by Donna Cooner
She pauses, looking directly at me. “I wish we had more paid internships to offer, but it’s very competitive. There was another girl who has applied for the past three years. She’s worked really hard and we felt it was her time.”
I nod. That makes sense. Even though it isn’t the outcome I’d hoped for, at least I have some closure now.
Senator Watson stands and holds out her hand. “I hope you’ll apply again, Skye. Next year could be your time.”
* * *
After signing up for several upcoming volunteer activities at the senator’s office, I leave feeling hopeful. I get into my car, take a deep breath, and then turn on my phone for the first time that morning. Immediately, a string of texts pops up on the screen.
EMMA: I’M SO SO SO SORRY.
EMMA: CAN WE TALK? PLEASE.
EMMA: SKYE? JUST TALK TO ME.
I turn off my phone again. But then I sit there in the parking space with my foot on the brake, staring at the string of silver and gold beads dangling from my rearview mirror. They catch the sun and shoot light across the dashboard like they are trying to send me some kind of signal. Emma gave the beads to me last New Year’s Eve. That night, she put them around my neck just before midnight and then we cheered in the new year—blowing our glittery paper horns and shaking our noisemakers. I blink.
If I look over my shoulder, there will be a black hoodie on the floorboard. Emma keeps it in my car because she always gets cold, even in the middle of summer. There is a book in my backpack I borrowed from her and promised her I’d return, and the earrings I’m wearing are the gold hoops she gave me for my last birthday. I put them on this morning without even thinking about it.
Emma is everywhere.
When my dad left, I tried to shut most people out. If it meant not caring about anyone, then I was determined to spend my life not caring. But Emma had this sneaky little way of squirming right into my hardened heart. She’d meet me halfway between our two houses by the Millers’ mailbox. We never actually met the Millers. We never even saw them. But somehow they became a part of our lives. When one of us got there first, we’d just hang out by the big pine tree beside the mailbox and wait for the other. Then we’d hike down to the lake and go paddleboarding. After a while of balancing and drifting, we’d eventually end up just lying on the boards and floating. And talking. About everything and about nothing. Emma called it “paddling it out.”
It always made me feel better.
I drive around for half an hour before I finally end up in Emma’s driveway. I need to do this face-to-face. No texts. No ChitChats.
When Emma opens the door, her hair is a tangled mess and her face is red and blotchy from crying. She stares at me, uncomprehending. “You came.”
Like last night, I almost feel sorry for her. Almost.
She steps out onto the porch. “Can we talk out here?”
I nod. We sit on the front step, not close enough to touch, and I wait for her to speak first.
Emma sighs. “Please believe me, Skye. I was never going to actually share the screenshot. I just wanted to see how you would react.”
“So I really was some kind of research project?” I cry out, turning to face her. “You can’t direct people’s lives the way you direct a movie—throwing in a plot twist here or a broken heart there.”
“I was going to email you my screenplay. I thought maybe it would help you understand,” Emma says. “But when I saw you posted the screenshot, I knew I’d gone too far. I should have told you a long time ago.”
I pull my knees into my body and wrap my arms around them tight.
“Have you ever just wanted something so bad, you did a really stupid thing?” Emma asks quietly.
Haven’t we all?
“I know you feel like you’re always in between Asha and me—in the middle. But Asha is always first.” Her voice breaks. “So what does that make me?”
I don’t know what to say. My thoughts are whirling.
Her voice is bitter. “The bottom. The last. The worst.”
The pain in her voice surprises me more than all the other things she’s done. I swallow hard. Is that how she’s felt? All these years? How did I not see this?
“But you’re Emma Middleburg,” I argue. “You’re gorgeous … and talented and …” I almost say it, then stop myself. Perfect is a lie.
“There are people walking around everywhere who are hiding something they don’t want others to know about their lives,” Emma says.
I think about Asha and her mother. I think about me and the screenshot. I remember what Emma said, about her parents arguing. I glance behind us, back at her house.
Emma rocks back and forth nervously. “I’m leaving this summer, Skye, and I’m not coming back. At least not for a long time.”
I turn back to her, annoyed. “Don’t be a drama queen. Of course you’ll come back. It’s just a trip to New York. This is your home.”
“Sometimes home changes. I’m going to go live with my aunt.” The words land solidly out into the empty space between us. “There are people in my life I can’t help. I can’t do anything to make other people better, so I have to make me better.”
My anger melts just a little. I have to make me better, too.
“I’m sorry. Can you ever forgive me?” Emma’s looking at me now, her tears spilling over onto her cheeks. The guilt struggling across her face is terrible. She stands up, her hands hanging loosely by her sides, waiting for me to say something.
A sudden panic makes me want to wrap my arms around her, pushing everything else away. But I’m not there yet. I may be someday soon. It will take some time.
Instead, I stand up and reach out, squeezing her shoulder.
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “But I will work on trying.”
She nods, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. “I get it. I do. Maybe you could come visit me in New York this summer?”
“Maybe,” I say. Then I walk down the porch steps and open my car door. I take out the black sweatshirt from the floor and back seat and hand it to Emma. “Here you go,” I add. “In case you get cold in New York.”
“Thanks,” Emma says, smiling at me through her tears.
I give her a nod and turn away quickly. Then I get in my car and drive off, fighting back my own tears.
After finishing her last day of work at Kmart, Harmony steps off the bus in Old Town with a smile still lingering. She looks down at the photos Ryan just posted on ChitChat, all tagged #wellmissyouharmony. She’d never had a party thrown in her honor before.
She thinks for a moment about checking in at the gas station and maybe saying hello to Matthew, but decides she can do without her usual Diet Coke and doughnuts for today. Besides, she’s still full from Millie Johnson’s three-tiered cake, red velvet with cream cheese frosting—her favorite. It was the hit of the break room.
Suddenly, an email dings onto her phone. She opens it and starts to read.
Thank you for your interest in a Habitat Home.… We here at Habitat for Humanity believe everyone should be able to have a safe and affordable place to call home.… Your application was exceptional.… We are very happy to inform you of our decision to select your family as the next Habitat homeowners in Fort Collins.…
Harmony gets to the end of the email, then reads it again, stopped full in the middle of the sidewalk and oblivious to the people grumbling around her as they try to avoid running into her. Finally, she raises her head and closes her eyes, face up to the sky, taking it all in. For a long minute, she stays like that, letting the crowd stream around her.
* * *
Days later, when Harmony has settled into her bedroom—her new bedroom, that she will share with her mom—the first thing she does is sit down on the edge of her bed and take her phone out of her pocket. She logs on to ChitChat and types a message for the whole Galactic Network to see.
HARMONY CHECKED IN AT HOME.
That night, the doorbell rings, and it’s Ryan
. When we were working the morning shift earlier, we made plans to watch a movie at my place.
He walks in wearing jeans, a red T-shirt, and a black hoodie, and he’s carrying a tinfoil-covered pan. My face instantly feels hot, which is silly since I just saw him earlier today. He looks so good standing there, running a hand through his dark, spiky hair. My heart beats a little faster.
He hands me the pan while dodging Cassidy’s enthusiastic greeting. “My grandmother made taisan. It’s like a Filipino chiffon cake. Topped with melted butter and sugar.”
“Yum. Thanks. We can have some after the movie.” I take it from him and walk into the kitchen, putting it up on the top of the fridge so Megan won’t find it first. “How’s your grandmother doing?” I ask when I rejoin Ryan in the living room.
“Better. She’s moved from Elvis songs to Dolly Parton. Always a good sign.”
I smile. “And the ghost?”
He shrugs, and the corners of his mouth turn up. “Still there as far as I know.”
We sit down on the couch. I start to reach for the remote, but Ryan clears his throat, looking nervous. I start to feel nervous, too.
“What is it?” I ask him.
“I have something else for you,” he says. He pulls out a red shiny package with a bright yellow bow on top from the pocket of his hoodie.
“For me?” My mouth falls open. “But it’s not my birthday or anything.”
“Don’t worry. It’s just a little something I thought you might like,” he says.
I glance up at Ryan and see a smile in his eyes, but I also see something else. There is something in those brown depths that makes my heart thump. It feels like a fresh start.
Sparks. Tingles. Possibilities.
Slowly, I unwrap the present, tearing away the glittery paper. Inside is a small silver frame that contains a photo of me. It’s a picture Ryan took on the day we went snowshoeing, but I don’t remember posing for it. I’m caught unaware, not trying to impress anyone. I’m kneeling on the snow and Cassidy is wrapped in my arms. We are both smiling happily, but only one of us has a tongue hanging out of her mouth.
While I’m still looking at the photo, Ryan says, “I have a confession to make.”
I glance up, confused. “What?”
Ryan doesn’t meet my eyes. “I was really proud of this picture, and I wanted to show it to you … but with all the screenshot stuff happening, I didn’t know how you’d feel.”
“I understand,” I say. “But it’s not like you shared it online.”
Ryan shakes his head. “I did show it to Harmony, though. I wanted her opinion. But that’s all.” He swallows. “I wanted to be sure you’d like it.”
My heart swells. “I love it,” I say. I glance back down at the picture. “It’s beautiful.”
“Like you.”
I look back up at Ryan. The first time he told me I was beautiful, I was too upset to even process it. Now I hear him. Ryan meets my eyes and I catch my breath. The air is so sparky between us I feel it could catch fire at any moment.
I can’t look away. He’s so close. It leaves me feeling light-headed. There is something between us that is new and fizzy and oh so appealing. The best part? I can tell he feels it, too.
I nibble on my lower lip nervously and Ryan’s gaze drops from my eyes to my mouth. Then I surprise us both by doing something I’ve always been afraid to do before—I make the first move. Leaning in, I kiss him full on the lips. Soft. Tentative. When I pull away, I can see the surprise on his face. My head feels buzzy and I can hardly breathe. I feel the color flush up in my cheeks.
What happens now?
“I’ve been imagining that kiss for a very long time,” Ryan whispers, and I realize I have, too. He cups my face with his hands, his eyes roaming my face. Every nerve in my body is tingling.
He finds my mouth and kisses me again. I melt into his body.
This feels so different from when Luke and I would kiss. But different in a good way. In the best way.
“Hello?” Megan is standing in the middle of the living room with her hands on her hips. “Are we going to watch a movie or are you guys going to just make out?”
I jerk away, heat rushing into my face, but Ryan just laughs. He gives me an additional quick kiss on my lips for emphasis, even though Megan is still standing right there in front of us.
“Come on, Megan. Give a guy a break.” He grins, leaning back against the cushions of the couch. He keeps one arm firmly around my shoulders. “You get the popcorn and we’ll start the movie, okay? What do you want to watch?”
She rolls her eyes and stomps off toward the kitchen. “Definitely not a romance.”
My mom comes into the living room then, wrapping a bright-blue scarf around her neck. Mom has met Ryan before when she’s picked me up at the store, and she greets him with a warm smile.
She’s wearing a beige cabled sweater dress that hits just at the top of her coffee-colored Frye boots. Her hair is softly curled around her shoulders and she has on pink lipstick that I’ve never seen her wear before.
“How do I look?” she asks nervously, and gives a small twirl for our benefit.
“Great,” I say, and she does. It’s hard to believe she’s going out on a date, but I can see how happy it makes her. It’s funny, but she didn’t meet this guy on the internet. It all happened the old-fashioned way. They met at Alleycat when he made her latte and they started talking. Totally old school.
“We’re just meeting at the coffee shop,” she says. “Mike’s not even picking me up or anything.”
“I get it, Mom. It’s totally casual,” I say. “Have fun.”
She gives Megan a quick hug, then waves good-bye to me and Ryan. Megan goes into the kitchen, Cassidy following along behind, and I can hear the microwave start up. In minutes there is popping and the smell of fresh popcorn.
I lean my head on Ryan’s shoulder, thrilled by how comfortable I feel with him. I pick up the remote and turn on Netflix, flipping through the options.
“How about a comedy?” Ryan says.
“I don’t know,” I reply. “I think I’m in the mood for action. Maybe even superheroes.”
Ryan grins. “Cool. Wait, I texted you some suggestions earlier. Did you see them?”
“Nope. My phone is upstairs.”
Ryan’s eyebrows rise. “Do you want to go get it?”
I shake my head. “I’m good without it. I’m thinking maybe I need a bit of a break from the whole Galactic Network thing. Besides, I’ll never be here again in this moment in time. I don’t want to miss anything.”
“Interesting.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket and turns it off. “Hey, Megan,” he calls.
She pops her head out of the kitchen. “What?”
“Can you put this in the pantry for me?” He holds out his phone over the back of the couch.
“Okay …” Megan walks over and takes it from him. “Why?” she asks, confused.
“We’re playing a game.” He smiles at her. “No phones allowed.”
“Can I play?”
“Absolutely,” he says, and Megan happily goes back to the kitchen to supervise the popcorn.
Ryan turns to me. “Should we discuss Democracy in America? I actually finished the book,” he says proudly.
“I’m impressed.”
“Or better yet, why don’t you tell me what you volunteered to do at Senator Watson’s office.”
“So you’re saying we should just … talk?” I laugh.
He nods. “Exactly.”
I risk a sideways look at Ryan. He’s smiling. I lean my head back on his shoulder. He takes my hand in his and slips it deep into the warmth of his sweatshirt pocket. Our fingers intertwine.
Megan comes back from the kitchen, dropping kernels of popcorn along the way like bread crumbs from Hansel and Gretel. Cassidy happily cleans up after her. Megan sits down on the couch, hands me the big bowl of popcorn, and I snuggle closer into Ryan.
“What are we tal
king about?” she asks.
“Changing the world,” I say.
TO DO:
PUT YOUR PHONE AWAY
SHOW EMPATHY. SAY, “ME TOO.”
MAKE EYE CONTACT
LEAD CONVERSATIONS WITH A COMPLIMENT
SMILE MORE
For every life window posted on any screen, there is always more to the story. This book was inspired by those stories and the hope we can recognize the truth behind the screenshots with empathy and kindness.
First, thank YOU for reading. No book is complete without a reader.
Special appreciation to my agent, Sarah Davies at Greenhouse Literary, who watches over my literary world with brilliant attention and expertise.
Thank you to my editor, Aimee Friedman, whose editorial direction and support have changed my writing and my life. Thanks to my Scholastic dream team of experts who bring each book to life and then deliver them to the hands of readers with amazing care—especially David Levithan, Tracy Van Straaten, Rachel Feld, Isa Caban, Olivia Valcarce, Yaffa Jaskoll, Rachel Gluckstern, Kerianne Okie, Maria Chang, Jessica White, Rebekah Wallin, the entire Sales team, everyone in the Clubs and Fairs, and so many more.
Thanks to my writing friends, who make me laugh and lift me out of the depths of creative angst. I am so amazed by their inspired talent and kind support: Veronica Rossi, Talia Vance, Bret Ballou, Kathi Appelt, Debbie Leland, Beth Hull, Robin Fitzimmons Meng, and Kristen Held. Special gratitude to Katherine Longshore for her early reading and thoughtful editorial feedback. Much appreciation also to my work colleagues and friends who support this crazy writing dream—especially Karmen Kelly, Karen and Greg Rattenborg, and Wendy Fothergill.
Thanks to my family for being my first readers and biggest supporters. I love you all so much and am so incredibly blessed by your encouragement and unconditional love.
Thank you to my husband, Jay—my travel companion, my adventure partner, my fierce protector, my best friend, and my love—for sharing your Filipino culture with this story and for answering many questions along the way. Mahal na mahal kita. You make my creative life possible.