“I’ve only ever had two close friends. I’ve always known they were lifers.” Or at least that’s what I thought, before this summer. And hopefully I’m still right. There’s a learning curve to everything. “That’s the rule when you’re pretty much born together.”
“Well, you’re lucky then. You have true BFFs. And a better family, too.”
“Not better. Just different.”
She glances at me, just so I don’t miss her masterful eye roll. “Whatever you say.”
I do it then, because I want this stronger Marlow to stay—I reach for her hand, clasp my fingers tight around hers. She looks down, frowning at first, but she doesn’t pull away. Our hands stay together.
“You going all sisterly on me now, or what?” she asks.
“Not sisterly. Just—as a neighbor. Maybe a friend even. I want you to know that I’m here. Just a short walk across the woods. If you need anything. At all. I mean it.”
“A short walk, maybe, but I got so many pricklies scraping at my legs on my way here, and you’re lucky I wore these old shoes I don’t care about. I stepped in two muddy puddles. And nearly fell when I tripped over a stupid old branch. Land mines the whole way.”
“So, you’re saying you probably won’t be coming over that often?”
“Probably not.” She looks up at me, and I can’t be completely sure, but I think she might almost be smiling. “Or maybe I’ll ask my mom for some farmer boots. And shin guards or something like that. Keep myself protected. Or I guess I could just use the road.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“I’d like that. Though next time you come, you should try my mom’s cookies. You missed out.”
“Maybe you can wrap some up for me? I won’t tell Max about them. He ate enough of her treats this summer. He talked about them all the time. Never brought me any, though. So selfish.”
“I’ll get you those cookies,” I say, letting go of her hand as I stand. “But do me a favor? While you’re not entirely wrong about Max being selfish sometimes, maybe give him a chance to do better? He probably needs you more than ever right now.”
“Wouldn’t know it. He’s barely said two words to me. He’s been locked away in his room pretty much every minute of the day. Crying and hitting things from what I can tell from listening at the door. It’s not eavesdropping. I’m just making sure he’s okay.”
I hold back a smile. “He needs time. But I don’t think he’ll want to be alone forever.”
“Maybe.” She closes her mouth. Then opens it again like she wants to say more, but stops. Bites her lip.
I turn away and walk inside to the kitchen. I empty the rest of the cookie tin into a plastic bag. Mama will be disappointed, but it’s a good cause. She can have the cookies from the plate Marlow left in the living room, and Mimmy can always make more tomorrow. I hear voices then—the moms stirring in the living room, a few footsteps coming toward the kitchen. “Calliope?”
“Not done yet,” I say, slipping back out the door.
Marlow is still in the chair, rocking, when I come back out. “Thanks,” she says, looking down at the bag as I hand it to her. She stays like that for a minute, not moving, and then, “Did Max tell you? We might move away?”
“He did tell me.”
“It’s not a done deal. But we don’t have much reason to stay.”
It hurts when she says it, but I try not to show just how much. “What do you want?” I ask. I watch her, waiting.
“I want,” she starts, lifting her head up to meet my gaze, and I realize for the first time that she has Max’s eyes. Not Elliot’s. Not mine. “I want a home and for my family to feel like a real family.”
“I want that for you, too.”
Chapter Eighteen
TWO days pass with no visits from the Jackson family.
It’s eating me alive, wondering if they’ll move. Leave Green Woods in the dust forever. I might never see Marlow again. Or Max. Or Elliot. My concern right now lies in that order. Funny, how Elliot is the first one I’d cut, after all those years spent wondering about him. Maybe I’d feel more of a connection with him if we had more time. Maybe not.
“Thank god this summer is almost over,” Ginger says to me, dipping her glittery yellow sunglasses down her nose to make her stare more pointed. “Because this funk you’re in? It can’t go on forever. I never thought I’d say this, but I’m actually excited for us to be back in school. Homework and tests and battling with the school board about helping the environment will do you some good.” She pushes her glasses back up, leans against the slowly deflating edge of the turtle pool.
There’s a slow leak we can’t find despite several intensive searches. The turtle is destined to live for one season and one season only.
“But you’ll see Vivi less,” I point out.
She waves me off. “That might be good, too. She’ll miss me enough to finally try to lock me down. Imagine how much she’ll worry, wondering about all the cute girls throwing themselves at me in the halls of Green Woods High.”
“Does she know there’s only one other out girl in the whole school?”
“Of course not,” she says, chuckling. “I play my cards carefully.”
“I don’t think you have to play anything with her. She likes you.”
“She does, doesn’t she?”
I toss the stick from my ice pop at her face.
“Speaking of Viv, I should head out soon. Hot date tonight. She’s taking me to her dad’s old-guy-softball-league game.”
“Wow. Cheering for her dad in his sweaty polyester uniform. That’s a pretty big deal.”
“Right? And who knows, we might even hit up TGI Fridays or Applebee’s after.” She’s smirking, or pretending to, anyway. But there’s a glow to her. And not just because we’ve been soaking in this sad
