Mo is notoriously tight-lipped about crushes. I think she feels weird about being the only one of us three to never have had a boyfriend.
“Mo, do you want to tell me something?” I wish I could find a more playful way to ask, but when your head feels like a rock concert—and not in a good way—it’s kind of hard to be cute.
“I really don’t,” she says, ducking her head.
I smile. “Don’t worry, I see what this is,” I say, nudging her with my elbow. I so badly want to ask who the lucky guy is, but I don’t want to push. She’d tell me if she wanted me to know.
She shakes her head. “It’s not like that. And you haven’t answered the question. Why Jason?”
“You know, you’re always so hard on him, but he’s never done anything to hurt me.” Other than break my heart, I don’t say. “He’s a good guy.”
“How do youknow,though?” Mo asks, passionate. “Someone isn’t good just because everyone says or thinks they are.”
She’s called me out on this before: The truth is that Jason is the king of Sterlingwood High partly because he’s white. He’s attractive and smart and athletic and all the things a good all-American boy should be. Would a Black guy with all those attributes be considered the same? Absolutely not, and none of it is wasted on me.
I could be just as biased as everyone else.
But it’s also more complicated than that because Jason just happens to be, like, the peak of everything good in our town. He volunteers and goes to church with his parents and gets good grades and rarely curses. He likes me. I like him.
My headache is intensifying, but I give a shaky smile. “I’m not going just off what everyone thinks. You know my dad was a big romantic, right? I don’t think anyone had as many relationships as he did. I don’t need to tell you how they all went,” I say, feigning a laugh. “But he did like to say, ‘Love is what you do when no one is watching.’ When nobody was around us, Jason was still a complete gentleman. And that’s how I know.”
Mo sighs. Wistfully, I think. My head is hurting so much now that I’m squeezing my fist like it might help.
“You’re sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?”
“My mom will take me if it gets worse,” I promise, trying not to flinch with each road bump Mo flies over. When we get home, of course my mother isn’t there. I’m surprised I have the brain space to feel embarrassed about the stark contrast of our cold, quiet place in comparison to the warmth of Mo’s always-bustling house.
Mo is waiting with me till she gets a ride, so I pull out glasses of water for us and swallow some Advil covertly.
“Hey, you finally posted the ring on main!” Mo exclaims as she looks through her Instagram.
“Oh, yep. Thought it was about time,” I say, but my brave face is starting to wobble. “Do the walls look funny to you?”
“What?” Mo glances over at me like I’m crazy. “The walls are fine.”
But around me, the furniture is disappearing, and the ground feels like it’s crumbling underneath me. I know immediately what’s happening, so I make an excuse to go to the bathroom. Once I shut the door, I sink down onto the floor and try not to die. Seconds later, the walls around me are gone.
Fourteen
I’m on a boat.
Given how ill I’ve been feeling, its bouncy movement should technically have me regurgitating everything I’ve eaten. Instead, the pain in my head vanishes as a new world comes into focus around me.
I’m on a spacious motorboat with a distinct front and back section, separated by a large wooden deck space. The front area has standing room as well as two seats for the driver and a passenger, while the back has two parallel rows of leather seats. On the outside, the boat is white and huge.
I’ve only been on something like it once.
“So what do you think of theApostle?” Jason asks, looping both arms around Zadie’s waist as she stands at the helm of the boat.
Other Zadie leans back into him, grinning. “I think I might like your boat better than I like you.”
Jason kisses the top of her head. “Wow! The truth comes out.” He looks good as always, but it’s particularly windy today and a day of tubing and swimming and other hijinks has left him looking uncharacteristically disheveled. I remember finding it endearing and special, like I was one of the few people in the world who knew Jason inside out.
I remember it being an unseasonably warm day for this time of year, and I want to enjoy the romance of this moment, to swingright into the memory, but something is missing. I realize for the first time that these dreams would feel entirely different, lonely, if it was just me reliving past memories.
“Marcus!” I say as soon as I spot him standing a few feet away, staring out at the lake. I can’t help my smile.
We’reon a boat.
