Chapter Six
Sean
Flora is thirty-seven minutes late, somewhere between the margins of “running behind” and “completely bailed.” It’s homecoming night, and, naturally, my car is in the shop. She offered to pick me up.
I smooth the collar of my shirt and adjust the cuffs of my blazer. It wouldn’t be so bad if I was waiting alone, but Lindsey is staring at the door, convinced that I’m bluffing about the “goddess from Instagram” being my date.
“She stood you up.”
“She’ll be here.”
“Text her!”
“I’m not texting while she’s driving.”
When the doorbell finally rings, Lindsey’s head snaps around so fast it’s a miracle she doesn’t sprain her neck. Through the window, Flora’s silver car gleams in the driveway.
“She drives a Mercedes?”
Before I can answer, Lindsey shoves past me and yanks open the door.
Flora stands there in a green dress, radiant in a way that makes my front porch brighter. Her eyes, somehow larger than usual, catch the light, and today they’re golden brown. With a wide smile she extends a hand to my sister. “Hi! Lindsey, right? I’m Flora.”
Lindsey gapes.
“I’ve been dying to meet you.” Flora’s smile doesn’t waver. “Sean told me you’re in eighth grade?” They shake hands, and then Flora’s eyes find mine.
I don’t even like dances, but Flora makes it feel like maybe I could. I can’t resist her even though my instinct tells me she’s more than I can handle. My heart reacts to her like francium—unstable, volatile, and probably ready to explode.
I should be thinking about homework. Basketball drills. Anything else. But here I am, caught in the orbit of someone who’s all shine and chaos. And her tanned legs are going to mess up my physics exams.
“Hi,” she half whispers, like we’re sharing some secret no one else could understand. Her eyes are half teasing, half innocent, like saying, You have no idea what you’re in for.
That does not help.
“You look incredible,” I say.
“Let me give you a tour!” Lindsey says, as if there’s anything remotely worth showing around our house, unless Flora’s conducting field research on the banality of middle-class charm in its most average form.
“I’d love that,” Flora says, “but let me say hi to your parents first.”
With that, Lindsey seizes her hand and drags her to the backyard.
As a weekend ritual, my parents are grilling hamburgers.
Dad looks up from the grill, wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, while Mom stirs a pitcher of lemonade at the table.
Flora introduces herself. “You have such a beautiful house. It’s so homey, and I love the art collage on your wall. ”
“Thank you, we add to it bit by bit over the years,” Mom says. “It’s so fun watching it grow. Are you excited for the dance?”
“Yes, especially because I’m going with Sean.” Flora flashes a quick glance in my direction, and my heart takes off. “I’m sorry for being late, by the way. Traffic was worse than I expected.”
Dad pauses midflip at the grill. “It happens. Friday nights can be brutal around here. Sean mentioned you live in that tall glass building near the interstate?”
Flora nods. “Yeah, the one shaped like a crystal. My parents call it the Shard, after the one in London.”
“The lighting must be gorgeous,” Mom says. “We remember when they first started building. It even made the news for bringing luxury high-rises to the suburbs.”
They don’t mention how those conversations always ended with What kind of people can afford living there?
and I don’t tell them I kissed Flora in her bedroom, and how it’s the only place in the house that looks lived in, like all the warmth in the universe has been drawn in and condensed into that one small space.
“Well, the view is nice,” Flora agrees. “But I love your sunroom, and this backyard is amazing! The smoke detector went crazy the one time my mom tried to cook frozen potstickers in our apartment. We don’t get to have outdoor dinners like this.”
“Did you get a chance to eat before coming over?” Dad asks. “Anyone feel like having a burger?”
“I’ll have one!” Flora says without hesitation.
To my horror, my dad slaps a patty into a bun and hands it over with the barbecue clamps. Grease glistens on the surface as Flora reaches for it.
“Let me get you a plate.” Her dress is way too nice for this.
She shakes her head. “Burgers are to be enjoyed with hands.” With that, she takes a bite and munches. “Hey, Mr. Foster?”
“Yeah?”
“This burger.” She points at it. “Is out of this world. I’m serious, this is really, really good.”
“I know what I’m doing,” Dad says over the smoke.
Flora’s eyes flick over the bags of buns left. We’re fully stacked. “Would it be greedy if I had another?”
“You can have as many as you want.” Dad is already making her another.
Flora smiles at my mom. “Did you know Sean is at the top of our class? You must be so proud of him.”
“We never have to worry about his grades, that’s for sure.” Mom pours her a cup of lemonade.
“And it’s not just that he’s smart, he’s so nice about it too.” Flora takes a sip. “Delicious. He explains things in a way that just clicks, and you wonder if it’s always been that simple. Not to mention he’s generous with encouragement and makes you feel good about yourself.”
Heat crawls up my neck. “If you can’t explain it simply, you don’t understand it well enough.” I quote Einstein as I accept the half-finished burger she hands me.
“Show-off.” She winks at me. “My brother, Jeremy, is brilliant, but it’s different. He has this way of making you feel stupid for not getting it fast enough. If I don’t understand something in three seconds, he lets out this exasperated, dramatic sigh. It’s so frustrating.”
“That’s totally how Sean acts around me,” Lindsey says, and everyone chuckles.
We’re the type of family that shops at Walmart and eats macaroni and cheese in front of the TV.
Flora stands in our backyard, holding a paper napkin and a cup of lemonade, but it’s as if a supernova has landed.
My parents laugh at everything she says.
Lindsey gushes nonstop over her dress and makeup, and then somehow feels compelled to ask if she can touch Flora’s purse.
Flora slides the strap off her shoulder and holds it out to Lindsey, who turns the tiny thing over in her hand like it’s a baby bird.
Her index finger brushes against the golden logo, one letter at a time, spelling it out.
P-R-A-D-A. “This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. ” Lindsey sighs. “Can I look inside?”
Unbelievable. “For real, Lindsey?” I say.
“Absolutely!” Flora opens the clasp.
“Oh my god!” Lindsey squeals. I pray she won’t pull out a condom in front of my parents. “Is this the new YSL lipstick? The limited edition?”
“Good spot.”
“My friends and I are dying to get one, but it’s sold out everywhere. Where did you get yours?”
“You know what?” Flora says, noticing the way Lindsey’s fingers are still wrapped around the tube. “You can have it.”
“Seriously?”
“Linz.” Mom frowns. “Don’t be rude.”
“Honestly, Mrs. Foster, this color doesn’t quite work on me,” Flora says, then examines Lindsey’s face. “Your skin tone is just right. You’re doing me a favor if you put it to good use. Scrape off the end and it’s good as new.”
The last thing Lindsey needs is more encouragement. “Can you please come up to my room to check out my makeup collection?”
“I’d love to.” Flora checks the time. “But I want to give you my full attention, and we’re short on time now. How about the next time I’m over?”
A polite dodge. Lindsey is delusional if she thinks Flora has an ounce of interest in her measly middle-school collection.
“How about—” Flora taps on her phone. “Next Saturday afternoon? Wait, early afternoon. I’ll get your number from Sean, and meanwhile I’ll send you some influencers you must follow.”
Lindsey nods like she might self-combust. Before we leave, out of nowhere, Dad pipes up. “Hey, let’s get a photo together before you go.”
I cringe. This isn’t my first time trick-or-treating. “Dad, you’re not making me look cool right now.”
“Oh my god, we have to!” Flora says. “Can you take one with my phone too? And one with Lindsey?” She tugs on my arm and leads me to where Dad instructs, right by the masonry fireplace, then tilts her head to lean against my shoulder. The heat of her seeps through my sleeve.
She glances up at me and smiles before turning back to the camera.
I’m suddenly glad we took that photo.
* * *
After we’re seated in her Mercedes, Flora drops her head back against the headrest and lets out a long breath. “That went okay, right? I was supernervous.”
“Are you kidding? You made that look way too easy,” I say.
“Hey, meeting my crush’s family for the first time is nerve-racking, all right?” She turns and smiles. “But I’m glad I got to meet them. They’re all so nice.”
“Lindsey is a little brat.”
“I like her.”
It’s already an hour and a half into the dance. “Sorry that took so long.”
“No worries. Sorry I was late too. Ray was being dramatic about something, and then someone else came over. Not important. Let’s go.”
Flora steps on the pedal hard, and we thrust forward before I have time to dwell on whether “someone” is another guy. My seat belt locks, and I almost hear my neck snap. At the next red light, we screech to a halt at the last second.
“Whoa. Where did you get your driver’s license?”
“What makes you think I have one?” Her grin is all mischief. “Kidding. I’m fully licensed and extremely skilled. What’s the fun in driving if you can’t speed a little? I bought my car for the gas pedal.”
“You mean the engine.”
“Yes. Can you feel it?” She guns it again, then lifts a hand, voice dropping dramatically. “Quality.”
I laugh. “Yeah, and I have the spinal cord injury to prove it.”