“The littles?”
I chuckle. “That’s what I call them. Right, littles?” I turn down to face them, and they erupt in giggles.
“Ah.” He nods. He keeps wiggling his nose like he’s about to sneeze, and his whole face is soaking.
Shoot. I shouldn’t be leaving him on the porch. “Uh, do you want to come in?” I ask uncertainly.
He nods, shivering. “Thanks, that would be great.”
“Sorry,” I say as he steps inside. “I should have asked right away.” I close the door behind him and mutter to myself, “I’m an idiot.”
“Idiot! Idiot!” Tabitha shrieks. And then Talulah joins in, and my two adorable sisters are dancing around the living room screaming the word idiot.
I have a friend over. He’s a boy. The kids are not asleep. And, apparently, I’ve just given them permission to use the word idiot. I’m so never getting to babysit again.
“Girls, I didn’t say that word. I said …” What sounds like idiot? Shoot. Shoot. I stare at Yoshi, pleading with him to figure something out.
“She said idiom!” he jumps in, and I raise my eyebrows at him. Idiom? “It means an expression,” he says, shrugging.
Which makes no sense at all, and yet, at least now the twins are dancing around screaming idiom.
Except now Lilou is awake. Shoot.
“Talulah, can you please get Yoshi a towel to dry off?” I ask. “Tabitha, do you know where Daddy’s big sweatshirts are?”
Tabitha shakes her head, her eyes wide, as though she has no idea what any of those words mean. Meanwhile, Talulah has grabbed Yoshi a … dishcloth from the kitchen. Sigh.
“Yoshi, the bathroom is just down the hall,” I say. “I think it would be easier if you just grabbed a towel yourself.”
I only realize I’m doing the bobbing-up-and-down dance when Yoshi stares at me like I’m a creature from an alien planet.
I’m not a creature from an alien planet. I’m a big sister/babysitter who has three awake charges, the boy she maybe has a crush on right in front of her, and no peace in sight.
This is not good.
Finally, I put on a TV show for Talulah and Tab (bad babysitter) and whisper through the bathroom door to Yoshi, my friend-who-is-a-boy-who’s-over-while-my-parental-units-aren’t-home (bad babysitter), that I’m going to try to get Lilou to sleep. And then I try to calm my racing heart as I settle into the rocking chair in the girls’ room with Lilou.
The trick with rocking Lilou to sleep is pretending you don’t care either way. You just happen to be sitting there, just happen to be holding her little body close to yours, just happen to be moving back and forth. It still takes her a while to stop straining toward the door and listening to figure out what might be happening out there. But after a few minutes, her breaths have evened out and she’s making that sucking sound with her mouth like she’s dreaming of milk.
I love Lilou. She still has that delicious baby smell. I snuggle her close, then put her into her crib.
When I make it out to the living room, I’m so calm I feel almost blissed out. Which is why I barely react when I see that my sisters have abandoned the show I put on for them. They’re now perched on either side of Yoshi on the couch as he reads them a story.
I’ve never seen my sisters pass up a TV show for anything. Except maybe presents on their birthday.
If they notice me take a seat on the armchair beside them, they don’t give me a sign. I curl up on the chair, pulling the scratchy afghan on top of my knees, and listen to the old Greek myth that Yoshi is reading from my dad’s mammoth collection, the one he used to read to me when I was little. Yoshi’s voice is so deep, so calm, that even I am lulled half to sleep as he spins tales of gods gone rogue, turning on one another and the humans who live in their time.
I don’t know how much my sisters understand, but there’s something about the tone of his voice, the lilting quality of his speech, that makes it mesmerizing.
And before I know it, he’s closing the book and I realize that the girls are sleeping. Each of them leaning against either side of Yoshi, pinning him in place. When he catches my eye, he smiles wryly, and my cheeks flush. Because if I didn’t notice the story ending, the girls falling asleep, clearly I also …
I really hope I didn’t drool.
“I can try to move them,” I say, my voice cracking from lack of use. I definitely fell asleep. Shoot. Shoot. Shoot.
“That seems like tempting fate,” he says quietly.
We sit in the quiet living room, sleeping littles around us. I glance over at Yoshi and he sends me a tiny smile, like he’s both smiling and not smiling at the same time.
“Why are you here?” I ask him.
His eyebrows go up. I’m such an idiom.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I try again. “I’m glad you’re here. I mean, I’m glad—”
I have no idea what I’m glad about. Right now, probably just that he isn’t laughing hysterically at me.
“Sorry. I meant, why did you come to the door before? Were you looking for my dad or Shannon? Because they aren’t here.”
Thanks for that, Captain Obvious, I think.
“I got locked out of my house,” Yoshi explains with a sigh. “My folks are stuck up in Kildare for the night. The streets are too icy to risk them coming back here right now. And your dad and Shannon said that if I ever had a problem, I could …” He shrugs.
“Of course,” I say. “Of course.”
Of course. Not a problem at all. Yoshiki Pennington is sitting in Dad’s living room.
We are alone here. No problem at all. Because we’re just friends. It’s like being here with Lark.
The lights flicker, and we immediately look at each other. No. No. No. No.
“Do you have candles and flashlights?” Yoshi asks.
Thankfully, yes. “My dad has an extensive collection. He’s pretty well prepared for things like this.”
Paying for college, not so much. But blackouts are no big deal.
The lights flicker again. If I’d been alone, I’m quite sure that I would have panicked and prayed that Dad and Shannon were close to home. But having Yoshi here makes me feel braver. We spring into action. We get a pile of candles and matches, flashlights and extra batteries, and warm blankets for the girls. I check on Lilou, who is sleeping soundly in her crib, and cover her with a fuzzy blanket. I come back out to the living room to see that Yoshi has even dug up the wind-up radio I remember using as a toy when I was little. It still works.
When the lights do go out, it isn’t as much of a shock. We cover the twins with the blankets, and they remain sleeping on either side of Yoshi as he sits down between them again. I huddle back under the blanket on the chair.
“Are you okay?” Yoshi asks when we’re all settled in.
I sweep the room with my eyes. The candles keep the darkness at bay, but they also provide a lovely glow. It’s almost like you can’t see all the mess, the disorder, in the dark. Everything is muted.
“I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t shown up,” I say. It’s both an answer and not an answer, and he doesn’t seem bothered by that.
“I’m sure you would have figured everything out. But I can imagine it’s nice to have an extra pair of hands.”
I want to tell him that he’s been much more than an extra pair of hands, but I don’t know how to string all those words together so that they come out well.
“You probably wish you were in your warm house, where you don’t have to have the littles draped all over you,” I say instead, trying to insert chuckles at the appropriate moments.
“I don’t,” he says. I can’t quite see his expression in the candlelight, but I hear the truth in his words.
“What’s it like to be an only child?” I ask before I think better of it. Mom always says that you need to be careful with personal questions because you never know what they’ll unearth. I’ve heard her talk about what it’s like to be the host of an inn, w
here your job is to be friendly and polite, but where you need to dodge the landmines you might not even realize are there.
Yoshi shrugs. “I’ve never known anything different. I have no idea what it’s really like to have siblings. I guess there are some things that are good about being an only child and some things that aren’t great. I never have to fight with anyone about what game to play or what movie to watch or who has to clear the table. But, if my parents aren’t in the mood for a game or a movie, there’s nobody to hang out with me. What’s it like having so many siblings?”
I think hard instead of just giving him a pat answer. “It’s weird,” I finally admit. “On the one hand, I have my sisters. But I don’t live with the girls full-time, so it’s different. And plus, we might have the same crazy dad, but Shannon and my mom are so different. Even though the girls are so small, they’re already as different from me as Lark is. And then on top of that, I’m an only child when I’m at Mom’s house. And in some ways, I feel like an only child because there’s nobody else who has my kooky, laid-back dad and my uptight, proper mom. And who has Thierry as this brilliant chef stepdad and Shannon as a hippie stepmom. I’m this odd combination of all these people but …”
I feel like I’m babbling. I’ve never said these words out loud, and I’m not even sure that I ever knew I thought them. There’s something about Yoshi and the darkness and quiet and the sleeping littles that makes the whole scene feel surreal. And simple.
“I get that,” he says. “I think everyone feels a little out of place sometimes. But maybe for people like us, without siblings in a conventional way, it’s a lot more intense.” He chuckles. “Though I have the added bonus of being the only person with a Japanese mom and British dad, who grew up in Southern California and got uprooted to move literally across the country.”
There’s a strain in his voice, and I try to think back to the reason I heard for why Yoshi and his parents moved here. But I can’t remember.
“Did your parents move here for a job?”
He nods, a motion so small that it almost seems like it didn’t happen. “My mom is a pediatrician. And apparently there’s only one other in town?”
“Right, because Dr. Pine retired last year.” Dr. Pine was a great doctor, not one of those who told you no candy and no screens. “Mom loved her because she was no-nonsense. She believed in moderation, and that most things could be cured by more exercise, more sleep, and healthier food. But she wasn’t fanatical about it.”
Yoshi laughs so quietly I almost miss it. “Not sure how she’ll feel about my mom, then. She’s a big believer that everything can be solved by cutting out sugar and wheat.”
“No!” I shudder. I’m glad we’ve already switched to Dr. Zwiebel.
“However, she’s won all sorts of awards for her research and for some of the programs she’s developed to fight childhood obesity.”
I want to ask him what he’s allowed to eat at home, but it seems a little too personal. Even though we’re sitting in the dark, surrounded by the littles, in my dad’s house.
It’s crazy.
“Your dad does the weather on WVVW, right?” I ask. I’ve seen Mr. Pennington, handsome and dapper, on our local news station.
There’s a long pause, and Yoshi’s voice is quieter when he answers. “Yup. He’s a meteorologist. When we lived in San Diego, he worked at a big TV station.”
I feel like I’m missing something, that his tone and his words don’t match.
“Does he miss the station in San Diego?” I ask.
“No. Definitely not.” This time, his words are a little more forceful. “WVVW is a much better fit. He gets to report on the weather without all the …” He pauses, and I don’t interrupt the silence. “Without all the politics.”
His words sound practiced, almost like a script or something he’s heard so many times that he’s repeating it. But I don’t know where the landmines are, so I don’t ask any more questions.
I focus on the sound of the ice falling against the windows. Too bad it’s not snow.
“What do we do if the power doesn’t come on soon?” Yoshi asks before I can think of how to respond to his statement about his dad.
“Have you never been in an ice storm?” I ask.
He shakes his head. His eyes are focused on the kitchen window where tiny pings of ice are hitting the glass. It’s odd to think that he’s probably also never been in a snowstorm.
“Well, we have a ton of firewood, so we won’t get too cold. This isn’t that unusual. I mean, it sucks that it’s nighttime, but at least we don’t have to figure out how to entertain the kids without screens. And my dad’s car has four-wheel drive, so as soon as it’s safe enough, he and Shannon will be home.”
“Do you know how to make a fire?”
I nod. “I mean, I’d rather if my dad did it. I think he would, too. But if I needed to? Absolutely. Everyone in Flurry knows how to.”
The wind howls outside, but it’s a familiar sound. This is just winter in Vermont.
“Will you teach me one day?” Yoshi asks.
“To make a fire?”
He nods.
“Sure. Or maybe my dad can teach you. He’s the expert. Unless your dad—”
“He doesn’t know how.” The words are sharp. I don’t know how to reply, but luckily, it seems like Yoshi isn’t waiting for me to, because he continues. “It feels so dumb. We’re here in this small town in Vermont that is known for being super outdoorsy, and we can’t do any of that stuff. We all swim, and we surf and barbecue. In California, we’re just like everyone else. But here in Flurry? My parents don’t know how to build a fire. We don’t snowboard or ski or skate or …”
His voice has trailed off, like he’s run out of steam.
“I could teach you all that,” I say slowly. I’m not sure it’s the right thing to say, if that’s what Yoshi would want. Maybe he’s just looking for someone to understand why he feels like a fish out of water. Maybe he wants to go back to California or …
“I’d like that,” he whispers, and my heart aches. Because I’m in such trouble. I’ve had crushes before, but nothing has been like this. They’ve been fleeting, and on boys who often didn’t even know I existed. It’s easy to have a crush on someone who can’t possibly return your feelings.
But Yoshi? What happens when you have a crush on someone who’s a friend? Do you risk the friendship on the possibility he feels the same way? Or do you tell yourself that friendships last much longer than crushes do?
I have no answers. So we sit still and listen to the wind and the icy rain, with the candles flickering all around us.
* * *
Dad and Shannon make it home before the house even starts to get cold. This house is so well insulated (thanks, Dad!) that we were probably good for a few more hours at least.
While it was really nice just hanging out with Yoshi, I’m relieved to see Dad and Shannon come through the door.
“Yoshi!” Dad says, sounding pleasantly surprised. “What happened?”
Yoshi explains how he was locked out and his parents are away for the night. He also explains that he and I know each other from school.
Shannon gives me a small eyebrow raise and a half smile, as if she senses something, and I try not to blush. But I also know that she sees us surrounded by the sleeping littles and realizes that everything has been totally innocent.
But even just thinking that makes me blush more.
Dad builds a small fire in the fireplace while Shannon carries the littles to their beds. Then Dad makes up the couch for Yoshi to sleep on. I say good night to everyone and head to my room. I can’t stop thinking about the fact that there’s a boy—a boy I like—sleeping in my living room. A boy who brushed his teeth in the bathroom I use. And yes, there are two grown-ups and three littles in the house with us but …
There’s something about the whole thing that gives me goose bumps. Because I’m not sure I really have a choice about my feelings for Yoshi a
nymore.
I climb into bed and pull the covers up. It isn’t until I’m almost asleep that I realize that in all the time Yoshi and I spent talking and hanging out tonight, we never even discussed the festival. I barely even thought about it.
And the town council meeting is tomorrow.
I have never had so much trouble eating breakfast as I do this morning with Yoshi at Dad’s house.
I mean, seriously? Who knew I had to concentrate on getting the fork to my mouth? Usually, it just gets there on its own. But today, it hits every spot except the appropriate destination. Same with the cup of orange juice. Thankfully, the power is back on, so at least something feels normal.
“So, I was thinking about the festival when I was trying to fall asleep,” Yoshi starts as we clear the table. I trip over the area rug that’s been in the kitchen ever since I can remember. Luckily, I don’t drop anything. I can’t think of Yoshi trying to fall asleep on my couch. It’s just too … weird.
“Uh-huh,” I say, trying for noncommittal.
“I know the town council is going to make whatever decision they are going to make. But I was serious when I told you I’d help you with planning an alternate solution.”
“That would be great,” I say. “Maybe we can work on it today? I mean, since the meeting is tonight and …”
Wait. Is this kind of like asking him out? On a date?
“I mean, whatever.” I start to ramble. “Totally fine if you can’t. I can also …” Someone please stop me. Where are my ever-present sisters when I actually need them to interrupt? Why do I suddenly wish I could take out my phone so Yoshi and I could text back and forth instead of talking?
“Let’s do it!” Yoshi’s voice is full of excitement, and I feel a bit better. Except I’m still not sure if he’s just excited to plan for the festival, or to spend more time with me. I wish I could text Lark to ask her advice. I guess I’ll see her tonight at the council meeting.
“Yoshi,” Dad says, coming into the kitchen with his phone. “I just talked to your parents and they’re still not back in Flurry. You’re totally welcome to stay here until they return.”
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