moment that her name is dropped. Even more upsetting? Is how the trees sway with her name, the gust of wind from the west that causes leaves to fall, twigs to snap and branches to bend. “But this is more serious than Glory’s cleansings. This cleansing will only work if everyone is on board and has an open mind.”
“I’m in,” says Miguel.
“Me, too,” chimes in Sylvia, leaving the three of us staring at the skeptic.
Sawyer rolls his neck. “Fine. What’s the strange thing I have to do?”
I waggle my eyebrows at him. “You have to buy us chocolate milkshakes.”
SAWYER
Tuesday September 3: Oh, Diary, I got my first real kiss tonight. Morris was over to say goodbye and he kissed me. O, but I’m going to miss him alright.
Reading Evelyn’s first kiss brought me unexpected joy. Facing death, watching death, being right next to death—she lived. And I’m living. Right now, with Veronica by my side.
Veronica has a playlist that includes opening songs from cartoons, Disney and Nickelodeon shows, and one-hit wonders, and I’ve never seen Sylvia so happy. She’s in the passenger seat joining along with Veronica, who’s in the backseat with me, in some dance that can somehow be done with the arms more than the feet and it’s hysterical how in sync they are with the melody and the movements.
Sad part? We’re listening to a cringy, one-hit wonder that Miguel and I not only know, but we’re singing along with. Veronica leans over, bumps my shoulder, a nudge for me to dance along with her. With how she moves her hips and can move her body, I’m game. She angles toward me, I angle toward her. Our arms are in the air, and I match the way she dances with the beat from side to side.
Sylvia glances at us from the front seat and cracks up laughing. A belly laugh I’ve rarely heard from her for over a year. Miguel flashes a quick glance at us, too, from the rearview, and he also releases a gut laugh. One I haven’t heard him do since the end of our freshman year. Don’t get me wrong, they laugh, but haven’t really laughed. Not since their residual hauntings took over their lives.
Veronica meets my gaze and her blue eyes not only dance, but have a seductive shine. One that promises kissing, touching and holding each other very close. Catching on to the dance, to the rhythm, I move right as she moves left and then we meet in the middle, allowing our arms to flow perfectly with each other.
The song comes to an end, a song from a cartoon that I watched as a child starts, and Sylvia claps with joy. “I loved this show!”
I did, too, and when Miguel and Sylvia start singing along, I lean forward, cradle Veronica’s face and kiss her lips. She’s warm, she’s soft, she tastes like heaven and the moment she kisses back, every cell in my body comes alive. The kiss isn’t sweet, it isn’t slow. It’s hot, it’s intense, and it’s all my emotions pouring into her.
Against the driving need to keep kissing, to keep touching, I pull back and Veronica gives me a dazzling and daring grin. “What was that for?”
I rest my forehead against hers. “For creating this moment.”
“You were the one who bought the milkshakes,” she whispers.
“Yeah, but this is happening because you’re you.”
The car slows and Sylvia boos. “We should go around the neighborhood again.”
“No,” I say. “Five laps were enough.” It’s time for me to have some time alone with Veronica.
Miguel places his SUV in park, and Sylvia takes off her seat belt so she can reach back and give me a hug. Veronica’s a bit shocked when Sylvia hugs her, too. Miguel and I share a shake, and he offers Veronica a fist bump. She accepts and then we slip out of the backseat.
We hold hands as we walk toward the house. In the distance, bolts of lightning dance across the sky, brightening the huge, growing clouds. The storm all the weather people have been raving about this week will finally hit tonight, but it doesn’t bother me. Lucy’s safe at her friend’s, Mom’s staying the night at Sylvia’s house, Miguel and Sylvia will be home before the first drop of rain hits the blacktop, and Veronica and I are home.
The air is full of electricity and has that deep rich scent of the promise of rain. Charged atoms preceding a storm. But that’s not what’s causing