“You did?”
“Just a mini. Fifteen minutes in the woods, which was kind of awkward.”
“Use protection,” I say.
“It wasn’t all the way, sheesh. I saidmini.I’ve been a monk this year at Hidden Beach,” says Brock. “You’re not supposed to like, sex it up when you just got sober.”
“Don’t say ‘sex it up.’ ”
“Except maybe if you’re married or something. Then you can sex it up. Also, Agnes played footsie with me in the hot tub.”
“You’re terrible.”
“I’m delightful,” he says. “Wait, do you think I’m a butt?”
“Not usually. But maybe last night.”
“Do you think Jia likes me?” asks Meer. “She’s so pretty. But I don’t think I made a good impression.”
“You told her you like boys,” I say. “So I don’t think it matters.”
“I think I only looked at her because of the rum,” says Meer. “Or because I never meet anyone. It was confusing.”
My eyeballs feel like they’re made of liquid fire, but I stagger toward the eggs and take the lid off the butter dish. “Let me have some banana goop,” I say to Tatum.
He pours me a glass. I drink the whole thing down. It tastes like sweet moss.
While Tatum pours out the rest of the goop for himself, Meer, and Brock, I crack eight eggs. I add heavy cream and salt, then scramble them in butter.
I slice the bread June baked and toast it in the broiler.
When the food is ready, Tatum has gotten both Meer and Brock to drink their goop and persuaded them to relocate to the dining room.
As I put a plate of toast and eggs in front of him, Tatum looks up at me. “Thank you,” he says. “I mean it. I know you feel terrible, too.”
He reaches out and touches my hand. A flame runs through me. The gesture feels like an apology and a spark, the start of something I don’t understand.
I am not sure if I forgive him.
“We should see them again,” says Meer. “When my head is attached to my body. I love Holland.”
“I don’t think so,” says Tatum.
“You’re so antisocial,” I snap, my irritation from last night coming back full force. It’s not even logical, because when Tatum actuallywassocial, talking to Winnie and Amma and Agnes, I didn’t like it at all.
“I’m not,” he says.
“You are.”
“I don’t care about seeing them,” says Brock.
“Let’s totally see them,” says Meer. “Maybe June will let us have them over outdoors? Like when Gabe came to dinner. Or we can meet up on the beach.”
“Let’s absolutely not,” says Tatum.
“I’m going back to bed,” I say. “I got up on the wrong side of it.”
“Matilda, don’t,” says Meer.
