Most Likely (Most Likely #1) - Sarah Watson Page 0,99

pocket. “Seriously. Shhh. Scott loaned me the key only because I promised we wouldn’t get caught. So we need to be quiet.”

She slid it into the lock and pulled back the chain-link gate. It was the same gate that had kept them from entering the park on their first Friday as seniors, a night that now seemed like a million years ago. The gate wasn’t protecting a proposed development site anymore. The office complex was almost done.

“Okay,” said CJ, as soon as they were inside. “Who brought the goods?”

Ava put up her hand. “Me.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a skewer.

Martha took it from her. “A skewer?”

“Yes. A skewer. What’s your problem? It’s perfect.”

“It’s actually totally perfect,” said Jordan. “So let’s get on with this. We go in alphabetical order, right? Out of fairness?”

“Definitely,” said Martha. She handed the skewer back to Ava.

They walked around to the side of the building. To the spot where earlier that day a layer of fresh concrete had been poured. It was still wet, just waiting for them to leave their mark. They went one by one, carefully printing the letters into the soft cement. When they were done, they admired the list.

Ava Morgan

CJ Jacobson

Jordan Schafer

Martha Custis

Class of 2020

There wasn’t a lot to say after that. Nobody gave a big speech or anything. Writing their names down was enough. After they were done, they walked out and shut the gate behind them.

They’d driven separately since they were all going different places afterward. Ava had plans to hang out with Logan at the theater, and Jordan was going to meet her grandmother to work on sewing some new clothes for college. Martha’s dad had let her borrow the car to drive downtown to meet up with a group of MIT freshmen who had found one another online.

CJ was the only one who didn’t have plans. As she unlocked her car, she watched her three best friends drive off in different directions. After this summer, they wouldn’t see one another every day anymore. But that was okay. She knew they would always be in one another’s lives.

Her phone rang and Wyatt’s name flashed on her screen.

“Hey,” she said, answering. “I thought you were with your family tonight.”

Wyatt’s father had finally gotten the courage to reach out to his younger brother, and they’d been slowly working on repairing the damage between them. They had plans to finally introduce each other to their families tonight.

“I’m still with them,” Wyatt said. “But I had to call you to tell you the craziest thing.”

CJ turned the car on and pulled away from the curb. “Do tell.” She glanced in the rearview mirror and watched the park, or rather the place where the park had once been, disappear from view.

“My uncle has a son.”

CJ smiled. “I knew it. I was right, wasn’t I?”

“You were right. He’s great, Clarke. Really great.”

CJ knew who he was talking about. Because she knew Wyatt’s last name, of course. She’d even asked him about it. It was such a unique name. Such a uniquely awful name. When he told her that his dad had a brother, she’d wondered if maybe Logan might be his cousin. They’d thought about it and speculated, but Wyatt didn’t want her to talk to Logan about it. It was his dad’s business, and he wanted his dad to move at his own pace.

“It’s kind of like having a brother. I’m excited. He had to leave just now. I guess he’s got a job at a movie theater or something. But we’re going to hang out tomorrow, just the two of us.”

“That’s amazing.”

And it was amazing. CJ felt goose bumps all over her arms.

“Anyway,” he said, “I have to go. I just wanted to call to tell you that. Oh, and I have to tell you one more thing.”

“What’s that?” CJ asked.

She could hear the smile in his voice. “I love you, Clarke Jacobson.”

The goose bumps spread from her arms to her entire body. “I love you too, Wyatt Diffenderfer.”

EPILOGUE

Washington, DC

January 20, 2049

WYATT AND I are seated beside each other on the West Front of the Capitol Building. We’re surrounded by politicians and dignitaries and a crowd of onlookers so deep that I can’t see where they end. I know that every little movement of mine will be scrutinized, so I’m doing my best to keep my shoulders back and my posture presidential. Wyatt thinks that now is the perfect time to try to make me laugh. He leans