Page 225 of Forever Never

“As in masonry?” he asked.

“As in durable. Strong. Stoic.”

“Our dad’s in jail,” Spencer announced.

“Spence.” Will sighed. How in the hell was he supposed to make a fresh start if his brother was just going to tell everyone all about their past?

“I’m sorry to hear that. I hope it’s a nice jail.”

He blinked. This girl was something all right.

“Will—I mean, Brick says we shouldn’t talk about it because people will think we’re tainted or something,” Spencer said, shuffling his weight from foot to foot.

“Well, that’s just silly,” she announced. “How boring would it be if we all just went around pretending to be perfect? It’s things like your dad being in jail or me seeing music that make us interesting.Interestingis way more fun than perfect.”

Spencer looked confused, like he had an inkling he was in the presence of a sage philosopher and had no idea what she was talking about.

“How do you see music?” Will asked, more surprised than she was that he’d asked.

“It’s called synesthesia and it’s neurological. It means my brain makes extra connections to certain things. So to me, the letter S is yellow, and when I hear music, I see colors moving around like a light show at the same time.”

“So, your brain is like broken?” Spencer asked, frowning.

“Spence.” Will cuffed his brother on the back of the head in exasperation. Great. Five seconds with a pretty girl and his idiot brother had called her brain-damaged.

“It’s okay, Brick,” Remi said, waving the offense away. “It’s not so much broken as it’s like adding whipped cream to a hot fudge sundae. That sundae is pretty great by itself, but add the whipped cream, and now things are getting really good.”

His brother managed to wrangle an invitation to Remi’s house for his own popsicle. “You coming, Brick?” she asked, waving to his grandmother on the front porch.

“Maybe some other time,” he said. He watched them go, watched the way the sun hit that red hair and made it look like fire.

“I see you’ve met some of the locals,” his grandmother said, handing him the watering can so he could reach the hanging pots of ferns.

“Remington Honeysuckle Ford. She looks like trouble to me.”

“Oh, just get to know her. You’llloveher,Brick,” his grandmother predicted.

Maybe this place wouldn’t be so bad after all.