did, pulling the passenger-side seat belt snug against it to hold it in place. Then I sat back and looked at it for a moment, and out of nowhere I started laughing, really laughing, just me sitting there in the car by myself and feeling so goddamn good about everything.
I put on a playlist Ricky had shared with me, checked that the popcorn was secure one more time, and backed out of the driveway.
* * *
It was after nine thirty by the time I turned onto Lydia’s street. For a moment I wondered if I was being an idiot, if she would think I was stupid for showing up at her house this late, but a calm voice inside told me to keep going. I sent a single text after I parked.
Can you come outside? I have something for you.
Lydia opened the door as I was walking up the front steps. Her hair was wet and she wore a big T-shirt that almost covered her pajama shorts. My stomach swooped at the sight.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, grinning as she stepped onto the porch, her floral scent swirling all around me.
I held out the popcorn. “You had a bad day.”
Her eyes lit up, and she laughed like she couldn’t believe it. “You’re kidding. You got this for me?”
“Straight from the movie theater. I thought it would help with studying.”
She took the popcorn bucket and placed it on the porch by her bare feet. Then she wrapped me in the surest hug I’ve ever known.
“Thanks,” she said softly, pulling away. “Can you come in for a minute?”
“Don’t you have to study?”
“I can take a break,” she said, and smiled.
It was only the second time we’d been alone together, unless you counted the few stolen minutes we’d had in her bedroom. I got a better look at her room this time: It was small but homey, with dark wallpaper and a collection of mismatched lamps lighting the space. The overhead light wasn’t on; neither was the fan. There was a tennis racket in the corner, a vintage record player on the floor, and an old wooden desk overlooking a window. Her laptop sat open on the desk with a tumbler of water next to it.
“Inspecting my room?” she asked, folding herself onto the bed with the popcorn at her belly.
“I was too drunk to take it in last time. I like how cozy it is.” I dropped down into the desk chair, looking over at her. “Do you use the record player?”
“Not really. It’s my brother Asher’s, but he gave it to me when he left for college. I keep forgetting about it, though. I’d make a horrible hipster.”
“My parents had a record player in our old house. Once in a while they’d drink a bottle of wine and put it on, and then they’d just sit there with their eyes closed and listen for, like, half an hour.” I bit my lip, remembering. “That’s when I’d get my little flip pad and try to draw them.”
Lydia laughed brightly. “You drew your parents when they weren’t looking? That was your way of being sneaky?”
“I was self-conscious!” I laughed. “My parents were, like, the all-American couple, always socializing and hosting parties, and then they had me, and I just wanted to hide in corners and finger paint. They had no idea what to do with me.”
Lydia had a tender smile on her face. “I bet you were cuter than you realize.”
I ducked my head, laughing softly. “Maybe.”
We melted into silence. Then Lydia said, “So … this midterm I got back today…”
“Yeah?” I prompted.
“I got a sixty-eight.”
It was clear, from the way she said it, that she hadn’t told anyone else yet.
I wasn’t sure what to say. Everything in me wanted to make her feel better, but all the responses in my head felt inadequate. Finally, I opened my mouth and asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”
It was a stupid, cheesy question, but Lydia didn’t hold it against me; instead she nodded and let everything spill out.
“I thought I’d studied pretty hard, and when I took it I thought I did okay, like a B-minus maybe, but when I got it back today I felt like someone had punched me. I don’t get why math is so impossible for me. My brothers and parents are so good at it, like they can add numbers in their heads so fast, but I’ve never been able to do that. My parents aren’t