Kai beams as he lifts up his left arm and flexes his biceps. He’s far from the thick-as-a-brick muscles you expect from comic book heroes, but the bulge in his upper arm is still impressive enough to make me gulp.
“Made it myself,” he says with a wink. “Took all of my summer job money and a few fights with Grandma’s sewing machine, but I think it was worth it.” He gestures to the spider emblem on his chest before looking up at me and quirking a brow, as if looking for approval.
“Definitely worth it,” I say around a laugh, body as light as air within just a few seconds of seeing him again.
The sweetness of the moment is soured when I spot a group of kids in matching Minecraft costumes headed our way, heads bowed together as they whisper to one another—their eyes focused on me. In the rush of seeing Kai in his costume, I hadn’t noticed that my hood had fallen away from my face. I quickly yank the hood back up, plastering on a too-tight smile for Kai and nodding my head toward his car.
“Ready to go?” I ask, hoping I don’t sound as desperate as Iam. I can feel the heat of the kids’ eyes on me against my back. They won’t do anything. They never do. But just because they aren’t lunging at us doesn’t mean they can’t still hurt me.
There’s no way Kai doesn’t know about me, my family. Yet I’m still holding my breath for the moment he decides I’m not worth the effort. That one day he’ll hear the whispers and see the way people glare at me and decide that he thinks I’m a monster, too. But for now, he just nods and says, “Here, let me take your bag.”
After tossing my bag into the trunk, Kai heads to the driver’s seat, and I’m prepared to slide in beside him up front, but a small white box is sitting on the seat. Kai picks it up before I can accidentally squash it, the flush returning to his cheeks once I’ve sat down and closed the door behind me.
“I know it’s been almost two weeks, but I had to get you something,” he explains before handing the box to me with a sheepish smile.
With my heart hammering in my chest, I delicately pull open the lid on the box, unsure what I’ll find—bracing myself for a prank but hoping for the best. Nestled between layers of wax paper is a purple-and-orange-frosted cookie shaped like a bat. Above it, a marshmallow speech bubble with “boo!” written in chocolate frosting.
“Happy belated birthday,” Kai says as I stare down at the cookie in open-mouthed shock.
I only snap out of my daze when he nudges his arm against mine, the simple touch making my skin ignite so suddenly I nearly jump out of my seat.
“You’re not allergic to nuts or gluten or anything, are you?” he asks with wide-eyed concern. “I definitely should’ve asked you that first.”
I shake my head softly, answering him by taking a bite out of the bat’s left wing. It’s delicious. Perfect. And as I break off a piece of the bat’s other wing to share with Kai, watching him accept the offering with a smile that never fails to light up my day, I know that I didn’t make a mistake coming out tonight. This weekend, and all its risk, will be worth it.
7
I’m used to silence. At home. At school. At the table I sit at by myself during lunch. But silence with Kai is different. Softer. Comfortable. At first I’m worried he’ll be able to hear how hard my heart is pounding and how deeply I inhale every time he so much as switches on the turn signal, but once he hooks up his phone to the car’s Bluetooth and queues up a playlist he says he listens to on his runs, I relax into my seat.
Ten minutes into the playlist I realize how painfully out of touch I am. My Spotify is a relic from our old life. Songs Papi would blast while he cleaned the bathroom on weekends, or that he used to motivate his teams while they ran laps. Oldschool salsa and eighties ballads. Songs I stole off Joel’s playlist that I would play through my headphones, head against the window, pretending I was the star of a moody teen drama.
Joel always had the best taste in music. The best taste in general. Even living in a house with so many rules, so closed off from everything, Joel managed to find other ways to experience the world. He was an artist, like Kai, but he preferred paints over pencils. And instead of heroes fighting crimes, he painted landscapes and detailed portraits—the places he dreamed of going one day, the people he thought he might meet. He also loved show tunes even though we knew our family didn’t havethe money to see a show on Broadway. But he loved how much emotion they could pack into a single song, how loudly they expressed themselves. He made the most of what our small, cramped world had to offer.
Thankfully, Kai’s playlist is a very different vibe from Joel’s, keeping me from getting lost in bittersweet memories. It’s more high-energy, perfect for exercising, but I like the way the songs make me feel even just sitting down in a car. They’re infectiously upbeat, like Kai himself.
We drive all the way to the edge of Millcreek. Past the road we usually turn off when we go to visit Papi, and toward the woods Mami always warned me to stay away from—like I could’ve gotten this far on my own. Still, her warning echoes in my ears as I swallow hard and sit up straighter.
Kai must notice my sudden nerves, lowering the music as he turns onto a narrow dirt road. “The others bailed on the dance so they’re probably already up at the house by now,” he explains. “You’ve met my sister, right?”
I shrug tightly. The closest Kiki and I have come to interacting was me stepping out of her way when she waltzed to the front of the cafeteria line earlier this year. “Sort of,” I reply diplomatically. “Not officially.”
“She’s great,” Kai says quickly, shooting me a smile before turning his attention back to the road. The car rattles as it drives over bumps and loose twigs, not helping the nausea building in my stomach at the thought of having to face Kiki and her friends. “And I’m sure she’ll love you.” I shoot Kai a skeptical look. “Seriously!” he insists. “I know she puts on this whole bad bitch act at school, but trust me, she’s a huge softie.” He slows down the car enough for him to lean across the dash and whisper, “Still sleeps with a night light and plushie.”
I hold back a snort. The image of Kiki Thompson, star cheerleader and queen bee, sleeping with a stuffed animal and a butterfly-shaped nightlight is as absurd as me taking her place on the top of the cheerleading pyramid.
“But don’t tell anyone that,” Kai warns. “If she finds out I told, she’ll murder me. And maybe you, too, so keep it quiet.” He winks before holding his pinkie toward me. “Swear?”
I don’t bother holding back my amusement as I slide my pinkie through his, ignoring the sparks that jolt through me when our fingers link. “You’re too fun to get killed off,” I reply with a smirk.
Kai beams, looking away from the road just long enough to meet my eyes and make my heart beat in triple time. He opens his mouth, but whatever he plans to say next is cut off by my phone buzzing in my lap. We both jump slightly in surprise, our hands whipping back to our respective spaces as I glance down at my phone.
Mikey.
Shit. Did Mami figure out I was gone already? Did he crack and tell her what I’d done—where I’d gone? I whip around to scan the back window of the car for any sign of Mami’s SUV.
“Everything okay?” Kai asks as we turn off the main path onto a new, narrowly curved dirt road.
We’re suddenly shrouded in darkness—thick clusters of trees blocking the last dregs of sunlight. The incoming call cuts off abruptly as I lose service. The car lurches over a large hole in the dirt road, which Kai quickly mumbles an apology for. If I didn’t trust him, this would be the moment I’d realize something was wrong. Where I’d run away. But I don’t.
