He laughed. “You have a way with words, Isla.”
“Where’s Topher?” I asked, looking around.
“He ditched me for a chick in his study hall about twenty minutes ago.”
“What a guy.”
“He’s not too bad. Most of the time.”
I nodded neutrally. We leaned together against that brick wall, the silence feeling neither long nor short. But a quiet that didn’t bother us.
He suddenly laughed again, this time harder.
“What’s so funny?” I half grinned.
“I was just thinking about that one summer we tried to sell Moni’s scarves on the street corner.”
“When we were trying to save up for a puppy?”
He rubbed the back of his head, smiling. “Yes. And how mad she got.”
“And how Ada got even madder when we tried it again, with her garden tools.”
I began to laugh so hard with him, my eyes squinted shut. He chuckled hard, his shoulders heaving up and down. When I opened them, he was staring at me. I wiped a tear away.
“I don’t remember the last time I laughed that hard,” he said.
“Yeah . . .” I found my voice drifting off. My hand instinctively reached up and started to pull on my hair, stroking it a few times as it draped down my shoulder.
Sawyer leaned forward, like he wanted to reach out and touch my hair, an urge in his eyes, maybe even a bit of longing. His mouth closed and he retracted.
“See you back in there?” He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. It was awkward and endearing all at once.
I mimicked his movement and he laughed again.
In the morning, I pulled open my desk drawer that jammed and never opened all the way. I reached in the back and felt around until it hit my hand. I rolled it forward with the tips of my fingers and held it up.
The shiny knight figurine. He had dropped it that first day we met, the day he moved in across the street. It had fallen in the grass, and I don’t know why but I took it. Every day since then I had meant to give it back. But I would tell myself, one more day. One more day and I’ll return it to him.
“What’s that?”
I snapped the knight into my hand and whirled around to find Marlow standing in my room.
“Nothing. I’m cleaning out my drawer,” I answered hastily.
“Really. What is it?”
She started to move behind me, but I stuffed it in my back pocket and sat on the bed.
“Marlow. It’s really nothing. Can you leave now?”
She giggled. “Why are you being so secretive? I thought we didn’t have secrets.”
I felt warm, my face reddening as if I had opened an oven.
“Just . . . leave it. Okay?”
She looked down at my lap, as if trying to determine if she should wrestle me for it. “Do you like keeping secrets from me?”
Her face looked serious, forlorn even.
“No . . . this isn’t—Marlow, this isn’t a secret. Can you please respect me and give me some privacy?” I snapped.
She stared at me, then backed away, shrugging, and left my room.
Sawyer and Oliver came over for dinner again Sunday night. Mom laughed as Dad shook his head.
“Don’t you kids get fed at home?” Dad joked.
“Yes, Mr. Baek. But who wants to eat at home when you can eat at Moni’s?” Oliver slurped in a few japchae noodles and sank his fork into a mushroom.
Moni beamed as she brought over more dishes. “No, Moni food not that good. You only that hungry.”
We went to the basement after everyone had finished eating. Oliver and I played ping-pong while Marlow brought a stack of CDs down from her room.
“I missed the dance. So I’m bringing one here.” She put a disc in the boom box and hit the “Play” button. Savage Garden’s “Truly, Madly, Deeply” floated out of the speakers.
“It wasn’t a dance,” said Oliver, hitting the ball with his paddle. It bounced on my side and off the table.
