“Plus,” Milo says quietly, the emotions he’s holding back from me quivering on the point of breaking out, “I wouldn’t mind seeing you in a dress, maybe even with your hair curled, or something. I’d like to see that.”
Relief is quickly overruled. “I don’t curl my hair,” I say abruptly.
Milo turns. “Why not?”
“I just don’t.”
I realize my mistake as soon as he sits up. His slate grey eyes lock with mine. “Why don’t you curl your hair?” The stubborn, relentless look in his eyes is convincing. He is not going to let up. “Why?” he asks again.
“I’m not curling my hair,” I say, just as unwavering as he is.
He pauses for a moment. “But you’ll go to the dance with me?”
“Yes,” I snap without thinking.
Leaning back against his pillow with a bored expression, Milo says, “I’m not taking you unless you curl your hair.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
He is going to regret this. I can be just as stubborn as he can. “Cut your hair, then,” I demand.
“Huh?”
“Cut your hair, and I’ll curl mine.” Let’s see how he likes being put on the spot.
Wrong again.
Milo shrugs. “Okay.”
“Wait. What?”
He runs his fingers through his hair and lets it fall back down in a tangled mess. “It is getting a bit long, isn’t it? The dance starts at nine.”
Completely unable to speak, I open and close my mouth several times without uttering a single word. Milo leans back on his pillow and closes his eyes. The movie plays on regardless of the fact that neither of us is watching it anymore. I slump against the headboard in defeat. How did he just do that?
“You know, if we’re going to do this right, I should probably take you out to dinner before the dance. I’ll pick you up at seven instead,” Milo says. “Oh, and don’t forget you’ll need a dress.”
“A dress?” I ask, though it sounds more like a squeak than actual words.
“It is a formal dance.”
Oh crap, it is. I haven’t worn a dress since…since my dad’s funeral. I don’t even own a dress anymore.
“And, before you ask,” Milo says, “I don’t do dress shopping. But you can take my little sister with you, if you want. She loves that kind of stuff.”
It takes a moment for his words to really sink in. “You have a sister?”
“Yeah, Celia. She just turned fifteen a few weeks ago.” His eyes are still closed as he moves his arms behind his head. Content, and a little smug, he looks as if he plans to stay there forever.
“You never told me you had a sister.”
“You never asked.”
“Why haven’t I ever seen her at school?” I ask. Surely he’s not one of those jerks that refuse to acknowledge his siblings at school.
“Celia goes to a charter school for performing arts. She’s a really great dancer.”
“Do you have any other siblings?” I ask, glad to know he’s not a creep after all. I still can’t believe he’s never mentioned his sister to me.
Milo finally opens his eyes. “Nope. Do you?”
“No, I’m an only child,” I say. My mind starts working again and his off-handed comment about his sister finally catches back up to me. “You want me to take your sister shopping. So, you’ve told her about me?”
“Uh-huh. She’s been bugging me for weeks to meet you. Just tell me what day you want to go and we can pick her up from school, or you two can go out this weekend. She’ll be pretty stoked.”
She knows Milo has been hanging out with me, but if she’s excited to meet me…”So you didn’t tell her about who I am, though?” There’s no way she’d want to go shopping with me if she knew.
Milo surprises me again. “No, she knows. She was a little worried at first, but we talked about it, and she’s fine about us, now, although, she has been feeling a little left out since I’ve been hanging out with you. It sucks being at home with just the parents.”
Celia being fine about “us” and Milo choosing to spend time with me over a sister he obviously cares about very much is not lost on me. I feel a little lightheaded suddenly, but I don’t let that stop me.
“I feel bad that you’ve missed out on time with Celia. I didn’t mean to keep you away from her.” And I really have. Milo leaves early to come pick me up, comes to my room right after school to supposedly do homework—not that he ever does—and doesn’t leave until late every night.
“Celia understands,” Milo says. His carefully concealed emotions aren’t washing over me, but there is a tense vibration hovering around him that he must not be aware of. “But maybe after you two get to know each other some, you wouldn’t mind if she hung out with us once in a while.”
“Of course, Milo, I’d love that.”
His tension vanishes completely as the corners of his mouth turn up. Eyes closing again, Milo seems to sink into the bed with relief. I let my own smile spring into existence. He was worried that I wouldn’t want his little sister around. They must be very close. Sweet, adorable, I just can’t think of the right word to describe Milo caring that much about his little sister. It makes me want to curl up next to him and pull his arms around me. Not only is Milo willing to accept me, it would appear that Celia is too. Two down, seven billion to go.
“Do your parents know about me?” I ask suddenly.
Milo’s eyes pop open. “Are you kidding me? We don’t talk much, normally. I’m certainly not telling them about you.”
“Oh,” I say dejectedly. I guess that was too much to hope for.
Pushing up from his pillow, Milo looks at me. “It’s not because I’m hiding you from them, or anything. Everyone at school already knows we’re friends. It’s just that, my parents…they wouldn’t be able to handle this. And they’d take it out on you. I don’t want that to happen.”
I don’t really know what to say. It was stupid to hope his parents, the ones who treat him so badly, would welcome me into their home. My mom is, in general, a pretty awful person, but she’s my only family. I hate her for abandoning me, but I still miss her. I miss belonging to someone.
Before I can wallow too much, Milo’s hands grip my waist and pull me down to the bed with him to finish watching the movie. “Celia’s free this Saturday if you want to go shopping.”
“That sounds great,” I say.
I don’t even realize I’m lying on his shoulder until his arm curls around me. The despair that had started to puddle inside me melts away. I nestle against him feeling closer to complete than I have in a very long time. It’s pretty far from Milo actually admitting to any serious feelings for me, but he certainly knows how to make me feel better.
Chapter 15
Sporting Chance
I fell asleep in Milo’s arms that night. If somebody’s car alarm hadn’t woken us both up around midnight, we may not have woken up at all. It was the latest Milo had ever stayed with me. He claimed it was worry about Seekers that made him linger even after we woke up, but it was the first night he hugged me before he left. Every night after that, he stayed late and wrapped me up in his baggy sweatshirt-clothed arms every time he came or left. Every hug eased a little more of my doubts about him, and I didn’t resist.
This morning is no exception. Celia stands by Milo’s car as he greets me with a hug. It’s shorter than usual and he shoves his hands in his pockets as soon as he pulls back. His quick glance over at Celia explains his brisk greeting.
“Celia, Libby. Libby, Celia,” Milo says.
Celia finally steps away from the car and approaches me. “Hi, Libby. It’s nice to meet you.”
“It’s nice to meet you, too, Celia,” I say. “Are you ready for some serious shopping?”
She grins just like Milo. “Always.”
“Great, ‘cause I really need some help today. I’ve never actually bought a dress before. My mom always just picked them out for me,”
I say.
“Wow, Milo,” Celia says, looking at her brother, “you weren’t joking about her.”
Milo nods and slings one arm around her shoulder. “I wouldn’t lie to you about something as serious as shopping, Celia. I know it’s practically your entire life.”
She punches him lightly in the gut. “It’s only about sixty percent of my life. The other forty percent belongs to boys.”
“It better not.”
“Whatever. Are you gonna get outta here, or what? Libby and I have work to do.”
More at ease after his playful banter with Celia, Milo comes back to my side. His hand lightly presses against the small of my back. He leans close to me, and asks, “Are you sure you don’t want me to tag along? This one can be a bit of a terror when it comes to dresses and shoes.”
“I thought you didn’t do dress shopping,” I say.
“Only under extreme circumstances. This may qualify.” His mouth is so tantalizingly close to my skin. It’s heartbreaking not to have him move an inch or two closer and press his lips against my temple. I’m tempted to just close the distance myself.
Celia is too quick, though.
“Go, Milo. Go play your video games, or crawl around in your Jeep. Go do whatever it is nerds like you do and let us girls shop.”
“Jeep?” I ask, turning to face Milo. “You’re not going rock crawling without me are you?” I am instantly jealous that he would even consider leaving me behind. Out in the hills is the only place I get to see the real Milo. Out there he laughs and jokes, no sign whatsoever of the shuffling nobody he pretends to be at school. I don’t want to miss that.
Smiling at the slight whine in my voice, Milo grabs my pouting chin. “No, I’m not taking the Jeep out without you. I’m going to play a little Call of Duty with some friends from back home, and maybe do some research.”
I don’t even have to ask what he’s going to research. Seekers. It’s what we’ve spent all week doing. Without any luck whatsoever. The internet and library didn’t hold a single clue. The Guardians are too careful for that. I know who I could have called. He would have known the answers, I’m sure. Lance’s dad lets him in on what secrets and suspicions he can because he is so sure his son will follow in his footsteps. I wanted to call Lance, but I didn’t. Even bringing up the option pissed Milo off.
He thought I was crazy given how Lance treats me at school. Maybe if I had told him about Lance watching me and him stopping Angus, he would have reconsidered, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell him. If I did, I’m sure he would have heard the hope that Lance hasn’t completely abandoned me in my voice. I’ve thought about calling Lance without telling Milo a million times this week. Every time I pick up my phone and try to dial my fingers seem to freeze up. Maybe that’s for the best. If I’m wrong about Lance, my calling him will only make things worse.
I know more searching won’t do Milo any good, but if he wants to do something that can only improve his study habits, I’m not going to stand in his way. “Well, have fun with all that,” I say. “We’ll see you in a little while.”
His expression seems doubtful of my time estimate. Really, though, how hard can it be to find a dress?
“You girls have fun,” Milo says. He walks over to his little sister, pulls her into a one armed hug and drops a kiss on the top of her head. “Celia, go easy on her, okay?”
She sniffs derisively and hugs him back. Then he walks over to me. I get a hug with both arms, and very nearly a kiss on the top of my head as well, but I think that might have been out of habit with his sister, because he stops before actually making contact. I’m not quick enough to suppress a sigh. I’m not sure how Milo interprets the sigh, but he pulls me closer for a few wonderful seconds. And when he does pull back his hand comes up to my cheek. My own hand reaches up to cover his hand, my eyes locking with his. Smiling as he trails his hand down my cheek, he turns his palm up to catch my hand.
My fingers brush against his diktats, and he freezes. Overwhelming curiosity, the kind that has gotten me into trouble more times than I can count, wells up inside of me. Milo seems to recognize it. His expression goes from startled to begging, pleading. His request is clear. Just leave it be. Don’t ask me. Not right now. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from uttering my question. Breathing out in relief, his grip tightens on my hand before dropping. He’ll tell me when he’s ready. Whatever terror he suffered, Milo will share it with me when he’s ready.
Or maybe Celia will tell me.
Hours, and hours, and hours later, I sling my newly purchased dress over an empty chair in the mall food court and plop into the chair across from Celia. My sesame chicken is steaming in front of me, its syrupy deliciousness making my stomach growl. Celia is already digging into her beef and broccoli. The promise of food is almost enough to make me forget my throbbing feet. At least this shopping trip went better than the last one. There were fewer glares and angry comments, probably due to the fact that I have done an excellent job of avoiding the media like the plague they are. Without my face plastered everywhere, fewer people react to me. The general population is a fickle creature. Thank goodness.
Taking a bite of sesame chicken, my hunger consumes me. We’ve been here forever. I like shopping as much as any girl, I suppose, but Celia is clearly the shopping champion. In four hours, we invaded twenty-three stores and tried on I don’t even know how many dresses. It was shocking that there were even that many dresses to try on in one mall. I never knew it before, but there is a very good reason I don’t go dress shopping. It’s too hard.
Celia definitely came through for me. The dress is perfect. At least I think so.
“Do you really think Milo will like the dress?” I ask Celia.
“Definitely,” she says between bites. “Probably too much, actually. You look really great in it.”
“Thanks for coming with me. I really do appreciate it.”
“I’m just glad I finally got to meet you. Milo’s practically been a ghost lately. I had to meet the person who could keep him away from me so much.” Despite the fact that I’ve practically commandeered her brother, there’s no rancor in her voice at all.
“Sorry he hasn’t been around. I really didn’t mean to steal him from you like that,” I say.
“No problem. I miss Milo when you guys are together, but it’s worth it,” she says. “I haven’t seen him like this since before we moved.”
My head tilts to one side in consideration. “Like what?”
“Happy,” she replies seriously.
“He wasn't happy before?”
She shakes her head. “Not since we moved here. He’s been a totally different person, sullen, angry, rebellious, nothing like he used to be. It really scared me for a while. I thought I was losing my big brother the way he and my parents fight constantly, or the way he acts and dresses, not to mention his general pissy attitude. He was never like that before.”
“What was he like?” Milo never talks about his life before moving to Albuquerque.
Toying with her food, Celia stares at nothing. “He used to be Mom and Dad’s golden boy. He did everything they asked, as long as it didn’t interfere with friends or football.”
I choke on a piece of chicken and splutter in disbelief. “Milo played football?”
“Yeah, quarterback. He never told you?” Then she shakes her head. “No, he wouldn’t. He doesn’t talk about it anymore, even though I think he really misses it. He was incredibly good, for someone without Speed and Strength anyway. You can’t tell because of the stupid, ugly, baggy clothes he wears all the time now, but if you could see him without his shirt on, you’d see how fit he is. Not that I’m making any suggestions, or anything. Milo freaks out about me and boys so much he better be following his own advice on that front. He is, right?”
Her intent gaze makes me flush scarlet. I’ve never seen Milo with his shirt off, but I’d be lying through my teeth if I said I didn’t know how muscular he is. I take every opportun
ity I can get to put my hands on him. Celia’s gaze grows even more questioning in the face of my silence. Oh, crap.
“Milo is definitely following his own advice,” I say quickly. “Don’t worry about that.”
Celia relaxes a bit and smiles. “He was right about you blushing. It is a good look on you.”
“Milo said that?” I ask.
“Oh yeah,” she laughs. “It’s hard to get him to open up since we moved, but when he does talk, it’s usually about you.”
I stab at my sesame chicken without taking a bite. “That’s surprising. Sometimes I think Milo likes me, but other times…I don’t know. It’s like he’s afraid of getting too close to me, or he’s not sure. He just goes back to shrugging and mumbling, and I feel like he just wants to be friends.”
Celia’s snort shakes her body once before settling into a round of muttering laughs.
“What?” I ask.
She shakes her head, still smiling. “Nothing.”
“Nothing? That’s all you’ve got?”
“Yep.” She goes back to eating her broccoli and beef with another shake of her head.
I’m not really sure what to make of that. She and Milo must have some kind of deal not to interfere with each other’s social lives. I don’t see why it would hurt for her to clue me in about what her brother’s thinking. Wouldn’t that only help him? I wish I weren’t an only child. Maybe I’d understand this apparent sibling secrecy thing. Knowing that getting Milo to be honest with me will undoubtedly take my figuring out what’s keeping him at a distance in the first place makes me wonder what else Celia is willing to hide for him.
“Why did you guys move down to Albuquerque? Milo doesn’t seem very happy about it, so why did your parents bring you guys here?” I ask.
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