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Mama Michaels grins. “We have so many cute baby pictures of you and Holden. They’re just too good not to keep hanging.”
“We didn’t know each other when we were babies.” I raise an eyebrow at Holden.
“Well, you’restillbabies in the grand scheme of things,” she says, sliding out of her chair and rushing from the dining room.
“Here we go!” She comes back with a black picture frame and shoves it into my hands. “Look at how cute you two were!”
My stomach drops. I hope Corrine didn’t see this when she came over.
In the photo, a little version of me—definitely around thetime when Holden and I became friends, so maybe I’m eight—kisses a little version of him on the cheek. He’s smiling like an idiot, his oversized backpack slung on both shoulders, the slack tucked in his tiny fists. I’m wearing a baby doll dress that Corrine would die to get her hands on, if she could somehow manage to fit into a child’s clothes.
Holden huffs out a laugh, his warped eyebrows only showing a bit of annoyance. “What was this, third grade?”
“First day,” his mom says, sitting down and placing her chin in her hands. “I remember how Trevor cried and cried, because you two were going to school all day, but he had afternoon kindergarten and had to wait to leave.”
“He didn’t know what was waiting for him,” I say, handing the picture back to Mama Michaels with care. She doesn’t seem to be resentful when she talks about her other son. “Growing up is a nightmare.”
“I want to grow up more,” Mara says, crinkling her napkin between her palms. She wiggles her eyebrows at Mama Michaels. “I want some real boobs—”
“Okay,” Holden says abruptly.
“Boobs aren’t that great.” I say while Holden shakes his head. “Sometimes they get in the way of things.”
“Well, yeah, I don’t wanthugeones like yours, just, like, the size of Corrine’s maybe.”
Now things get even more awkward. Holden tenses beside me.
“Who’s Corrine? Someone you go to school with?” Mr. Davis asks, frowning at his daughter, though half of it is hidden by his bristly brown mustache.
Mara looks at Holden and then to her dad. “No, Holden’s ex-girlfriend.”
“She means my prom date,” Holden says in a clipped tone.
“Oh yeah,” Mama Michaels says, gathering our plates. “She was so cute. Whatever happened to her?”
I sit there, mouth clamped shut, with my hands clenched. They don’t know Holden and Corrine dated? They were together formonths. Their relationship lasted longer than the loose McDonald’s French fries I lost somewhere in my mom’s car, and neither of them bothered to delete their photos together off Instagram; like, it was legit. I was worried about my trace in the house and Corrine’s never even been here? Maybe shedidn’tknow Holden had sisters. Maybe she didn’t know much about him at all. MaybeIdidn’t know much about them as a couple.
That’s too much not-knowing for me. I want toscream.
“Things just didn’t work out.” He shrugs. “I already had a girlfriend anyway.”
Now I’m just reeling, teeth gritted. Is he referring to the other girl Corrine mentioned? Was he bringingheraround here instead of my best friend? How am I supposed to keep my mouth shut when there are so many lies, so many questions that need asking. I am a question asker! I must—
“I knowyoudidn’t respect the fact that I was your boyfriend, but I stayed loyal.” Holden nudges me with his elbow.
“Excuse me?” There’s not a word strong enough to articulate my confusion, or my anger. Is he making a joke about being loyal in a relationship? When he’shimand I was literally cheatedon? I’m all for a bit of story editing when necessary, but this is just a plot twist that’s come out of nowhere.
Mama Michaels coos. “Aw, that’s right. You two were each other’s first love.”
“Excuse me?”It’s not like she knew about the incident at the party, the reason we stopped being friends. Holden wouldn’t have told her that. Or would he? It’s starting to become quite apparent that while I knew Holden of yesteryear, I do not know the one sitting next to me. It’s terrifyingly possible that he told her all about when our friendship started to change, when I started caring about how my hair looked in front of him, or if my legs were shaved before we hung out. All the little things that I tried to be subtle about but added up into a huge crush. They probably had a ball, laughing at me.
“I asked you to be my girlfriend when I was, like, ten and you accepted.” Holden rests his arm on the back of his chair, facing me. “Remember? You liked my light-up sneakers and sharing my Hershey’s Kisses at lunch.”
A laugh bubbles out of me, partly in relief and partly because I do finally remember it. “I had bad judgment as a kid. We know this.” I whisper, “Tooth fairy.”
He rolls his eyes, a smirk on his mouth. “You never did break up with me.”
“Should we do that now?”
