On the nightstand, Hope’s phone vibrated, rattling the jewelry she’d dropped there a few hours before. She typed a hurried response and activated her phone’s flashlight, leaving the bed and padding quietly to the bedroom door. As her hand touched the doorknob, Luke’s voice cut across the silence.
“Sucker.” He was propped up on one elbow, face sleepy and amused. “You know she only calls because of the French fries.”
Hope smiled, moving back to his side of the bed. “I don’t mind,” she said, placing her palm on his bare chest. “She’ll have her license soon. And then college. There isn’t much time left.”
Luke’s face softened. “You want me to go too?” He yawned, mouth open wide like a bear.
“No way.” Hope touched his cheek. “You’ll ruin girl time.”
At the door, Hope paused to tap a small white picture frame mounted above the light switch, twice. For luck.
“She has you wrapped around her finger, you know,” Luke called.
“I know.” Hope blew him a kiss. “So does her dad.”
“She doesn’t get me at all,” Charlotte said, popping a piece of gum in her mouth. “If I tell her anything, she uses it against me. I have no privacy.” She let out a long, theatrical sigh, punctuated with maximum adolescent exasperation.
“It’s a scary world out there.” Hope glanced in the rearview mirror and changed lanes. “All parents want to protect their kids.”
“You don’t know my mom. And I don’t need protection.” Charlie cranked the air conditioning and tapped her blue fingernails on the dash. “Were your parents like that? Nosy?”
“We didn’t exactly have open lines of communication.” Hope turned down the air. “Remember, I’m first generation. If it wasn’t about getting into Harvard or becoming a lawyer, it wasn’t discussed.”
“So you were a big disappointment,” Charlotte said.
“You have no idea.” Hope laughed.
“Can you help me with my essay on Hamlet?” Charlotte asked. “It’s due Tuesday.”
“Of course,” Hope said, pulling into the parking lot of the Burger Shack. It was the only place open all night, thus the de facto home to anyone within a twenty-mile radius who was hungry or high, or both. Charlie called it the Stoner Shack, but even so, she couldn’t deny their chili cheese fries were transcendental. Years ago, it had been a kitschy fifties diner, but today the only remnants of the former Shake, Rattle, and Roll were the defunct jukeboxes welded to the tables.
They stepped from the car, Hope locking it with a beep and a flash of headlights. Charlie led the way across the pavement, walking in a wide circle to avoid a kid throwing up in the bushes.
“I don’t know why she isn’t like you,” Charlotte said, holding the Stoner Shack door open for Hope. “Relaxed.”
“I’m far from relaxed,” Hope said. “I have the luxury of not being your parent. I just get to be your friend.”
“Aww,” Charlie held her right hand out, fingers and thumb curled into half a heart. Hope matched it with her left.
Their plastic cups were nearly empty, though the silver tumbler on the sticky laminate table was still brimming with Oreo shake. The plate between Hope and Charlotte contained only a few soggy fries, a generous pile of chili and cheese, and a puddle of ketchup.
“Straight out of the fryer,” Charlotte said, returning to the booth. She set a fresh basket of fries between them, spots of grease soaking through the paper lining.
“Perfect timing,” Hope said. She ran a fry in a zigzag through the chili and ketchup.
“Oh no, now you’re doing it too?” Charlotte said.
Hope tilted her head. “Doing what?”
“Making patterns with your food.” Charlie made a face. “Is that a two?”
Hope studied the paper plate. “I never realized I did that.”
“You guys already share one brain. And the looks . . .” Charlotte mimed gagging. “You act like you’re my age. Cringe.”
A gaggle of boys entered, calling loudly to one another and jockeying for position at the counter. One was the kid formerly puking by the entrance, but he looked recovered. Another peeled off from the clump, pausing by Hope and Charlotte on his walk to commandeer a booth.
“What’s up, Charlie?” he said shyly.
Charlotte’s cheeks reddened, and she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Hey.”
“I thought you’d be at Brody’s tonight.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. The kids around here usually had two distinct auras—money or no money—but Hope couldn’t tell with this kid. He didn’t have an air of entitlement, but he didn’t seem like a townie either.
Charlie crumpled her napkin into a ball. “I had to study. We can’t all be gifted like you.”
“I can help you tomorrow.” The boy glanced over his shoulder at the crowd filling their sodas. “I mean, if you want. If you’re not busy.”
Charlie flipped her hair. “I’m not busy.”
Hope pulled on her straw noisily.
“I’ll hit you up tomorrow.” The boy backed away with a wave.
