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The best quality about me—other than my ability to burp the ABCs—was that I was so comfortably weird.
I swallowed hard as I watched the sun start to rise outside and then I nudged Jax in the arm. “Hey,” I whispered. “It’s time to get up.”
Jax stirred and grumbled and stirred some more. “Five more minutes, Ma.”
I smiled, because he was funny when he was dreaming. I nudged him again. “I’m not your mother, Jax Kilter. Get your butt up before you’re caught in bed with Kennedy Lost.”
That got him to open his eyes—real wide. Those wide, delicious chocolate eyes.
He looked at me then around at my sleeping bunkmates and shot up from lying down. “I gotta get out of here before anyone notices.”
“Yeah, that’s why I woke you, duh.”
He stood and brushed his hand under his crooked nose as he picked up his wet clothes from the night before.
I stood, too, and smiled big at him. Mama always said smiling makes other people feel like smiling, too. “Smiles are contagious, Kennedy. Spread yours like a wildfire,” she’d always said. So, there I was, in front of Jax, cheesing harder than I’d ever cheesed before.
He arched an eyebrow and brushed his hand through his messy hair. “What are you doing?”
“Smiling.”
“Why?”
“So you’ll smile, too.”
He blinked. “Oh.”
I tossed on my pink hoodie and slid my feet into my sneakers. “If you want, you can come talk to the birds with me.”
“Birds don’t talk.”
“Yes, they do. You’re just not listening closely enough.”
“You’re so weird, Kennedy.”
I smiled bigger. “Thanks, Jax.” I scrunched up my nose. “Hey, is your name just Jax or is it longer?”
“It’s Jaxson, but only my mom calls me that.”
“Jaxson,” I sang. “Oh, I like that more. I like calling people by their longer name. Like Matthew, or Nicholas, or Samantha. My dad’s name is Tim, but Mama calls him Timothy. She said longer names are sosipcated.”
“You mean sophisticated,” he corrected.
I narrowed my eyes. “Say it again, but slow.”
“So—phis—ti—ca—ted,” he dragged out.
“So—phis—ti—ca—ted,” I echoed, smiling big at him. “Thanks. Sometimes I talk so fast I get tongue-tied and my words come out wrong, and other times I just don’t know the right words, and it’s helpful when someone is around to give me the words I meant, so thank you.” I took a deep breath. “Hey, can I call you Jaxson?”
“No!” he barked, a wrinkle forming on his forehead. “I told you—only my mom calls me that.”
“Wow.” I shook my head. “Your mom is so lucky. So, do you want to?”
“Want to what?”
“Go talk to the birds?”
“Does your mind always do that?”
