“Homonyms?”

“Right. Like a homonym. There's chemistry, and then there's chemistry.”

“But…those are still just the same word.”

Peter scowled. “Okay, so Mrs. Harper's English Comp class was a long time

ago. My point is chemistry can be chemicals and reactions and so forth but…”

He took her hand. “It can also mean something intangible between two people.”

“So. What's between us?”

“Right now, your extremely attractive business dress and this itchy tuxedo.”

“No, Mr. Tangible, what's between us?”

He didn't say anything for a moment. “Nothing that we shouldn't have

already put behind us.”

A new song started. Another slow one. They were almost intertwined now.

“Peter, I don't want you to take that Chicago job. They need you here. It's where you belong.” She waited, breathless.

“I've come to the same conclusion myself.” His face moved closer. “Besides,

it would still be too far away from you.”

Kate's chest pounded. “Really?” They'd stopped moving. She lifted up

slightly on her toes. “So…how far away do you want to be?”

“This far.” Peter pulled her close, cupped her face, and kissed her.

The students and teachers cheered. Carol and Lucius cheered. She thought maybe even the stupid stars and birds and crickets cheered.

“Peter?” His arms were still wrapped around her. It was definitely a

homecoming.

“Hmm?”

“I'm tired of being afraid. It's tiring, you know?”

“I agree.”

“It's so inconvenient. I think maybe we should stop being so afraid.” She twirled a lock of hair by his ear. “Maybe we should trust each other a little more.

Maybe we should just throw bunches of leaves up into the air and see where they

blow. Maybe we should drink some pie shakes.”

“That's a lot of maybes.”

She smiled as she moved towards those blue eyes again. “Maybe.”

The second kiss was even more cheer-worthy, and the crowd of students

obliged.

“It's getting crowded in here,” she said.

“I agree. C'mon,” he said. “I have something to show you.”

* * *

Peter led her by the hand through the gym and to the back door of the school, the

door she used to take on her way home from school. He pushed it open, and she

walked through.

The day had decided to be sunny. The pea gravel she remembered was gone,

replaced with wood mulch. The ground was scattered with orange and yellow leaves, a fall breeze blowing a few in tiny whirlwinds.

He passed her and took her hand again. She wanted to ask where they were

going, but she just followed.

It was only a few steps until she realized he was taking her to The Tree. The

Tree was their childhood rendezvous point, their secret playhouse up until third

grade. She'd bring her Barbies, he'd bring his whatever robot thing he was

fixated on that week. So long ago. She looked up. It was still huge, its arms stretching over almost the whole playground. Some of its leaves still clung to branches, fluttering sunlight on her face.

He walked her behind it, then stopped, turned, and took her other hand. He

drew in a deep breath. She exhaled shakily.

“Katie Brady, I've decided I super-love you,” he said.

Super love? Her note…

“I love that you danced with me even though everyone was watching. I love