Sally nods with certainty.
'I might consider it,' Gillian admits. 'For a while. As long as there are no commitments.'
'You'll move in with him,' Sally assures her.
'You're probably just saying all this because you want to get rid of me.'
'I wouldn't be getting rid of you. You'd be three blocks away. If I wanted to get rid of you, I'd tell you to go back to Arizona.'
A circle of white moths has gathered around the porch light. Their wings are so heavy and damp the moths seem to be flying in slow motion. They're as white as the moon, and when they fly off, suddenly, they leave a powdery white trail in the air.
'East of the Mississippi.' Gillian runs her hand through her hair. 'Yikes.'
Sally stretches out flat in the lawn chair and looks into the sky. 'Actually,' she says, 'I'm glad you're here.'
They both always wished for the same thing when they were sitting on the roof of the aunts' house on those hot, lonely nights. Sometime in the future, when they were both all grown up, they wanted to look up at the stars and not be afraid. This is the night they had wished for. This is that future, right now. And they can stay out as long as they want to, they can remain on the lawn until every star has faded, and still be there to watch the perfect blue sky at noon.
Levitation
Always keep mint on your windowsill in August, to ensure that buzzing flies will stay outside, where they belong. Don't think the summer is over, even when roses droop and turn brown and the stars shift position in the sky. Never presume August is a safe or reliable time of the year. It is the season of reversals, when the birds no longer sing in the morning and the evenings are made up of equal parts golden light and black clouds. The rock-solid and the tenuous can easily exchange places until everything you know can be questioned and put into doubt.
On especially hot days, when you'd like to murder whoever crosses you, or at least give him a good slap, drink lemonade instead. Go out and buy a first-rate ceiling fan. Make certain never to step on one of the crickets that may have taken refuge in a dark corner of your living room, or your luck will change for the worse. Avoid men who call you Baby, and women who have no friends, and dogs that scratch at their bellies and refuse to lie down at your feet. Wear dark glasses; bathe with lavender oil and cool, fresh water. Seek shelter from the sun at noon.
It is Gideon Barnes's intention to ignore August completely and sleep for four weeks, refusing to wake up until September, when life is settled and school has already begun. But less than a week into this difficult month, his mother informs him that she's getting married, to some guy Gideon has been only dimly aware of.
They'll be moving several miles down the Turnpike, which means that Gideon will be going to a new school, along with the three new siblings he'll meet at a dinner his mother is giving next weekend. Afraid of what her son's reaction might be, Jeannie Barnes has put this announcement off for some time, but now that she's told him, Gideon only nods. He thinks it over while his mother nervously waits for a response, and finally he says, 'Great, Mom. I'm happy for you.'
Jeannie Barnes can't believe she's heard correctly, but she doesn't have time to ask Gideon to repeat himself, because he ducks into his room and thirty seconds later he's gone. He's out of there, pronto, just as he's going to be in five years, only then it will be for real. Then he'll be at Berkeley or UCLA, instead of racing down the Turnpike, desperate to be gone. He's driven by instinct; there's no need to think, because inside he knows where he wants to be. He arrives at Kylie's house less than ten minutes later, drenched with sweat, and finds her sitting on an old Indian bedspread under the crab apple tree, drinking a glass of iced tea. They haven't seen each other since Kylie's birthday, yet when Gideon looks at her she is unbelievably familiar. The arch of her neck, her shoulders, her lips, the shape of her hands, Gideon sees all this and his throat goes dry. He must be an idiot to feel this way, but there's nothing he can do. He doesn't even know if he can manage to speak.
It is so hot the birds aren't flying, so humid not a single bee can rise into the air. Kylie is startled to see Gideon; the ice cube she's been crunching on drops out of her mouth and slides down her knee. She pays no attention to it. She doesn't notice the plane flying above, or the caterpillar making its way across the bedspread, or the fact that her skin feels even hotter than it did a minute ago.
'Let's see how fast I can put you in check,' Gideon says. He has his chessboard with him, the old wooden one his father gave him on his eighth birthday.
Kylie bites down on her lip, considering. 'Ten bucks to the winner,' she says.
'Sure.' Gideon grins. He has shaved his head again, and his scalp is as smooth as a stone. 'I could use the cash.'
Gideon flops down on the grass beside Kylie, but he can't quite bring himself to look at her. She may think this is just a game they're about to play, but it's much more. If Kylie doesn't go for the jugular, if she doesn't pull out all her best moves, he'll know they're not friends anymore. He doesn't want it to be that way, but if they can't be their true selves with each other, they might as well walk away now.
This sort of test can make a person nervous, and it's not until Kylie is considering her third move that Gideon has the guts to look at her. Her hair isn't as blond as it was. Maybe she dyed it, or maybe the blond stuff washed out; it's a pretty color now, like honey.
'Looking at something?' Kylie says when she catches him staring.
'Die,' Gideon says, and he moves his bishop.
He takes her glass of iced tea and gulps some of it down, the way he used to do when they were friends.
'My sentiments exactly,' Kylie says right back.
She has a big smile on her face and her chipped tooth shows. She knows what he's thinking, but then, who wouldn't? He's about as transparent as a piece of glass. He wants it all to be the same and all to have changed. Well, who doesn't? The difference between him and Kylie is that she already knows they can't have it both ways, whereas Gideon still hasn't a clue.
'I missed you.' Kylie's voice is offhand.
'Yeah, right.' When Gideon looks up he sees that she's staring at him. Quickly, he shifts his gaze to the place where the lilacs used to grow. There are only some twiggy-looking things with black bark. On each twig is a row of tiny thorns so sharp even the ants don't dare to come near.
'What the hell happened to your yard?' Gideon asks.
Kylie looks over at the branches. They're growing so quickly they'll reach the height of a good-sized apple tree before long. But for now they seem harmless, just wispy shoots of brambles. It's so easy to ignore what grows in one's own garden; look away for too long and anything can turn up—a vine, a weed, a hedge of thorns.
'My mom cut the lilacs down. Too much shade.' Kylie bites down harder on her lip. 'Check.'
She's taken Gideon by surprise, moving a pawn he hadn't paid much attention to. She's got him surrounded, allowing him one last turn out of kindness before she moves in for the kill.
'You're going to win,' Gideon says.
'That's right,' Kylie says. The expression on his face makes her feel like crying, but she's not going to lose on purpose. She just can't do that.
Gideon makes the only move he can—sacrificing his queen—but it's not enough to save him, and when Kylie puts him in checkmate, he salutes her. This is what he wanted, but he's all confused anyway.
'Do you have the ten with you?' Kylie asks, even though she couldn't care less.
'Over at my place,' Gideon says.
'We don't want to go there.'
On this they both agree. Gideon's mother never leaves them alone, she's constantly asking if they want something to eat or drink; maybe she figures if she leaves them alone for a second they'll find themselves in big trouble.
'You can owe me until tomorrow,' Kylie says. 'Bring it over then.'
'Let's just go for a walk,' Gideon suggests. He looks at her then, finally. 'Let's get out of here for a while.'
