whatever,” Livie said as she reclaimed her spot in the beanbag chair and pulled out her phone. “It’s not that big a deal.”
As I walked behind her on my way to the couch, I caught sight of a photo Livie had open on her phone: sunset over the brightest blue water I’d ever seen. The sun was a fiery ball at the edge of the sky, turning the clouds around it amazing shades of orange and pink and purple. “That picture’s beautiful.”
Livie glanced up. “Oh, thanks.”
“Where is it?”
“Um, nowhere, really. Not like this.” She tapped the screen and frowned. “I’ve been editing it, trying to make the colors really pop, but I can’t get it right.” Her eyes narrowed at something I couldn’t see. “I like to get creative with reality.”
I sat next to Sawyer on the couch and smoothed out a T-shirt. If Livie could be creative, so could I. “What if we do something that’s not related to first names?”
Jason pulled a beanbag chair to the edge of the coffee table and sat. “Like what?”
I eyed Sawyer. “Superheroes.”
His eyebrows furrowed. “Superheroes?”
“Yeah. I mean, I got run into in the hall today because someone here supposedly has superhero muscles.”
Livie snorted.
Sawyer flexed his arm, which was surprisingly muscular for such a skinny guy. “There’s no supposedly about it.” He leaned closer to me. “Wanna touch it?”
I pushed his arm away with one finger. “Why don’t you use that muscle to draw a superhero symbol?”
Jason tapped a marker on the coffee table. His eyes locked on mine and that half smile appeared.
Livie plopped onto the couch next to me, her phone nowhere in sight for once. “I’m totally being Black Widow.”
“Are Superman and Supergirl a thing?” Sawyer shifted so his leg was pressed against mine. “Because that’s who we should be.”
I leaned in and whispered in his ear, “I’m pretty sure Superman and Supergirl are cousins.”
He chuckled. “Ooh, naughty.”
Livie gave me an amused smile, one eyebrow slightly raised in question. My cheeks grew hot. I hadn’t been trying to flirt—just to give a smartass answer like I’d give to Mark at home—but maybe that’s how it looked. “Um, where’s the bathroom?”
Livie pointed over her shoulder. “Down that hall, first door on your right.”
“Don’t try the door on the left,” Sawyer warned. “It’s like the Room of Requirement or platform nine and three-quarters or something else that requires magical blood to enter.”
I paused at the entrance to the hall, a slight smile on my lips. “Should I have brought my wand?”
Sawyer grinned. “Nope. The Door That Must Not Be Opened is wand-proof.”
“What if I had the special platform nine and three-quarters ticket? Could I walk through it?”
“Even that wouldn’t work.” Sawyer snatched a marker out of Livie’s hand. “It’s J’s room, which is strictly off-limits to anyone but him.”
I opened my mouth but Livie spoke first. “Don’t ask. Neither of us has ever been inside. It’s a weird Jason thing, like the bets.”
I peeked at Jason, who was studying a blank T-shirt and biting the inside of his cheek. It’s not weird, it’s sweet.
“But if you come back over here,” Sawyer drawled, “I’ll show you something that’s nine and three-quarters.”
“Gross!” Livie smacked him on the back of his head. “That’s no way to talk to someone you just met. And physically impossible.”
“Fine,” he grunted. “Would it be better if I said, ‘Come back over, I need help whomping my willow.’”
“Oh my God!” I exclaimed. “You did not just turn Harry Potter into something dirty!”
“Oh, come on!” Sawyer responded. “You can come back. I promise I’ll be gentle when I Slytherin.”
My eyes grew wide.
“My name may not be Luna, but I sure can Lovegood.”
I clamped my hands over my ears. “Stop! You’re ruining one of my favorite book series!”
I looked at Jason. His eyes were gleaming. Two, three, four, five, he mouthed in quick succession. I win.
I groaned, but couldn’t help laughing as I turned into the hall. My smile grew even larger when I realized it was lined with framed photographs.
There were some I didn’t recognize, but many more I did. Five-year-old Jason on Christmas morning straddling a bike that matched the one I’d found under my tree. Seven-year-old Jason with a wide front-teeth-missing smile and a dripping ice cream cone. Ten-year-old Jason sitting in the lifeguard chair at sunset, laughing that giant childhood laugh of his I hadn’t seen here yet. I’d been there for all of them—I’d even taken the lifeguard picture myself. So when I came to a closed door on the left side of the hall that had to be Jason’s room, I didn’t care that I couldn’t see what it looked like. I knew Jason. I didn’t need to see inside to find out who he was now. I grinned and whirled around to find the bathroom.
Instead, I found myself staring at a photo of two women at the beach. And not just any beach. Home. Jason’s mom’s long brown hair was blowing in the breeze and she had her arm around a beautiful woman with dirty-blond chin-length hair, a million freckles and a thin scar through her left eyebrow. They were sitting on colorful beach towels, wearing the matching purple bathing suits their kids had given them for Mother’s Day the month before. The sides of their heads were resting together and their smiles were as bright as the sun shining down on them. I reached up and touched the blonde’s face with a fingertip as tears welled in my eyes. I hadn’t seen my mom in almost six years.