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“No,” Holden answers for me.
I raise an eyebrow. “Excuse you. Yes, she can. I’m great with kids. Kids love me. They have no filter and I have no filter.”
“That’s exactly why I don’t trust you to give her good advice,” he says. “Don’t you remember your tooth fairy scam?”
Of all the things he could have said, I was not expectingthat. A little bit of tension falls to the cutting room floor.
“What tooth fairy scam?” Mara asks.
“Saine convinced me to tie floss around my teeth so she could pull them out.”
“It’s not my fault you went along with it.” There was so much blood.
“I went along with everything you said,” he says, grip tightening on the wheel. “You nearly pulled out one of my permanent teeth. I still have nightmares about it wiggling.”
“Okay, well, in my defense, I thought that teeth were like fingernails. Like, I thought your teeth would just keep growing in, and that we could keep getting money from the tooth fairy and never have to get jobs.” I glance between him and Mara. “I thought it was a genius idea! I was looking out for us.”
“This is why I don’t want you giving her advice.”
I wave away his comment and turn back to his sister, hating the tingle of familiarity that story gave me. I can feel it, like I’m standing on the edge of an abyss, how easy it would be to fall into old habits. To not have to speak to each other through this concrete wall we’ve built.
“What’s up?”
She latches onto the end of her braid, brushing her hair over her palm. “Well. See. This girl in my classes, Rose? Rose is reallypretty and she dresses super cool, and whenever she has white chocolate macadamia nut cookies, she splits them with me andonlyme at lunch, and she knows everything about stars, like black holes and moons with smaller moons—they’re unofficially called moonmoons. The other day, she grabbed my hand—like held it—during lunch—under the table, but still—but then I saw her hugging Delilah by her locker, and I’m not sure if I should like her anymore because liking her now makes me feel awful.”
I blink. “Rose sounds like a real bitchif she did that to you.”
“Saine,” Holden hisses. “She’s twelve.”
“But seriously.”
“Where was this conviction with Elijah?” he asks gruffly.
I glare at him, but he keeps his eyes on the road. “I didn’t have a chance to use it before you punched him.”
God, it was so embarrassing. Everyone saw it and everyone knew what it was about. I could have punched him myself if that’s what I wanted to happen. But nooooo, Holden had to go all alpha male.
“Corrine told me to!”
“Oh, and you do everything she tells you? No! Or else you would have fucked yourself by now.” I mumble the last part, but—
“Saine.”
“Who’s Elijah?” Mara asks quietly. “What did he do?”
More likewhodid Elijah do. And the answer to that is everyone. It’s been almost six months and my anger still does a back handspring in my gut at the thought.
“She’s twelve,” Holden reminds me in a low voice.
“I’m nearly thirteen,” she interjects.
“He was my...” I try to think of an appropriate metaphor or whatever, even though twelve-nearly-thirteen is old enough to know about sex; I mean, she’s had to have had the same subpar sex education that Holden and I struggled through in, like, fifth grade by now. Twelve-nearly-thirteen is middle-school-aged. “He was my singing partner. We used to... duet.”
Holden must pull a muscle with how fast he turns his head to stare at me wide-eyed.
“Duet,” I enunciate. “We sang together.” We never sang afull song together, though, if you catch my meaning.
“And then he started singing with a choir,” Holden adds. “Without auto-tune.”
