Marco shook his head. “Not really.”
“‘Blowin’ in the Wind.’ That’s my favorite song. It’s kind of a sad song, but it doesn’t remind me of sad times. It reminds me of day trips to the Highlands with the whole family, or lazing around on a Saturday afternoon, just Mum and me. I suppose sometimes it’s the memories associated with the song rather than the song itself that makes it a favorite.”
“That sounds cool. I’m glad you have a cool family, Hannah. You deserve that.”
I frowned at the seeming insinuation behind his words. “So do you, Marco.”
When he didn’t reply, I pushed the frustration over not being able to help him with his family life aside, and asked, “Favorite movie?”
I saw his cheek lift into a smile again and I relaxed. “Training Day.”
“I haven’t seen it.”
“We’ll fix that oversight. What about you?”
“My favorite movie? Or my real favorite movie?”
He chuckled. “Both.”
“The movie I tell everyone is my favorite is Dead Poets Society. It’s a great movie, but it’s really my mum’s favorite movie.”
“And yours?”
I felt my cheeks heat a little. “Okay, you can’t tell anyone.”
He laughed. “How bad is this?”
“It’s Finding Nemo.”
Marco grinned. “It’s not that bad.”
“Out of all the movies of all time, I choose Finding Nemo. An animation,” I reminded him.
He shrugged. “I chose Training Day. It’s not what everyone else holds up as a great movie – your favorite movie is one you enjoy a lot. A movie you can watch over and over again because for whatever reason you get something out of it.”
“You’re right. You’re completely right. From now on I’m owning up to Finding Nemo.”
“Oh, I never said that,” he teased. “Keep that shit to yourself until you’re out of high school.”
“Hey!” I punched him playfully on the arm and he burst out laughing. Watching him, knowing I’d lifted his mood, made me feel like someone had wrapped us up in a warm cocoon. The connection between us had strengthened. “Next question. Favorite book?”
Marco grimaced comically. “Like I read.”
“You’ve at least read something, right?”
He laughed and deflected the question. “What’s your favorite book?”
“To Kill a Mockingbird.”
Something I didn’t understand glittered in the back of his eyes. “Nice choice.”
“Aha, you’ve read it!”
Marco smiled and shrugged.
“I don’t know if shrugging constitutes an answer where you come from, Chicago Boy, but here it doesn’t qualify.”
“Them be a whole lot of big words, smart girl. Ma small brain ain’t be knowing what yer talkin’ about.”