2. Dylan #2
“Thank you, sweetheart,” she says, eyes and voice soft like a hug.
I hover for another second until she takes pity on me.
“Adrian’s in the treehouse, setting up for the sleepover,” she says.
I’m already on my way before she’s even finished speaking.
“Thank you!” I yell over my shoulder. Her laughter follows me through the yard.
I find Will and Harriet at the treehouse, as well as Adrian.
Will is fourteen, and lately he’s started to act as if he’s too cool to hang out with us when he’s around his own friends, but none of them are here now, so he seems to be back to his usual self for tonight.
Harriet is only ten, but she can run as fast as any of us and has a wicked right hook.
“Check it out,” Adrian says once I’ve climbed up. “We have all the good stuff: marshmallows, candy, chips, and mini chocolate bars, and we have a whole cooler with sodas.”
I look around at the setup, but then my face falls, and my heart sinks to the bottom of my stomach. “I forgot my sleeping bag. I don’t think my aunt will let me come back if I go looking for it now.”
Adrian pats the blue one behind him. “No worries. We can share.”
Relief washes through me, and I drop down next to Adrian.
I nudge him with my shoulder—a silent thank-you-for-always-having-my-back—and he nudges me back, a luminous smile on his face.
That’s just Adrian. According to Mr. and Mrs. Olsen, Adrian came into the world smiling and has never stopped. I believe them.
I’m kind of a worrier myself. I get stuck on stuff and overthink, letting things play in my head on repeat, but Adrian’s always so chill about everything that just his presence usually calms me right down.
Our feet are dangling over the edge of the treehouse floor, and Adrian hands me a bag of chips and a bottle of soda. I knock my soda against his. The plastic makes a dull thunk , and we grin at each other.
He dips his chips in mustard, which is disgusting. I eat mine plain. For a while, the only sounds are crunching, tree leaves rustling in the soft breeze, and the faint noises of adults speaking somewhere in the distance.
“How was Will’s band?” I ask. “Are they any good?”
Will and his friends have been practicing for the past six months and none of us have been allowed to hear them play.
Will’s been insufferable about the whole thing, talking about all the gigs they’re going to book and looking all self-important.
Adrian and I have been pretending we don’t care, but we’ve both been deadly curious.
We tried to talk Will into letting us audition for their band too, but he said we were too young.
Then we decided to start our own band, which made Will let out a derisive laugh, and that kind of took the wind out of our sails.
“It was great,” Will says loudly before glaring at Adrian. “We made connections. Connections are everything in the biz.”
Adrian’s eyes shine, and he’s practically vibrating on the spot.
“Somebody called the cops,” he says gleefully.
I scrunch my nose with sympathy when I look at Will. “You were that bad?”
Adrian roars out a laugh that eventually turns into squeaks when he runs out of air. There are tears in his eyes by the time he’s done.
“Some people just don’t get art,” Will says sourly.
“Is that what it was?” Adrian asks.
“It’s punk revival. We’re bringing it back. You just don’t get it.”
“Sounded more like noise to me,” Adrian says. Will’s nostrils flare, and he tackles Adrian. The two of them roll across the floor, wrestling and huffing.
It happens a lot.
I didn’t get it at first. I don’t have any siblings, so I’ve never been a part of this kind of relationship, where fists fly one moment and then you shake it off and forget about it in the next.
“Get off me,” Will pants.
“You started it!”
“Buttface.”
“Jackass.”
It goes on for a little while longer before they both land on their backs next to each other with twin huffs.
“You ruined my hair,” Will grumbles.
“I did you a favor. It looked stupid,” Adrian says.
Will looks like he’s about to go for round two, but then Harriet, who’s been quiet the whole time, coughs and makes a gurgling sound at the back of her throat.
She puts down the half-eaten chocolate bar, then looks up, her whole face pale. “I don’t feel so good.”
Adrian rolls himself onto his hands and knees and then pushes himself up to his feet. “How much candy did you have?”
Harriet makes the gurgling sound again.
Adrian moves like lightning. “Over the edge.” He gently moves Harriet’s head so the vomit lands somewhere on the ground instead of in the treehouse.
She retches for a long time. Will hands her a bottle of water once she’s done.
“Better?”
She nods miserably. “Sorry.”
Adrian looks at me, then Will. “I’m gonna take her back to the house.”
Will shakes his head and takes Harriet’s hand. “I’ll go. I need to fix my hair anyway.”
They start to climb down, Will first, and Harriet after him.
“Don’t step in the puke,” Adrian calls after them.
“Stop talking about puke,” Harriet groans before she disappears from view.
Adrian shakes his head, then comes and sits down next to me.
“Every year.” He shakes his head.
After that we wait for Will, but he doesn’t come back, so once it starts to get chilly, we both climb into sleeping bags. Adrian gives me his and takes Will’s for himself.
The late summer night air is cool, but I’m toasty warm in my sleeping bag. It smells like Adrian, so every now and then, I breathe in deeply. It’s nice. Cicadas are chirping and overgrown grass whispers all around us. The night is filled with sounds now that we’re both quiet.
I’m getting sleepy.
“Hey.” Adrian pokes his finger in my cheek.
“Yeah?” I mumble.
“A falling star.”
I whip my head around to look where he’s pointing. I miss the one he wanted to show me, but there’s another a few minutes later.
“What did you wish for?” Adrian’s eyes are shining with laughter.
I turn my head toward him and look at his profile in the dark. “I can’t tell you or it won’t come true.”
I can see his teeth in the dim light of the two flashlights on top of the small table in the corner when he grins at me. “Oh, come on. That’s just a superstition.”
“So is wishing on a falling star,” I point out.
“Well, then you’ve got nothing to hide when it’s all just, like, in your head anyway,” he says smugly, like he’s just won an argument or something.
I hesitate.
“Come on. Tell me,” Adrian says. “Tell me, tell me, tell?—”
“I want to belong,” I blurt.
I don’t plan to say that, but it just comes out.
The sleeping bag rustles as Adrian turns himself onto his side.
“You want to belong?” he echoes.
I nod and stare at the dim ceiling, face on fire with embarrassment. I shake my head. “Never mind. That just… That’s not what I meant.”
Go, Dylan. You couldn’t have just been normal.
He pushes himself up on his elbow. “What did you mean, then?”
“I was thinking superpowers would be cool. I’d want to be able to fly,” I say quickly.
His eyes stay on me.
“Dylan,” he says sternly.
I lick my dry lips and refuse to look at him.
“I don’t have anybody,” I blurt.
The silence that follows that statement is deafening.
“I mean, Nina, but…” I squeeze my eyes shut and order myself to stop talking.
Fat load of good that does because my mouth just keeps going.
“I want to be part of a family. For real. I want traditions and movie nights and my own spot at the dinner table. But most of all, I want people. Lots of people. And… I don’t want to be alone. ”
I brace for him feeling sorry for me. It has to be coming after a pathetic word vomit like that. Surely. And it’ll feel like crap.
Instead, he punches my shoulder.
“What do you mean you don’t have anybody?”
It’s more the way he says it than the words themselves. It’s the confusion in his voice and the baffled tone, like he doesn’t exactly get what I’m even saying. Like it’s unthinkable that anybody would be alone in this world ever, which I guess is true for him.
The only way I can explain it is by muttering, “It’s just the way stuff is.”
That earns me another punch.
“Hey!” I rub the side of my arm.
He leans over me so his face is just above mine. “You’re one of us.”
And…
How can you argue with something said so sincerely? With no hesitation but lots of conviction.
You can’t.
You sort of just have to believe.