That thought added to the weight on my shoulders, sinking me further.
In ten minutes, I was keying in the code to the gate of Biscayne Park. The neighborhood was definitely a rich one, with heated driveways and interior marble floors. Calm, like silence lived between the walls rather than actual people. It was always funny to me that even though our houses were only a short walk away, they could be so drastically different.
I let myself into my best friend’s house, trying to be as quiet as possible in case Nellie’s dad was still sleeping. Their house was silent, and I padded my way up the staircase, opening the first door in the short hallway. Nellie’s bedroom.
Empty. Her bed was neatly made, and her lights were off. I looked to the corner where she normally kept her backpack, finding it missing.
“Goody two shoes,” I muttered under my breath, backing out of her room and crossing the hall to the first door on the left. Her twin brother’s room—my other best friend, Jamie.
And there he was, still in his bed, fast asleep.
Shutting the door behind me, I tiptoed deeper inside. Jamie had left the curtains to his window open, and sunlight from the east-facing window streamed into his room, casting a spotlight on the floor. His glasses were on the nightstand beside his bed, and he was on his back, lips parted in sleep. His dark brown waves fell out of his face, tousled and tangled as if he’d spent the night tossing and turning.
I crouched down at the edge of his bed, fingers braced on the edge of his mattress, watching him sleep. Itsounded creepier than it was, truly. I just had the sudden urge to see how long it’d take him to feel my stare.
Jamie and Nellie were twins, but sometimes it felt like I was their triplet. Like we were all just one unit, and everything felt easy and normal. We were all weird in our own ways—Nellie was a walking dictionary, Jamie had a borderline freakish obsession with literature, and I liked to draw people dying in the margins of my homework sheets—but I’d found a second home in them. One that didn’t leave me feeling like I was losing my mind.
I counted down the seconds it took until Jamie would look over, and I’d startle him awake.
He was soboywhen he was sleeping. His expression was relaxed, open, and he wasn’t wearing the scowl that seemed to always be wrinkling his brow. He kind of reminded me of a sleeping Theo, just without the drool. Peaceful. If I drew people I knew—which I did not—I’d draw Jamie just like this and title itSleeping Bookworm.
In the end, it only took thirty seconds for him to sense my presence. Jamie drew in a deep breath and then rolled onto his side, facing me. His hand fell onto the mattress, narrowly missing my fingers, but his flexed as if he could sense them.
Jamie drew one breath, let it out, and then opened his eyes.
His eyes were a soft brown, with a darker ring around the iris and deeper flecks throughout. Eyes artists would’ve loved to draw. They latched immediately onto mine, and I expected Jamie to jump at my surprise appearance, but he didn’t move. He didn’t blink. I didn’t even think hebreathed. He stared at me long enough that I started to wonder if he was one of those people who slept with their eyes open.
“Am I dreaming?” Jamie asked finally, voice low and rough. He’d spoken softly, almost like the words were just for him to hear.
I rested my chin on my knuckles and tipped my head to the side. “Seeing me is like a dream?”
“More like a nightmare.” Jamie blinked, and the strangeness of his stare was gone. He rolled back onto his pillows, casting his gaze up at the ceiling. His chest rose sharply and fell slowly. “Because you crouched at the side of my bed is definitely giving horror movie.”
“Rude.” I planted my knees. “Where’s your sister?”
“If I had to guess within thirty seconds of waking up—and no concept of what time it is—I’d say school.”
“What? Why?” I sat on the edge of Jamie’s bed to peer down into his face. Jamie hadn’t always had glasses, but he’d been wearing them for so long now that it was almost strange to see him without them on. “It’s Skip Day.”
“She’s going for the perfect attendance award, remember?” Jamie tried to draw his blankets up to hide his chest—as if he were half-naked and not wearing a graphic tee that saidClassics are Classicwith a stack of books on it—but since I sat on the duvet, he could only tug it up an inch. “From kindergarten to senior year. No way would she throw it all away for a day of nothing right before our last day.”
I’d forgotten Nellie was going for perfect attendance. Some of the wind evaporated from my sails. “I don’t wanttoday to be a day of nothing. I want it to be fun. I want to do something fun.”
Jamie looked at me. “Like what?”
An unsteady sort of anxiety went through me. Again, I had no idea. I had nothing to do until the kids got home from school, and I wanted—needed—to get out of the house. Besides, today was like a holiday. I needed to make itepic.
My silence drew on too long. “Wake me when you decide what you want to do.” Jamie grabbed one of his other pillows and placed it over his face. When he spoke next, his voice was muffled. “Or just go have fun by yourself.”
He was tense, though. Waiting. Bracing. Jamie was funny when he acted like this. Grumpy and complaining, but like the back of my hand, I knew him.
I leaned down closer, so close that my face was only a few inches away from the pillow. Tucking one finger underneath the edge of it, I slowly lifted the cushion until I could see Jamie’s face. His eyes were still open, and they found mine immediately. “Come play with me.”
I hadn’t realized Jamie’s hand had still been near mine until his shifted, and his fingers overlapped my own. His were so cold against my skin that I jumped a little. “Can I have five more minutes?” he asked.
“Only if you scooch over.”
He grumbled, but ended up shifting a couple more inches toward the middle of his bed so I could lay beside him on top of the blankets while he stayed underneath. “You’ve never heard of personal space, have you?” he asked, straining to put at least an inch between us.
