acquired—within ten minutes. I fire off a text to Nikki, because if there’s one person who will have my back in this, it is definitely her. It’s a short text, three words only: We made up.
She doesn’t write back right away; I don’t expect her to. She’ll probably be tied up at the game for the next few hours. That’s what Saturdays are like around here. I usually spend them practicing cello, but every other overachieving kid in town is either at a game or rehearsing for a play.
But today, today is different. Today is . . . fate. Today is meant to be. Today, we’re going to test-drive this tentative more-than-truce we started last night and see how it flies in the daytime.
I slip out of my bedroom, tiptoeing down the hallway, but Vera’s sitting at the kitchen counter already, her coffee steaming in front of her. She puts down her phone and looks up at me, her eyes still bleary. “Jubilee? You’re heading out early. You going to a game?”
“No.” I’m tempted to fib, but Ridley said no more lies. “I’m meeting a friend in Malywick,” I say, lingering in the doorway. I know if I actually set foot on the linoleum, she’ll start peppering me with questions I’m not ready to answer.
Even though Ridley is ready to be 100 percent transparent with his life, I’m not so sure I’m ready to do the same with mine. And I don’t think Vera would be so forgiving either; you can’t even mention The Geekery without her blood pressure rising.
“This wouldn’t be the same friend who climbed our deck railing last night instead of using the stairs, would it?”
“Uh,” I say, my face heating.
“They left muddy footprints everywhere.”
“Maybe it was a raccoon?” I wince.
“A raccoon with size-eleven Vans that they left parked by the sliding glass door all night?”
“Maybe it was a very courteous raccoon?”
“I won’t tell your mother, as long as it never happens again. Don’t make me regret this.”
“Deal.”
She leans back in her seat, crossing her arms. “Will you tell me who it was?”
“Not yet, okay?” I say. “But I will.”
Whatever Ridley and I have still feels tentative. Like a sudden gust of air could break us. I don’t want to let anyone in who isn’t going to be on board until it has time to grow. Until I know they can’t scare it off. At least until I figure out a way to put a positive spin on the fact that he’s an Everlasting.
Vera nods; she’s always been the easier one when it comes to stuff like this. “It’s cold out.”
I point to my head. “The headband covers my ears.”
“Bring your coat.”
“I’m wearing a sweatshirt.”
“A coat, Jubilee,” Vera says, and then sips her coffee with a satisfied smirk.
* * *
? ? ?
The walk to Malywick takes way too long. Halfway there I curse myself for not riding my bike . . . but I didn’t know what else Ridley had planned, and I didn’t want to be pushing it around all day.
I turn down Southside Drive, grinning when I see the familiar sight of trees winding into the air. The park sits basically in the center of town, around the remains of some old settlers’ houses. In the summer, the place is filled with tourists and buskers. Music and laughter—and the occasional argument—mix with the scent of the waffle cones from the fro-yo shop nearby, where Jayla works. This time of year, it’s deserted, peaceful even, a place to sit and reflect in privacy.
The perfect place to meet the very cute boy who’s currently sitting on top of a picnic table, bouncing his knee.
Ridley’s hoodie is pulled down so low over his eyes, I can’t even see them. He looks small, folded up like that, a little stress ball in a slightly too big sweatshirt. He glances up when he hears me, pulling back his hood, his eyes widening to match his smile. His hands are tucked into his pockets, but he jumps down without losing his balance.