I’ve never seen my brother like this. Not when he got rejected from Columbia, not when he broke up with his high school girlfriend, not even when we heard our mom’s test results. Juniper and I exchange a look.
“You’re right,” Lewis says, straightening. “We should celebrate.” He sounds like he’s convincing himself. In the next second, the old unflappable Lewis returns, and in the interim, I feel like I’ve seen behind a curtain. I’ve stolen a glimpse into how efficiently Lewis stows whatever is bothering him into someplace unseen. “Sushi?” he says cheerfully.
“Are you sure?” Juniper asks, still looking concerned.
“I want to focus on the win tonight,” Lewis replies, his voice taking on a hint of the sincerity it held moments ago, before his collected persona returned. “The rest will be waiting for me tomorrow.”
Juniper nods. With that, we collect our jackets and head from the student center into the snow and wind. Juniper searches for sushi restaurants on her phone while I walk with Lewis, neither of us speaking. It’s a tentatively comfortable silence. We settle on Sushi Fuku and head for the city.
We’re stepping off campus when I see the couple from earlier. Cameron and Brendan. They’re wrapped in each other, kissing like they have forever to do it. Warmth flutters in my chest. I reach for Juniper’s hand. When I interlace my fingers with hers, she smiles.
Lewis was right. Focus on the good tonight. The rest is waiting.
Juniper
“I CAN’T BELIEVE you told Dad you and Matt broke up before you told me.”
I’m on the phone with Marisa in the hotel room. It’s nearly ten, and I’m uncomfortably full of sushi and sashimi and soy sauce. The evening was fun, despite Lewis’s momentary melancholy. He ordered saké, though not enough that Fitz had to carry him home. I was getting out of the shower when Marisa called, having just heard about Matt from Dad.
“I didn’t want to tell him,” I protest. “He trapped me.”
“I’m just glad he didn’t force you to come home,” she replies. “Having the room to myself is kind of the best. Hey, could you not come home very much when you’re in college? Or ever?”
“You butt.” I laugh. “I know you miss me.”
She scoffs loudly over the line. “Miss you? More like I miss your car.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t miss you talking in your sleep. Or your morning breath.” I put the phone on speaker and pull on sweatpants and a T-shirt.
“You’re such a liar.”
I start distractedly packing in preparation for leaving for D.C. in the morning. Picking up the Carnegie Mellon pamphlet I grabbed from the admissions office, I remember Fitz’s enthusiasm in the linguistics lecture. I wonder if he’s mentioned to his brother why we’re here, why I rerouted the trip to Pittsburgh. Lewis admitting his feelings about Prisha today was a rare confidence between the brothers, and I can’t help hoping it begins a pattern of letting each other in. Fitz could use a brother to confide in. Lewis could too, even if he doesn’t show it.
“Hey, Marisa?” I say. I take the phone off speaker and return it to my ear like bringing her voice closer to me can close the geographical gap between us. I don’t want to keep everything from my sister. I don’t want us to fall into Fitz and Lewis’s uneasy relationship of unspoken words and silent resentments.
“What?” She sounds somewhat distracted. I figure she’s painting her nails. Her favorite shade, Indignantly Indigo. I like that I know that.
“I kind of met someone on this trip,” I say. It’s funny—just mentioning Fitz gives me a giddy, weightless feeling. I find I’m smiling into my phone.
Marisa gasps exaggeratedly. “Juniper Ramírez. Is this someone why you and Matt broke up?”
“No,” I insist. “Matt and I wouldn’t have lasted regardless.” I cross the room carrying the clothes I wore today. When I fold and place them in my suitcase, my hand brushes Marisa’s sweater with its impossible-to-ignore coffee stain. “Oh, and I have to come clean about something. I, um, stole your sweater and sort of got coffee on it.” I wince in