The Future of Us

50://Emma

“EMMA?” my mom calls from downstairs.

I glance at my alarm clock. It’s not set to go off for another ten minutes.

“Emma!”

I groan and pull the covers over my head. I fell asleep on the couch last night, and finally stumbled to my room at two in the morning. When I got upstairs, I noticed the light was on in Josh’s bathroom. He takes showers in the middle of the night when he can’t sleep. I considered blinking my light a few times. If he blinked back, I would have held a note to my window like when we were kids. But I decided not to bother him. Josh doesn’t want to hear from me. He spent the afternoon with Sydney, taking their first steps toward a future together.

My mom’s sandals click on the stairs, and I scan my tired brain for what I could’ve done to piss her off. I didn’t see her at all last night. She and Martin were buying cabinetry out in Pittsburgh. I ate dinner and stacked my plate and glass in the dishwasher. I even wiped down the counter before watching Wayne’s World.

My mom is wearing a yellow dress and her hair is pulled back with a matching headband. She’s frowning, and holding up a black videocassette.

“Wayne’s World, Emma?”

I rub the shoulder I was sleeping on. “Is that why you woke me up?”

“No.” She flashes a different video in her other hand.

“This is why I woke you up.”

I grab a scrunchie from my nightstand and pull my hair into a ponytail. “Can you be more specific?”

“You ejected our blank tape to watch Wayne’s World,” my mom says, pressing her lips tight.

I shrug. Maybe I ejected a tape. I can’t remember.

“We were taping Seinfeld,” she says. “We had it programmed.”

“I’m sorry.”

“We tape it every Thursday, Emma. You know that.” She looks at the ocean poster tacked above my desk, and then back at me. “Martin and I are concerned about your lack of respect for this house.”

I sit up. “Lack of respect? What are you talking about?”

She points to the floor by my dresser. “Martin noticed that stain right there. Emma, we just put in new carpeting. How did you already spill something on it?”

I do not want to talk about that. Spilling the vase water was a dumb thing to do, but it wasn’t the stupidest thing I did that afternoon.

“I tried cleaning it,” I say.

“You should have asked us for help. We have products that lift stains—”

Wait a second! “What was Martin doing in my room?”

My mom sighs. “He was just measuring with the contractor.”

I leap out of bed and tug my shirt down over my hips. I’m not in the mood to fight, especially after the arguments with Josh and my dad, but I can’t leave this one unchecked.

“It’s for his office,” she adds. “But that’s not until after you graduate.”

“This is crazy!” I say, my pulse racing. I hold my hands near my eyes, almost as blinders. “This has been my room for sixteen years and it’s still my room. Maybe Martin has designs to turn it into his office someday, but he does not have my permission to enter whenever he wants.”

My mom sets both videos on top of my dresser.

“I’m sorry about Seinfeld,” I say, opening a drawer and pulling out a green T-shirt and jean shorts. “I’ll call around to see if anyone taped it. But you have to tell Martin to stop plotting his takeover.”

My mom looks into the distance like she’s fending off tears. “It’s been an adjustment for all of us,” she says quietly.

I consider telling her it was an adjustment when she and my dad divorced, and her brief marriage to Erik was another adjustment. I’m tired of adjustments.

“Just tell Martin to stay out of my room,” I say.

That’s my future this morning. It doesn’t say I’m married. It doesn’t say I’m single. Now I’m a graduate of San Diego State and I live in Oakland, California.

The last thing I wrote was on Wednesday.

My photo is black and white, almost a silhouette. I’m playing the saxophone in front of an open window, and my hair is shoulder-length.

I click open my list of Friends and start scrolling down. Cody is there. He’s wearing a different tie, but he looks basically the same as yesterday. I scroll down to the Js, but there’s still no Josh.

I click back to my main page. I just wrote something twelve seconds ago!

I’m getting rid of Millicent?

Clarence and Millicent represent everything good about my friendship with Josh. And now I want to let go of that? Did I ruin our friendship forever all because I kissed him? Or is it because I didn’t have a clear answer when he asked why I kissed him?

Hang on! I can’t change my password. That’s how I’ve been able to log on to Facebook. And I need to be able to get onto Facebook. My relationship is complicated now. There’s no mention of a career. Even though I’m not telling much, I imagine at some point I’ll start revealing again. If I can’t learn the details of my life, then I won’t have a chance to repair things.

“Emma!” my mom calls, startling me. “Martin needs to make a work call. Can you sign off now?”

“No, I—”

“This is what we were talking about,” she warns. “We’re getting another phone line soon, just for the Internet. But for now, you need to quit.”

As I close my screen, I think about that photo of Kellan, Tyson, Josh, and me at GoodTimez that I tore up the other day. I hurry over to my trashcan, hoping Martin didn’t empty it when he was in here. And there, underneath several crumpled tissues, are the jagged pieces of the photograph. I pick them out of the garbage, one by one, and cup them in my palm.

Maybe Josh and I aren’t going to be friends in the future, but I can’t throw away these memories. I open my top drawer, slide the pieces of the photo into my journal, and then close my dresser again.

51://Josh

IT’S SENIOR SKIP DAY. With a quarter of the students gone, the hallways feel uncomfortably wide and open. They’re also quieter, making it too easy to get lost in my thoughts.

As I walk to third period, I slide my shoulder against the locker doors and think about time. If I could, I’d travel back six months to the night I tried to kiss Emma, and I wouldn’t do it. She would still hug my arm for warmth as we walked through the cemetery, but when we got back to her car with Tyson and Kellan, there would be no awkwardness between us. If I couldn’t go back that far, I’d return to Emma’s porch the day she set up her new computer, and I wouldn’t give her that CD-ROM. Then she never would’ve discovered Facebook. While we still wouldn’t be as close as we once were, at least we’d be talking.

I continue down the hall until a voice behind me says, “There you are!”

I take a shallow breath, and turn around.

“Isn’t this weird?” Sydney motions at the surrounding hallway. “It’s like no one’s here today.”

She really is beautiful, with her light brown hair and amber eyes. She could be featured in one of the magazines Emma and Kellan flip through for the quizzes.

“Are your arms tired from yesterday?” Sydney asks. She reaches forward to squeeze my bicep. Thankfully, I did my extra push-ups today. “I worked you hard.”

“Not a problem,” I say, though my arms are pretty sore. “What about you?”

Sydney lets her shoulders and arms droop forward. “I was exhausted when I got home.”

The two-minute warning bell rings and I’m grateful for the interruption.

“Where are you eating lunch?” Sydney asks, glancing at her phone.

I’m going to my usual spot at the oak tree, but I’m not sure I should invite her to join me. That’s what Tyson suggested, but Emma may be there, which would be more awkwardness than I can handle right now.

“If you already have plans,” Sydney says, “we can have lunch some other time.”

She deserves an explanation. “It’s not that I have plans,” I say, “but there’s been some tension with one of my friends, and I’m hoping to talk to her about it today.”

Sydney momentarily looks away. I shouldn’t have used the word her.

“That’s good,” she says. “I mean, that’s sweet of you.”

On Facebook, Sydney and I seem happy together. Even though we’re different people now, we must become more similar over time. Maybe Emma was right and I pushed things too soon.

“This is going to sound weird,” Sydney says, looking down. “Last night I was telling my sister, Haley, what we did yesterday, and about how much fun I had hanging out with you.”

“Thanks,” I say. “I had fun, too.”

She sighs, and then looks up at me with a half-smile. “But when I told her I took you out to Rick’s house, she called me an idiot. If that put you in an uncomfortable position, I just want to say I’m sorry.”

I give a slight shrug but don’t say anything. I was definitely not expecting an apology.

Sydney smiles bashfully. “Haley would probably say I’m being an idiot again for asking this, but do you want to come with me to that bonfire tonight?”

“The one at Rick’s house?”

“It’s not actually at his house,” she says. “It’s down by the lake.”

Shana Roy bursts over. “Hey, Syd!” After a brief glance at me, she holds her palm out to Sydney. “I need some gum or mints. Do you have any?”

As Sydney digs through her bag, I try to figure out what I’m going to say about the bonfire. If we aren’t supposed to get together this early and I go with her, am I forcing things beyond the breaking point? But if I try to slow things down, will they ever pick back up again?

Thankfully, there’s a way to find out. Whatever answer I give, I can go onto Facebook after school and see the repercussions. I can use Emma’s emergency key and check while she’s still at track. I know her email address and password, so I’ll just take one quick peek and decide if—

No! If I really wish we’d never discovered Facebook, then that’s how it has to be from now on. As far as I’m concerned, Facebook never existed. And if that’s true, and Sydney Mills was asking me to a bonfire, I’d be stupid to say no.

Shana folds a stick of gum into her mouth and then waves goodbye. Once she’s gone, Sydney smiles at me. “So do you want to go?”

“Let’s do it,” I say.

I UNWRAP my second sandwich. Emma lays a slice of yellow cheese on an apple wedge. She and Kellan arrived at lunch together, but Emma hasn’t said more than a few words since she sat down.

Kellan throws a french fry straight at Tyson, smacking him in the chin.

He picks the fry out of his lap and pops it in his mouth. “Don’t stop till you make it.”

Kellan aims another one carefully and Tyson opens his mouth. The fry rockets at his face and—

“Bull’s-eye!” Kellan throws her hands in the air.

Tyson coughs twice and gives her a thumbs-up.

Emma peels off another slice of cheese, and offers it to me. “If you want it.”

I’m not a fan of plain cheese, but I take it anyway.

“Wow!” Tyson looks between Emma and me. “Did you two actually acknowledge each other and exchange cheese? This is a big moment. Does anyone have a camera?”

Kellan bounces a fry off his forehead. “Leave them alone.”

“But this is how it all begins,” Tyson says, dipping the fry in Kellan’s ketchup. “The next thing you know he’s offering her a bite of his sandwich. And if they’re not careful—”

“Tyson!” Kellan says. “Shut up.”

Tyson holds out his arms. “What? They haven’t said a single word—”

This time, when the fry connects with Tyson’s forehead, it’s slathered in ketchup. It sticks for a moment, then drops to the ground.

Kellan slaps a hand over her mouth. “I did not mean to do that.”

Tyson laughs. “You didn’t mean to throw it, or you didn’t mean to rub it in ketchup first?”

Kellan heaves her backpack onto her lap. “I’ve got a napkin in here somewhere.”

“Forget the napkin, woman,” Tyson says, standing up. “I’m wiping this off on your shirt.”

Kellan screams, and then sprints toward the football field. Tyson follows right behind.

“Emma,” I say as soon as they’re gone, “I’m so sorry about what I said the other day. I know you would never jerk me around on purpose.”

Emma runs her hand over a patch of grass. “Maybe we should accept that it’s been a crazy week and leave it at that.”

Kellan squeals on the field as Tyson catches her. He aims his ketchupy forehead at her chest but she tears herself away and keeps running.

Yes, it’s been a crazy week, but we need to talk about it. “I just didn’t know what to do after—”

“I know.” Emma waves off this conversation and then whispers, “Josh, listen. You’re probably going to be mad at me again, but I’ve been looking at Facebook a little, and this morning it said—”

“Just tell me we can stop avoiding each other,” I say. “That’s all I care about.”

Emma pulls in a deep breath like she’s close to tears. I pick a blade of grass, press it between my thumbs, and whistle. Emma covers her ears, but at least she’s smiling.

“Do you find me charming and lovable?” I ask when she lowers her hands. “Or are you still mad?”

Emma cracks up. “I was never mad. I was only moderately pissed.”

“And now?”

She leans over and pinches my cheek. “Charming and lovable.”

Tyson and Kellan walk casually back to the tree. The ketchup is now wiped across the sleeve of his T-shirt.

“Did everyone kiss and make up?” Tyson asks.

My face instantly warms.

Kellan claps her hands together. “Next question. Who’s going to this bonfire? Tyson is bringing the wood, and I know I want to go.”

Emma looks at me with cautious optimism.

“Here’s the thing,” I say, wanting to take back the next few words even before I say them. “I already agreed to go with Sydney.”

“Oh,” Kellan says.

Emma closes the lid on her Tupperware. “I wish I could go,” she says, “but this morning my mom and I got in a fight and I should probably stay home.”

“Are you sure?” Kellan asks. “I think it would be fun.”

“I’ve got an idea,” Tyson says. “We can invite Sydney to come with us. Kellan’s car can fit everyone. When I’m done with the firewood, I’ll return my dad’s truck and we can all go together.”

Emma picks up Kellan’s Sprite and takes a sip. “No, Josh needs to go with Sydney. And I’m staying home.”

As Emma puts her container back in her bag, I notice that Kellan is staring hard at me.

52://Emma

I’VE HAD A LUMP in my throat since lunch, when Josh told us he’s going to the bonfire with Sydney. He looked embarrassed saying that in front of me, but he doesn’t even know the latest about my miserable future. The last time he saw it, I was living in London with Kevin Storm. Since then, I’ve divorced Isaac Rawlings, and now I have a complicated relationship in California.

Worst of all, Josh has no idea that our friendship will never heal.

I’m walking to track, but I’d rather be sitting in front of my computer, seeing if I’ve changed my password yet. If I haven’t, then I could read as much as possible before I lose Facebook forever.

“Hey, Emma,” Cody says. He’s jogging across the parking lot, a gym bag slung over his shoulder. His hair is spiky with sweat and his T-shirt is stretched tight over his chest. “Looks like we’re both late.”

“I was walking my friend to the chem lab,” I say.

Cody falls into stride beside me. “I got stuck in traffic coming back from Senior Skip Day.”

“How was it?”

He shrugs. “It was boring. I’m over all of this. Now it’s just a countdown until Duke. That’s where I’m going in the fall.”

“Oh,” I say, as if the information is new to me. I actually know more about Cody’s future than he does. Someday he’ll live in Denver and visit the White House. And in fifteen years, he’ll still be single. But right now, he loves a movie that I just watched.

“What you said reminded me of a funny quote.” I wipe my palms across my shorts as I slip into an impression of Wayne. “‘I thought I had mono for a year. It turns out I was just bored.’”

“Close,” Cody says, a grin sliding across his face. “‘I once thought I had mono for a year.’ I didn’t know you liked Wayne’s World.”

The truth is, I hated it even more the second time.

“You’ve seen it?” I ask.

“A few times,” he says. “So, Emma Nelson’s into Green Day and Wayne’s World. I’m impressed.”

Cody slings his arm loosely over my shoulders as we walk toward the field. The sides of our bodies touch the entire time. I can feel his muscular frame against mine, and he smells like aftershave.

I can’t believe it, but this actually might be working.

THE COACH CALLS OUT our times as we loop around the track. Every quarter mile, I beat my personal best.

Coach McLeod blows his whistle for encouragement. “Whatever’s gotten into you, Emma, it’s good stuff. Keep it up!”

I keep running even though my legs are burning. I’m doing it to impress Cody, but it’s also clearing my head. I’m currently fighting with Josh, my dad, and now my mom. The only person I have left is Kellan, and I have a feeling I’m losing her to Tyson again.

“Walk it off, Emma,” the coach says after my final four hundred.

I’m rounding the track, my hand pressed into my side, when Cody jogs up next to me.

“Do you feel like you’re going to hurl?” he asks.

I stare at him. “I don’t think so.”

“It’s from Wayne’s World.”

I force a laugh. “Right. Of course.”

“Hey, do you want a ride home? I need to drive out and pick up my class ring, but I put that bootleg tape in the car… .”

“Which bootleg?” I ask, stalling to give myself time to figure out what to do. My car is in the student parking lot, and I’m supposed to pick up Kellan from the chem lab and drive her home.

“Dave Matthews,” he says. “But I have to talk to McLeod about tomorrow’s timed trials first. So if you want, meet me in the parking lot in ten minutes. I’m the silver Toyota.”

As if I didn’t know.

“WHY ARE YOU OUT OF BREATH?” Kellan asks, setting a beaker into a metal stand. She’s wearing plastic goggles and has an assortment of chemicals in front of her. Kellan completed AP Chemistry last year, but still drops into the lab to assist the teacher.

Ms. Monroe is up front with a few students. I step closer to Kellan to make sure no one hears. “I ran here from track,” I say. “Cody asked me to come with him to pick up his class ring, and then he’s giving me a ride home.”

“Why?” Kellan asks. She spoons yellow powder into one of the beakers, and it instantly emits a putrid-smelling gas.

I step back, waving a hand in front of my nose. “Is this safe?”

Kellan pushes her goggles up to her forehead. “I’m not going to drink it. And don’t change the subject. Why does Cody want you to go with him?”

I can’t hold back my smile. “We’ve been talking recently. It turns out we have a lot in common.”

As Kellan writes something on the lab chart, I study her face. I’ve only seen one picture of her daughter, but it was obvious that Lindsay looks so much like her.

“Let me guess,” Kellan finally says. “You’re asking me to drive your car home.”

I reach into my backpack and dig out my keys, setting them beside the Bunsen burner. “I don’t think we’ll be very long. You can hang out at my house, and then I’ll drive you home. Or you can take my bike from the garage if you don’t want to wait.”

Kellan doesn’t respond.

“Please,” I say. “I’ll owe you big-time.”

“Huge-time,” she says, dropping my keys into her purse. “It’s like riding the Tour de France from your house to mine. And I don’t need to tell you to be careful with Cody. We both know he expects a lot from girls.”

“We’re getting his class ring,” I say. “That’s all. And I’ll drive you home the second I get back.”

“Or maybe I’ll ask Tyson to come pick me up.”

“Okay, what’s going on with you guys?” I ask.

Kellan turns her attention to another beaker.

“Kellan Steiner!” I say. “You barely got over Tyson from the last time. You don’t need any more drama.”

“I know I’ve had my ups and downs with him,” Kellan says, looking me in the eye. “I actually called that therapist yesterday to set up another appointment. I want to be serious about keeping my emotions in check.”

“So it’s official? You and Tyson are getting back together?”

“I didn’t say that.” Kellan picks up some metal tongs, but then immediately sets them back down. “But speaking of drama, and I want the truth, what’s going on with you and Josh?”

I flinch. “Nothing.”

“Yesterday, you didn’t even want to go to lunch because he was there. And then today you were almost in tears when he brought up Sydney.”

I pull my backpack over my shoulders. “People grow apart,” I say, “and sometimes there’s nothing anyone can do about it.”

I turn and walk out the door.

53://Josh

“BEND YOUR KNEES!” I yell through cupped hands.

Up on the half-pipe, the stoner guy is about to make his first drop. I tried talking him out of it, but he’s determined to impress his girlfriend. She’s standing at the other end of the ramp with her arms crossed, shaking her head. With one foot on the tail of his board, and the rear wheels locked against the lip of the ramp, he slowly lifts his other leg and sets it near the front of the board.

Tyson and I are next to the ramp, sitting on our boards.

Tyson rocks from side to side. “I’ve never seen anyone die on a half-pipe before.”

“Keep watching,” I say, and then I cup my hands again. “Bend your knees!”

The stoner guy nods like he heard me. As his board begins tipping forward, he lets out a primal scream. He flies down the ramp, but he’s not bending his knees. The board jets out from under him, his legs rocket into the air, and he lands hard on his back.

His girlfriend drops in from the other end, then jumps off her board and runs over to him. She helps him stagger away.

Tyson applauds. “He didn’t die. I guess that’s a success.”

I slide my backpack over my shoulder and stand up. “I’m heading home.”

Tyson laughs. “But what if he tries it again?”

I shake my head. I’m too stressed about tonight’s bonfire to enjoy anything going on here. Maybe I’m worrying over nothing. Maybe this is the night Sydney and I finally click. Or maybe this is the night we part for good.

I slap Tyson’s hand. “I’ll see you at the lake.”

I SLIDE OPEN my closet door. On the long shelf above my shirts, I keep everything I can’t throw away. Skater magazines. A cast I once wore on my leg, signed by everyone I know. A shoebox of bootleg punk tapes that David gave me. I jiggle out a box of well-worn charcoal sticks and a large sketchpad I haven’t touched since last year.

It feels good to hold this sketchpad again. Years ago, I wrote “TEMPLETON” in bold letters across the front. That’s what I wanted to go by when I became a famous artist.

I flip open the cover and laugh at my first masterpiece: Twenty-one Tweety Birds. It’s twenty-one pencil sketches of Tweety, but I only colored three of them yellow. I don’t remember the significance of those three, but it meant something at the time.

The next page is Toons & Tins. The Tasmanian Devil and Porky Pig shout into tin-can telephones, frustrated that they can’t understand each other, with spittle flying everywhere. Seriously, what the hell was I on?

A few pages later, I turn the sketchpad on its side.

At the beginning of my freshman year, Emma and I were studying on her bed when I asked if I could sketch her. She set aside her book and sat patiently while I drew, but it frustrated me that I couldn’t get her just right. It may have looked like her, but it felt like anyone.

Emma loved it, though, and she made me show it to all our friends. But I never attempted to draw anything real again. If there was one thing I should’ve been able to capture, it was Emma.

I flip past the next several Looney Tunes drawings and tear out the first blank sheet. I set it on top of my sketchpad, which I pull against my hip. With a broken piece of charcoal, I run a broad squiggle down the center of the page and shade a ragged patch to the right. I study it for a moment, and then add an arched horizon at the bottom. This feels like the beginning of something. I’m just not sure what.

54://Emma

THE INSIDE OF CODY’S CAR is different than I imagined. It’s worn out, the seat upholstery is thinning, and the vinyl along the door is cracked in several places.

“My brother gave it to me when he left for college,” he says as we pull out of the student parking lot. “I know, it’s a clunker.”

The fact that Cody seems embarrassed about his car is really cute. He’s showing me his vulnerable side. It makes me want to burst out and tell him that one day he’ll be able to buy any car he wants.

“Where does your brother go to school?” I ask.

“University of Vermont. He’s into environmental causes.”

Just like you someday!

Cody turns left onto Finch Road, heading in the direction of the highway. He reaches down near my knees to open the glove compartment, which is neatly lined with cassette tapes. “Can you grab the tape labeled ‘Dave Matthews’?” he asks. “That’s the bootleg I was telling you about. They played near my brother’s school, and he recorded it.”

I pull out the cassette and push it into the tape player. A light static emits from the speakers. While I wait for the music to start, I glance over at Cody. He’s such a confident driver, the way he reclines in his seat with one hand loosely on the wheel.

He merges onto the highway, and the tape begins. There are so many concertgoers talking in the background I can barely hear the music. I think they’re playing “What Would You Say.”

“That audience is annoying,” Cody says, gesturing at the stereo. “If you’re only there to get drunk and talk through the performance, you may as well go to a bar.”

“My dad plays music professionally,” I say. “He’s always complaining about that.”

Cody turns up the volume. “As a guitarist, Dave Matthews is so underappreciated. Can you hear what he’s doing right there?”

I try to listen, but the quality is really poor. “It’s amazing.”

Cody hits the gas hard and passes two cars. We’re headed in the direction of the Lake Forest Mall. Kellan and I go there a few times a year, but mostly we save our money to shop in Pittsburgh.

“Why did you have to drop off your class ring?” I ask. I can picture Cody’s ring perfectly. It’s silver and chunky with an orange stone in the center, the official Cheetah color.

“I’m getting it engraved with the date I’m competing in states,” he says. “I know it’s strange to engrave a date that hasn’t happened yet, but I’m doing it for good luck.”

Cody placed first in the hundred-yard dash at regionals two weeks ago. In another week he’s going on to states, where he has a chance to be the top male sprinter in all of Pennsylvania.

“Maybe I’ll have them look at my necklace,” I say, rummaging through the small pocket of my backpack. “I wonder if they can fix the clasp.”

“I’m sorry… the sound on this is terrible.” Cody pushes the power button on the stereo. As he does, a cyclist from the bike lane swerves in front of us.

I scream. “Watch out!”

Cody jerks the car to the left. Another car honks and slams on its brakes, and I cover my eyes.

“What the hell?” Cody shouts, glancing into his rearview mirror.

In the side mirror, I watch the bicyclist plant his foot onto the side of the road. He takes off his helmet and gives Cody the middle finger.

“Look at him!” Cody says. “He almost caused an accident, and he’s flipping me off?”

My heart is racing and my hands are trembling.

“And you should chill on the screaming,” Cody says. “It didn’t exactly help.”

Cody pulls into the Lake Forest Mall parking lot and shuts off the engine. He steps out of the car and I get out too, leaving my backpack inside. Cody doesn’t say anything about my necklace when we’re in the store, and I don’t mention it, either.

ONCE WE GET BACK in the car, the vibe feels better. The engraving on Cody’s class ring looked perfect, and the jeweler asked him to sign a newspaper clipping that had his picture and an article about him going to states. I acted surprised when he showed it to me, but I have the same clipping in my desk drawer at home.

As Cody pulls back onto the highway, he reaches into his glove compartment for a new tape. This time, his fingers brush my knees.

“You know,” he says, “my aunt and uncle’s house is right up the road, and they have a killer sound system. Want to see if we can hear the bootleg better at their place?”

My stomach flutters with excitement.

“Don’t worry,” he adds. “They’re dental surgeons and they work crazy hours. They won’t be home.”

“Are you sure they won’t mind?”

“No, it’s fine. My uncle gave me a spare key.”

Cody takes a left and steers onto a road lined with McMansions and newly planted trees. He parks in front of a huge white house with a fountain in the front lawn and Roman-style columns holding up the porch.

“Nice, right?” Cody grabs the bootleg tape and steps out of the car.

If I were here with Josh, we’d both dig through our pockets for pennies to toss into the fountain. But there’s no way I’d do that with Cody in his aunt and uncle’s front yard.

I glance around at the houses, all gigantic and quiet. Even though no one is around, I feel the need to whisper.

“Are you sure they’re not going to come home?” I ask.

Cody shakes his head. “I come here a lot.”

He punches in a security code and then fits the key into the lock. As he pushes open the door, he turns and smiles at me. My stomach flips over.

55://Josh

I ARRANGE MY CHARCOAL sketches in a semicircle around me, then stand up and take a step back. Some have angular lines, some are mostly wavy, and some are very sparse. Each has a unique feel, yet they all belong together.

Through my bedroom window, I hear Emma’s car pull into her driveway. I run downstairs and out the front door.

The driver’s side door opens and Kellan steps out. “Were you expecting someone else?” she asks.

“Where’s Emma? Is she still at track?”

Kellan’s expression is a mix of concern and pity. “Probably not. I’m dropping off her car, but I’m not waiting around for her to get back.”

“Did you two have a fight?” I ask.

Kellan walks toward Emma’s garage, but then swivels to face me. “Did you just ask if Emma and I had a fight? You guys are the ones who don’t seem to be talking.”

“We talked at lunch,” I say.

“Barely!” Kellan continues to the side of the garage and jiggles the doorknob, but it’s locked. “Josh, do you have any idea whose car she’s in right now?”

I knock my shoe against a fake rock and pick up the Scooby-Doo keychain. My hands fumble as I try to fit the key in the lock. Kellan snatches it from my hand and lets herself in.

“She’s with Cody,” Kellan says. “That guy’s an egotistical asshole, and I hold you responsible for this.”

“Me?” As far as I know, Emma and Cody had one conversation in the hallway. He wasn’t even her friend on Facebook.

Kellan removes a helmet from the handlebars of Emma’s bike. “There’s some weird competition going on between the two of you, and I don’t like it,” she says. She flips up the kickstand and rolls the bike toward the door.

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you really think Emma would be driving around with Cody Grainger if you were coming to the bonfire with the rest of us? But no, you’re going with Sydney Mills.”

I don’t want to picture Emma in Cody’s car.

As I follow Kellan to the sidewalk, I look down the street. I don’t know what Cody drives, but as a beat-up minivan rounds the corner, I secretly hope that’s him.

When I turn back, Kellan’s eyes have softened. “I get that Sydney is gorgeous,” she says. “But I watched you at lunch today. When you told us she was taking you to the bonfire, you didn’t look like most guys would have.”

“How was I supposed to look?”

Kellan lets out a shallow sigh and adjusts the strap beneath her neck. “Happy.”

I don’t know how to respond.

“Are you only going to the bonfire with Sydney because it feels like you should? Because she’s Sydney Mills?” Kellan asks. “And if you say yes, I will be so disappointed in you.”

“That’s not what I was going to say.”

“No girl, no matter how perfect she is, deserves to get hurt like that,” Kellan says. “So if you’re not into Sydney, you need to tell her tonight.”

Kellan swings her leg over the bike and pushes forward.

I walk slowly back to my house. When I reach the front door, I hear the soft squeal of brakes. Kellan doesn’t know I’m watching, but I see her stop next to Emma’s car and reach for a windshield wiper. She leaves a folded-up piece of paper against the glass, and then circles back around and rides off.

I GRAB THE CORDLESS PHONE from my parents’ room and head outside. When I reach the short wall surrounding the swings, I dial David’s number. His machine picks up after two rings.

“This is David. I’m probably screening my calls right now, so leave your name after the beep, and we’ll see if I answer.”

“Hey, this is Josh,” I say, weaving slowly between the swings. “You’re probably in class, but if you get this—”

There’s a click on David’s end. “Are you still there?”

“I’m here.”

“I slept through my afternoon class,” he says. “But that’s not something you should tell Mom and Dad.”

Before I saw David’s future, I would’ve laughed at his comment. Now I wonder how much of his life isn’t for Mom and Dad—or me—to know about. Eventually, he must tell everyone he’s gay because he brings Phillip to my house at the lake. In fact, one day he’ll write on the Internet that he’s in a relationship with a man.

With my free hand, I hold onto the chains of one of the swings. “Do you have a second to talk?”

I hear David plopping into his beanbag. “Sure. What’s up?”

I can’t remember why I thought calling my brother would help. There’s nothing he can say if I don’t reveal everything about Sydney and me and our future together. Without telling him about Facebook, it’s going to sound pathetic. Who complains about going to a bonfire with Sydney Mills?

“Josh,” David says, “do you understand how phones work? When you call someone, you’re supposed to talk.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just really confused about a girl right now.”

“Emma?” David asks.

“No,” I say. “Her name is Sydney Mills. She’s the one I was talking about the other night.”

“Wait, is she the little sister of the Mills twins?” he asks. “Dude, they were hot.”

I sit down on the swing and twist to the left. Why is he saying that? Did he think they were hot, or is he saying other guys thought they were hot? If he’s trying to fool me, I shouldn’t have called him in the first place. I need to talk honestly with him.

“If Sydney Mills is anything like her sisters…” David lets out a low whistle. “So I’m guessing you took my advice. You saw your moment and you didn’t let it pass.”

“She asked me to a bonfire tonight,” I say.

“Look at you go! So what’s the problem?”

“It’s hard to explain,” I say. “She’s gorgeous. And any guy in school would love to be with her… except me. And yet, I know I should.”

“Is she nice?” he asks.

“She’s a little self-absorbed. But yeah, she’s nice.”

David is quiet for a moment. “Are you worried she’s more experienced than you? Because if you want, I can explain—”

“No,” I say. “That’s not it.” I didn’t call him because I’m nervous about hooking up. I’m nervous about my entire life.

“I know what your problem is,” David says.

“I have a problem?”

“You’re a go-with-the-flow guy,” he says. “You’ve always been that way. And that can feel great because it means you don’t have to make any hard decisions. But sometimes you need to figure out what you want, Josh. If that means you need to swim against the tide to get it, at least you’re aiming for something that could make you very happy.”

I twist the swing in the other direction.

“Where do you want to go to college?” David asks. “I know you won’t have to deal with that until next year, but where are you considering now?”

I laugh into the phone. He thinks I’m going to say Hemlock State, where Mom and Dad work. But I’ve seen Facebook. I know where I’m going, and he’s wrong. “The University of Washington,” I say.

“So you’ll go where your brother went,” David says. “Those are some strong currents you’re swimming against.”

“But it’s a good school.”

“I know it is,” he says. “But you need to pick the school you want to go to.”

There’s a beep on his end of the line, which means he has another call.

“Listen,” David says. “Tonight, you need to go to the bonfire with Sydney because you said you would. But when it’s over, I want you to think about something.”

His phone beeps again.

“If things aren’t clicking with her,” he says, “maybe it’s because there’s someone else you’d rather be with. And if that’s true, why not swim against the tide and ask her?”

Because I can’t put myself through that again.

56://Emma

“THAT FEELS AMAZING,” Cody groans, rolling his head from side to side.

I’ve been massaging his shoulders for a while now. A tank full of turquoise tropical fish is burbling, and the coffee table in front of us displays a fan of modern art books. I’m sitting on a black leather couch, while Cody’s sitting on the floor, leaning back between my knees. When we first got here, he pulled two bottles of chilled water from the fridge. We listened to a few songs on the Dave Matthews bootleg, and then he slid in one of his uncle’s Paul Simon CDs.

This house is amazing.

Cody is amazing.

I look at my reflection in the horizontal mirror hanging above the marble fireplace. The mirror is framed in thick bronze and probably weighs more than my dresser. If I had known this was going to happen when I woke up today, I would have worn something better than my olive-green T-shirt and jean shorts. But I suppose I could’ve done worse. I watch my reflection as I rub my fingers along Cody’s collarbone, inside the neck of his shirt. He groans with pleasure and closes his eyes.

It feels like my future is just beginning.

“This is definitely what I needed,” Cody says, turning and smiling at me. “The weight-training yesterday killed my shoulders.”

I smile back at him and flex my fingers, which are starting to ache. That massage lasted a long time.

“Mine too,” I say, hunching my shoulders. I unscrew the cap from my bottled water and take a sip.

“If you’re done,” Cody offers, “I can give you a massage back.”

“Sure. Thanks.”

I think about the first time Cody and I talked, and how I rested my head on his shoulder during the bus ride home from a track meet. I’d always admired him from a distance, but suddenly this perfect guy was paying attention to me. It took another year, and some knowledge of his future, but now here we are.

“Are you ready?” Cody asks. He pushes himself up from the floor and sits next to me on the couch. I turn toward the fish tank, and he starts massaging my shoulders.

It’s a very different massage than the one I gave him. His hands gently touch my skin, moving slowly up my arms. He glides his fingers down my sides and then rests them on my hips. I close my eyes, feeling a light shudder in my body as his lips kiss my neck.

“You’re cute, Emma Nelson,” he whispers, planting a row of kisses from my collarbone up to my ear. “This is a lot more fun than when you screamed in my car on the way over.”

He wraps his arm around my waist, and I tell myself to relax. I tell myself to be fun, and not that girl who screamed in the car.

This is the moment I’m supposed to turn around and kiss him back. Instead, I glance over at the mirror and realize that I don’t know who I’m seeing in the reflection.

“You said you come here a lot?” I ask.

“Sometimes,” Cody says, kissing down my other shoulder.

I picture that tall girl he gave his number to at the track meet. “With other girls?”

“That’s sort of a personal question.”

“This is sort of a personal moment,” I say.

“We’re just having fun.”

Cody continues rubbing my shoulders. As he does, I think about the past few days. I’ve listened to him tell me about Duke and about teaching himself to play guitar, and I’ve even recited Wayne’s World to him. But he’s never asked about me. That’s because he doesn’t care about me for who I am. He cares about me because I’ve been worshipping him.

I stand up.

Cody looks at me. “What’s going on?”

“I want to go home,” I say.

“We just got here,” he says, leaning back. His fingers are laced behind his head and his elbows are splaying out. “You should chill for a little longer.”

There he goes, telling me to chill again. Just like back in the car.

Kellan’s theory is wrong. When Cody jerked into traffic, then snapped at me for screaming, I didn’t see my future husband. Sitting next to me in that car was a guy so different than what I’d hoped.

“I’m going home,” I say.

Cody clenches his jaw, and I can tell he’s pissed. I don’t think many girls say no to him. “I guess I can drive you.”

And get in a car with him again? “I’d rather walk,” I say.

“We’re three miles from your house.”

I start toward the door. “I know how far away I am.”

Cody follows after me and reaches for my hand. “I said I’ll drive you.”

“No!” I say, pulling away.

I open the front door and he grabs my shoulder, turning me around.

“Do you realize you’re being a freak?” he asks.

I push his hand off me. “And yet you have no idea that you’re a dick.”

I WALK ALONG THE HIGHWAY facing traffic. The shoulder stays wide for half a mile before gradually narrowing. When it’s no longer an option to walk on the side of the road, I cut through a section of tall grass. In the distance, beyond the railroad tracks, I see the overgrown lot where a traveling carnival used to operate during the summers.

I lift my feet high to avoid the itchy weeds brushing against my ankles. As I reach the railroad tracks, I bend down to pick thistles from my socks. When Josh and I were younger, we once biked over here with coins to set on the tracks for the train to flatten. The train never came, so we ended up searching the carnival grounds for lost treasures.

I walk across a wide area where the Ferris wheel used to stand near a rickety red Tilt-a-Whirl. Next came the taffy vendor and a game where toy guns shoot streams of water into the open mouths of plastic clown heads.

I stroll through the grounds, thinking about how ever since we discovered Facebook, I’ve been changing specific things in an attempt to improve my future. Jordan Jones was probably cheating on me, so I ditched him. Kevin Storm ruined my career, so I made sure we never moved to Ohio. But every time I got a new future, I still turned out unhappy.

For the past five days, I’ve been trying to understand why this happens to me and how I can tweak things so it won’t happen again. But I’m starting to wonder if it actually has nothing to do with the future. Maybe it has everything to do with what happens now.

I step around a long plank, swollen with moisture.

Aside from Cody, most of the guys I go for are nice. Graham may have been horny, but he was never mean. And Dylan is one of the friendliest guys I know. The other day, he was checking out library books for his new girlfriend because—

Oh my god.

Dylan was getting those books because he loves his girlfriend. He never did those things for me because I never gave him the chance. I never told him what I was reading or what movies made me cry. I kept enough distance so I would never get hurt.

I’ve always protected myself when it comes to love. And maybe that’s the problem. By not letting myself get hurt now, it ripples into much bigger pain later. In the future, maybe I never let my husbands see the real me either, so I never give them the chance to learn what makes me happy. Either that or I marry a conceited jerk like Cody, and then there’s definitely not going to be much love.

Once I’m across the carnival lot, I step onto the broken sidewalk. Blades of grass push through the cracks, fighting for a taste of sunlight. I’ve still got a long way until I’m home, but I will get there eventually.

THE FIRST THING I NOTICE when I walk into the kitchen is a note on the counter.

I fold the note in half and go into the bathroom to wash my face. It looks like a war zone in here with tiles torn out and pipes protruding from the walls. Along the floor, someone placed a row of delicate blue tiles, no doubt what my mom and Martin are planning to use for the remodel.

I’ll have to let them know that I like what they chose. In the kitchen, I pour myself a glass of ice water, and then push play on the answering machine.

“Hi, Emma,” my dad’s voice says. “I’m sorry it’s taken me a while to get back to you. Things have been stressful here. We’ve actually been going back and forth to the hospital with Rachel. The doctors are doing tests and…”

My dad pauses for a breath, and I feel myself tearing up. I sent a stuffed puppy when Rachel was born, but I haven’t allowed myself to think about my baby sister very much. Now I want to hold her and tell her I love her and that she has to be okay.

“Please call me back,” my dad continues. “Cynthia and I would love to have you visit us for the summer. We both miss you. I miss you.”

FACEBOOK IS STILL HERE in my Favorite Places.

Please keep the same password, I tell myself. Even if it’s just for right now, and then never again.

I type in “EmmaNelson4Ever@aol.com” and “Millicent,” and then press Enter.

I exhale. The password still works.

I don’t check my relationship status or where I’m living. Instead, I open up my list of friends and scroll down to the Rs, and there she is.

In the tiny photo, my sister looks about fifteen years old, with dark brown eyes and curly brown hair just like mine. I stare at Rachel’s face, then lean back in my chair, and let myself cry.

After a couple minutes, I wipe my eyes and scroll to the Js. Josh and I are friends again. He’s standing in front of a jagged mountain range, a blue backpack strapped over his shoulders. His hair is shaggier than usual and he’s looking straight at the camera with a huge grin. I place the arrow next to Josh’s photo, but I decide not to click it. I don’t want to read into things anymore. If Josh looks happy, then I should be happy for him.

Before I close Facebook, I check one final thing. I click into my Photos. At the bottom, just like before, I have an album called High School Memories. It loads slowly, but after a few minutes I see the photo of me on the day I got my driver’s license. And there’s the photo of Tyson and Josh using their skateboards as swords. There’s the picture of my bikini butt: “The good ole days.” And there, at the very bottom, is the photo of Kellan, Tyson, Josh, and me in the ball pit at GoodTimez. I lean closer to the screen. The quality isn’t perfect, but I can see a spiderweb of lines where I tore the picture, and then light shadows where one day I must have taped it back together.

I UNPLUG THE CORD from the back of my computer and click it into my phone. My dad’s line rings twice, and then Cynthia answers.

“Hi, it’s Emma,” I say.

“Hello, sweetie.” Her voice sounds tired. “Your dad will be so happy you called. He’s giving the baby a bottle right now. Can he call you back?”

“Of course,” I say. “But he said something in his message about Rachel. Is she okay?”

Cynthia sighs heavily. “The doctors don’t know why she’s not gaining enough weight. It’s been difficult.”

I wish I could tell Cynthia what I saw on Facebook, that Rachel is going to grow up to be a beautiful girl. But all I can say is, “She’s going to be fine. I know it.”

“Thank you,” Cynthia says, and I hear her voice catch. “I needed to hear that.”

Cynthia and I talk for a few more minutes, and then she invites me down for the summer, just like my dad did. I tell her that I’m seriously considering it.

When I hang up, I slide on my flip-flops and walk outside, breathing in the cool air. A light breeze picks up, which flutters a small piece of paper tucked against the windshield of my car.

I lift up the windshield wiper and unfold the note, instantly recognizing Kellan’s handwriting.

I refold the paper and head back inside.

57://Josh

“IT’S NOT A DATE,” I say, dipping my spoon into the turkey soup.

“Did she ask you to the bonfire?” Dad says. “Did she offer to pick you up?”

“It’s still not a date,” I say.

“What I don’t understand,” Mom says, “is why you never asked this girl out before.”

Because she’s Sydney Mills! I want to scream. She’s a year ahead of me and light-years beyond me.

Instead I say, “It’s complicated.”

“If you’re going to be dating this girl,” Mom says, “we should discuss some ground rules.”

I keep my eyes focused on my soup bowl. “I never said this was turning into a relationship.”

“You got home a few minutes late last night,” Dad says. “I know you were helping Tyson at the pizza shop, but do you want to borrow my watch for tonight?”

He starts removing the hulking gold and silver band from his wrist, but I raise my hand.

“It’s okay,” I say. “Sydney’s cell phone has a clock on it.”

“A cell phone?” Dad says. “Well then, I don’t expect you to roll in with some story about a flat tire without calling us.”

“That was David,” I say. He used that excuse twice for coming home late after dates with Jessica… or whoever it was.

Mom blows gently on her soup. “This is a three-day weekend,” she says, “so your dad and I have agreed to extend your curfew by one hour.”

I’m sure this is because of my comment about David moving to Seattle to get away from them. “I don’t think I’ll need it. I’m actually pretty tired.”

“Well, if you change your mind,” Mom says, “you can always call us on her cell phone.”

I push back my chair. “I have to get ready.”

SYDNEY CALLED from her cellphone to tell me she was running a few minutes late. One of the fiancés, I don’t know which sister he belonged to, had to drop off something for her parents and borrowed her car. He just brought it back a little while ago.

One day maybe I’ll meet these fiancés, and I wonder how similar we’ll be. David would probably call them go-with-the-flow guys. Maybe he was right when he called me that, but I’m not so sure I want to be that kind of guy anymore. Maybe I do want to go to college somewhere else, like a school that specializes in visual arts. And while Waikiki and Acapulco are probably great, my dream vacation might be hiking in the mountains, or taking a train through Europe.

The doorbell rings while I’m brushing my teeth. Just like I asked them not to, I hear my parents opening the door.

I bolt down the stairs, zipping up my black sweatshirt. When I reach the front door, Sydney is standing in a sky-blue strapless dress that falls above her knees. Her hair spills down her back in waves. She’s smiling and chatting with my parents while Dad examines her cell phone.

“Hello, honey,” Mom says. She raises her eyebrows at me. “When you told us Sydney was pretty, you were being a little modest.”

Sydney tilts her head. “Thank you, Mrs. Templeton. That’s very sweet.”

I take the phone out of Dad’s hands and give it back to Sydney. “Ready to go?”

“It was wonderful to meet both of you,” Sydney says.

I walk across the threshold and Sydney loops her arm in mine. We start down the path, but then Dad clears his throat.

“Josh?” he calls out. “What time do you think the bonfire will be over?”

I turn back around. Haven’t we already discussed this? “It’s a three-day weekend. Didn’t you say—?”

“You were out late last night,” Mom says. “Let’s stick with the regular curfew tonight. That should give you plenty of time to hang out with your friends.”

58://Emma

THE ROAD TO RICK’S HOUSE takes forever. I drive slower when I reach the unpaved section, partially to avoid potholes and partially because I’m not thrilled about being dragged to this bonfire. I know Kellan is up to something. She told me she ran into Josh while dropping off my car, but she wouldn’t say what they talked about.

I should have begged Kellan to cash in her favor another time. She could have driven out here with Tyson in the pickup, or taken the car she shares with her mom. But she wanted me to come with her. And knowing there’s a pregnancy in her near future, I decided that a bonfire at the lake is an important place to keep an eye on her.

“It must be the endorphins from the bike ride,” Kellan says, jiggling her feet in the passenger seat. “I got home, took a shower, and now I’m feeling totally refreshed.”

We approach a gravel lot full of parked cars.

“Only an hour, right?” I ask.

“One hour,” Kellan says. “We say hi, sit by a few fires, and if you’re still hating it, we can go back to your place and watch a movie.”

I almost laugh and tell Kellan I rented Wayne’s World. But the last thing I want to admit is that I watched it to win over Cody.

I ease behind a bunch of cars. A few kids are hanging around drinking beer, but most people are heading toward a dirt path through the pine trees.

Kellan points to an open space on the right. “Park there.”

At the same time, we realize that would put us two spaces from Sydney’s convertible. When a truck’s tires roll onto the gravel behind us, Kellan and I both glance into her side mirror.

“Tyson’s pickup!” she says. “Let’s park next to him instead.”

I steer over and pull in beside Tyson. There’s a senior guy in the passenger seat and another in the bed steadying a heap of firewood.

“Kel!” Tyson says, hopping out of the cab. “Hey, Em!”

Kellan opens her door and gets out. “We have names,” she says. “Two syllables each.”

The seniors slap Tyson on the back, and then they each grab an armload of logs and head toward the pine trees. Tyson walks to the back of the truck and gathers together a stack of logs.

“Want to help?” he asks. “It’s a short walk to the bonfire pits.”

Kellan crosses her arms over her chest. “Do I look like I’m built for heavy labor?”

I grab a couple logs.

“Thanks, Emma,” Tyson says, shaking his head in Kellan’s direction. “At least someone knows how to be useful.”

Kellan lifts the tailgate of the truck, clicking it into place. “Look at me, being useful.”

She skips off down the path with Tyson following. I reposition the wood in my arms, take a deep breath, and start after them.

THE SKY IS DEEP PURPLE with a thin streak of amber above the treetops. Most of the light down here comes from six flickering bonfires dotting the shore. On the other side of Crown Lake is the public beach. I can barely make out the shadowy outlines of the concession stand and pavilion.

“Anyone want a beer?” a guy asks. He’s a senior. Scott, maybe? He pulls himself a can from a six-pack and dangles the rest in front of us.

“No, thanks,” I say.

Kellan holds up her Sprite. If Scott gave her a beer, I might be tempted to whack it out of her hand to keep her from drinking tonight and making any bad decisions.

Tyson eyes the cans of beer, but Kellan lowers her palm on his scalp and makes him shake his head no.

“Don’t even think about it,” she says. “You’re driving.”

“You’re right,” Tyson says. “My dad would murder me.”

“And I’d hide the body in wet concrete,” Kellan adds.

Scott shrugs and continues down the beach.

The three of us move closer to the fire. Tyson reaches for a log from a nearby pile and tosses it on. It smokes for a minute before flames start licking around the wood.

I run my fingers through the cool sand. Dozens of people are gathered around each bonfire, but I haven’t seen Josh or Sydney yet. The entire time we’ve been here, I’ve watched couples peel away and head into the trees. Imagining Josh in there with Sydney makes my stomach twist up tight.

I look across the water at the quiet shore of the public beach. When Kellan and I were there the other day, I spotted Josh and Sydney’s future house somewhere on this side of the lake. It’s probably just a short walk down the beach. In a way, it feels sadly appropriate that the bonfire is here. Tonight, Josh will begin disappearing into a future where the only place he and I remain friends is on the Internet.

I notice Graham sitting at the next fire over, roasting two marshmallows on a long stick. As Graham pulls his stick from the fire, he catches me watching. He waves at me, and I nod back.

“There he is!” Tyson points down the beach.

I follow Tyson’s outstretched arm. Two bonfires over, I see Josh. He’s sitting with Sydney and her friends on a thick log. Josh is staring into the fire, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his sweatshirt.

“Josh!” Tyson shouts.

I pull my knees up to my chest and whisper, “Let’s not.”

“Not bother him?” Tyson says. “Seriously, if that boy’s getting too A-list for us, I might have to kick his ass.”

Kellan puts her hand on my back and rubs in slow circles.

“Josh!” Tyson yells again.

Josh lifts his head, but only to look out across the lake. Sydney is talking to a friend. I think it’s Shana Roy, but I can only see the back of her head.

“He’s kind of far away,” Kellan says. “Maybe he doesn’t hear you.”

I grab onto Tyson’s sleeve. “Just let him be, okay?”

“This’ll get his attention,” Tyson says. He cups his hands over his mouth and shouts, “Yo, dumbass!”

In a delayed reaction, Josh turns our way.

59://Josh

I WAIT FOR SHANA to start laughing again. That’ll be my chance to cut into her conversation with Sydney. The drunk college guy sitting next to Shana leans in, makes some remark and… there she goes!

“Sydney?” I say.

She turns toward me, her lips pressed softly together.

“I’m going to say hi to my friends for a minute.”

She looks down the shore to where Tyson, Kellan, and Emma are sitting in the sand around a medium-size fire. “Was that your friend who just shouted ‘yo, dumbass’?”

“Tyson,” I say. “I’m sure he meant it with love.”

“I’ll go with you,” she says. She stands up and shimmies the top of her dress higher on her chest. There’s no denying that she looks amazing tonight.

As we start walking, Sydney steps closer to me. “I haven’t really talked to Kellan or Emma since fifth grade.”

“I’ll be fine,” I say, both to Sydney and to myself. I know Emma will behave, but there’s no telling with Kellan. Earlier this week, she was calling Sydney a skank.

We pass the largest bonfire, where twenty or thirty kids from school have gathered. Most are drinking beer, and a few are smoking. Several girls wave at Sydney as we pass, and then quickly lean into each other and whisper.

When we approach the next bonfire, Emma is resting her head against her knees. I wonder what made her decide to come here after all. She acknowledges me with a faint nod, and then gazes into the flames. Kellan is sitting beside her, rubbing Emma’s back. Tyson glances at Sydney’s chest, and then jumps his attention to me.

“Hey there,” he says. “I didn’t realize you two were here already.”

“You mean the ‘yo, dumbass’ was for someone else?” I ask.

Tyson grins and slaps me five.

“Thanks for letting me borrow Josh for the night,” Sydney says. “I know you guys are really close. Did you all drive out here together?”

Emma and Kellan don’t respond, but Tyson shrugs and says, “I drove my truck. Some seniors needed help bringing out the firewood.”

“Then thanks for keeping us warm,” Sydney says, leaning against my arm. As she does, I catch Emma’s eyes flicker in our direction.

“It’s your dad’s truck,” Kellan says to Tyson. She stands up and wipes the sand off her jeans. “So, Josh, who are you two hanging out with?”

It feels like she’s challenging me, even though I’m not doing anything wrong. “We’re with Sydney’s friends.”

“Shana’s my friend,” Sydney says, “but I’ve never met those other people before. They go to Hemlock State.”

Tyson throws another log onto the fire. As Kellan looks between Sydney and me, there’s an awkward silence. I shouldn’t have come over here.

Finally, Sydney smiles at Kellan. “The last time we hung out was at your fifth-grade birthday party, wasn’t it?”

Kellan pulls her head back. “You remember that?”

Sydney nods. “We were on the same team for the water balloon toss.”

Tyson pokes at the fire with a stick.

Emma remains facing the fire, slowly rocking her chin between her knees.

“We didn’t win,” Sydney says, “but I take full responsibility for that. It was a bad throw.”

Kellan smiles. “You’re forgiven.”

Tyson slides over, patting the sand next to him. “Why don’t you guys sit down?”

Emma pushes herself up. “I’m getting something to drink. Does anyone want anything?”

Without waiting for an answer, she walks down the beach.

60://Emma

KELLAN APPROACHES ME at the coolers. “Are you okay?”

“I just want to leave,” I say. “Has it been an hour yet?”

Kellan dips her hand into the cooler, fishing out some ice. “I’m so sorry. It was stupid to make you come out here,” she says. “I was hoping things would be different.”

“They’re not,” I say. But in truth, they’ll never be the same.

Kellan throws an ice cube into the lake.

I glance over to our bonfire. Josh and Sydney aren’t there anymore. Tyson is laughing at some guys who are spitting beer on the flames.

“It was a dumb idea,” Kellan says, “but I was hoping you and Josh might—”

“Josh is with Sydney now,” I say firmly. “Didn’t you see them? If I had a chance with him, I missed it. No, I didn’t miss it. I threw it away.”

Kellan stares at me, but there’s nothing for her to say.

“Please,” I say. “I just want to go home.”

“Who’s going home?” Tyson strolls over and slings one arm around each of us. “No one’s going home yet. We just got here.”

Kellan looks from Tyson to me.

“You should stay,” I tell her. “I’m fine driving home by myself.”

“No way,” Kellan says, touching my hand with her cold fingers. She turns to Tyson. “We’re going to head out, maybe go over to Emma’s to watch a movie.”

“Why?” Tyson asks. “Aren’t you having a good time?”

“I’m just not feeling—” I catch a glance between Kellan and Tyson. She’s not ready to leave, but she’s too loyal of a friend to tell me. “I’m too tired for a movie. When I get home, I’m going straight to bed.”

Kellan studies my face. “I can leave right now if you want.”

“You should stay,” I say. “I’d feel bad if you left.”

Tyson grins at Kellan. “I can drive you home.”

When I was grabbing wood from the back of Tyson’s truck, I noticed a couple of rolled up sleeping bags. On their way home, what if Tyson and Kellan pull onto a side road in the middle of nowhere? What if they hop in back and unroll the bags beneath the night sky?

Ta-da. Lindsay is conceived.

“Are you okay?” Kellan asks me. “You made this weird face for a second.”

I point a finger at Kellan and then Tyson. “Don’t move. Seriously. Don’t go anywhere.”

I turn and sprint up the beach.

I STOP RUNNING as I near Sydney’s group.

Behind the log Josh and Sydney are sitting on, the pine trees cast huge shadows. I walk through the darkness and tap Josh’s shoulder. He shifts his body around. When he realizes it’s me, he smiles.

Sydney turns around, too. “How’s it going, Emma?”

“Hey, Sydney,” I say. “Sorry to bother you guys, but I…”

Everyone around the bonfire is staring at me now.

Josh scoots over to make room on the log. “Want to sit?”

“I can’t,” I say. “I was just wondering… would you mind… can I borrow your sweatshirt?”

As he unzips it, I lean close to his ear and whisper, “And your wallet, too. I’ll bring it back in a second, I swear.”

Josh must realize everyone’s watching because he sets his sweatshirt on the log before slipping his wallet into it, and then he passes them both to me.

“I’ll be right back,” I say.

I disappear into the shadows. Draping Josh’s sweatshirt over one arm, I slowly open his wallet. I slide my finger into the fold behind his student I.D. and… there it is!

I pull out the condom, its wrapper creased and worn, and stuff it into the pocket of Josh’s sweatshirt. Then I sneak up behind him again. I press the wallet against his side and he casually takes it.

“I’M STILL HERE,” Kellan says when I get back. “But Tyson went down to spit Mountain Dew into the fire. That boy is hard to control.”

Kellan tries sounding annoyed by Tyson’s antics, but I know she loves it.

“So why did you want me to wait?” she asks.

I look down at Josh’s sweatshirt in my hands. I feel stupid for what I’m about to say, but I don’t know what else to do. “It’s getting cold,” I tell her, lifting the sweatshirt between us.

Kellan stares at the sweatshirt, and then at me.

“I just thought… you’re going to need this,” I say.

She raises one eyebrow like I’ve gone insane. When I don’t move, she takes the sweatshirt and slides her arms into the sleeves. If Kellan and Tyson are going to have sex tonight, she needs to at least have the option of using protection. Of course, she may not discover the condom in time. Or she may find the condom but decide not to use it because it’s too ratty. But if I can’t warn her about the pregnancy, this is the best I can do.

“Is this Josh’s sweatshirt?” she asks. She holds the cuff to her nose. “Have you ever noticed how Josh smells like a pine forest?”

My throat squeezes up tight. I give her a hug and say, “It’s a great sweatshirt. You should put your hands in the pockets. They’re so warm.”

Then I say goodbye and walk to the path between the trees.

61://Josh

I SIT WITH MY FEET buried in the sand, my sneakers beside me. With my knees facing the fire and a thick blanket around my shoulders, I’m able to stay warm. I’m not sure whose blanket this is, but Shana was wrapped in it before. When she left with one of the college guys, I claimed it.

Sydney went up to the parking area a few minutes ago. Someone called her cell phone saying there were hot drinks available. A few of her friends are still sitting on the log on the other side of the bonfire. They’re juniors like her, but I don’t know their names.

The fire where Emma, Tyson, and Kellan were sitting has almost burned out. All that remains are glimmering orange embers. A few times, I saw Tyson and Kellan walking along the shore, but it’s been a while since I’ve seen them. And I haven’t seen Emma since she brought back my wallet.

I turn and look out at the water. The dark sky and the trees blend seamlessly. The lake is nearly black, with small moonlit ripples lapping toward the shore.

“Do you have room for me?” Sydney asks. She’s standing above me, her fingers wrapped around a Styrofoam cup.

I take the warm cup and she sits in the sand next to me. The steam rising from the opening in the plastic lid smells like hot chocolate.

“I’ll share it with you,” she says, “if you’ll share the blanket.”

I lift a corner of the blanket and she scoots her body close to mine, wrapping us together. The voices around the bonfire settle into a hush.

Sydney holds out her hand and I give her the cup. She takes a small sip. “That was sweet of you to give Emma your sweatshirt. I always knew you were one of the nice guys.”

I turn to her. “How do you mean?”

She smiles and offers me the cup. “Trust me, not every guy would give up his sweatshirt just because a girl asks.”

I take a sip of hot chocolate. “Emma and I have been close for a long time.”

Sydney exhales slowly, tilts her head back, and looks up at the stars.

“If you told me you were cold,” I say, “I would’ve given my sweatshirt to you, too.”

She hugs her knees against her chest.

“And to be fair,” I add, “I think you’re one of the nice girls.”

“Unfortunately,” she says, “being nice doesn’t mean you get everything you want.”

It feels like she’s talking about us. Even though a relationship with Sydney isn’t what I want, hearing her say those words makes me sad.

I pull the blanket tighter around us. If Sydney wanted to rest her head against my shoulder, I would let her. But she doesn’t. So we just sit here, side by side, sharing the warm drink until it’s gone.

62://Emma

I DON’T TURN ON my bedroom light or even my desk lamp as I sit in front of my computer and sign onto AOL.

“Welcome!”

I click on Facebook in my Favorite Places. The white box opens and I type in my email address and password. The moment my finger presses Enter, the monitor crackles and flashes. As the light fades, the AOL screen reappears.

“Welcome!”

When I look in Favorite Place again, it no longer lists Facebook. I turn away from the computer and stare into my dark room.

Fifteen years from now, I did exactly as I said I would.

It’s over.

I’M RELIEVED that my mom and Martin are still out. I head into their bathroom, where I brush my teeth and pull my hair into a scrunchie. It’s strange to see myself without my E pendant on.

When I get back to my room, I take the broken necklace out of my backpack and set it next to the blue vase on my dresser. At some point I’ll get around to having it fixed.

I change into a long T-shirt and climb into bed.

Maybe my future self really did need to focus more on the life around her. Maybe it’ll help make things better. Or maybe my future self feels a connection to my current self, and she knew that I needed to focus on my here and now.

I reach over to my stereo and slide in Kind of Blue. My dad used to play Miles Davis for me when I couldn’t fall asleep.

Outside, I hear a car drive up the street. For a moment, I think it’s my mom and Martin returning from their night out, but it idles in front of Josh’s house, the headlights reflecting onto my window.

I don’t have to look outside to know it’s Sydney’s car. She’s probably leaning over to kiss Josh’s cheek right now. If she leans in again, he’ll turn, pressing his lips against hers.

I didn’t feel it coming, but suddenly tears are pouring down my face.

I’m crying because Josh is going to marry Sydney and they’re going to have a beautiful life together. And maybe I’ll have an okay life, too, but I’ll never meet someone like Josh again. Josh is loving and kind, and he knows me better than anyone. He knows the real me, and he likes me for who I am. Josh is… Josh. And now he’s gone.

I press my wet face into my pillow. This is what heartbreak feels like.

63://Josh

“DON’T TURN OFF the engine until you get home,” I say. “It might not start again.”

Graham pulls his hand away from the ignition. “Good idea.”

When I left the bonfire, I asked a few people for a ride home, but everyone was heading to other parties. Then I noticed Graham Wilde about to jumpstart his car. I helped him hook up the cables and then he offered me a lift.

When I open the passenger door to get out, Graham says, “Say hi to Emma for me.”

I lean my arms against his lowered window. “Can I ask you something? When the two of you were going out, did you ever really like her?”

His headlights dim slightly, so he taps the accelerator and they brighten again. “You’re her good friend, right?”

“Yes,” I say. “I am.”

“I did like her,” he says. “But neither of us wanted anything serious. It was just fun, you know?”

I look away for a second. I can still see him groping Emma in the dugout.

“Emma’s awesome,” Graham says. “If I did want something long-term, she’d be hard to top.”

The headlights weaken again, and I step back from the car. Graham puts it into reverse and backs away, waving out his window.

When I open my front door, Mom and Dad are reading magazines, pretending they haven’t been waiting up.

“That didn’t sound like Sydney’s car,” Dad says.

“It wasn’t,” I say, walking up to my room.

I TURN MY RADIO to a low volume and then sit on the floor, my back against the bed. Next to me are the eight charcoal sketches from earlier.

Downstairs, there’s a knock at the door. I can hear Dad answer it, followed by they voice of… Tyson? Seconds later, two pairs of feet come charging up the stairs.

“Get up!” Tyson says, flinging open my bedroom door. Kellan stands beside him, wearing my black sweatshirt. “You heard the man!”

I put my hand on the mattress and push myself up. “What are you doing here?”

“We’re here to make sure you and—” Kellan stops talking when she notices the sketches. “Did you draw those?”

“Focus!” Tyson says to Kellan. “Besides, I can’t even tell what they are. Go back to drawing Tweety Bird, Picasso. Okay, so here’s the deal. We’re kidnapping you.”

“You and Emma,” Kellan says.

“Obviously, neither one of you were having fun tonight,” Tyson says.

“Not just tonight,” Kellan says, looking at Tyson. “They’ve been like this all week!”

“Guys!” I say. “What’s going on?”

Tyson steps forward. “What we’re saying is, the night’s not over.”

“And this time, it’s going to be all four of us.” Kellan puts her hands on her hips. “Just the four of us. We talked to your parents, and they’ve extended your curfew until one o’clock.”

I can’t believe it. “Seriously?”

Tyson nods toward Kellan. “The girl’s got charm.”

“Now we need to get Emma,” Kellan says.

When Graham brought me home, I noticed Emma’s car in her driveway. I looked up to her bedroom window, but the light was out.

“She went to sleep early,” I say.

Kellan raises her hands in mock frustration. “I don’t care! She doesn’t have a choice.”

“How are you going to get hold of her? You can’t call her this late.”

Tyson pulls a flashlight from his back pocket. “The four of us go way back,” he says. “I know how you and Emma used to communicate.”

Kellan picks up my sketchpad, then she pulls a marker from my desk, and starts writing a note.

Tyson walks to the bathroom, slides open the window, and shouts, “Emma! Wake the hell up and look outside!”

Kellan laughs as she tears the note out of the sketchpad. “Oh, there’s no way her mom heard that.”

I shake my head and follow my friends into the bathroom.

64://Emma

SOMEONE SHOUTED outside my window, pulling me out of my sleep.

The last thing I remember is my mom peeking into my room around eleven. I didn’t say anything as she kissed my cheek and then closed my door.

I stretch across to my nightstand and press the top of my alarm clock, lighting up the red numbers. It’s only 11:20 PM.

The voice isn’t as loud this time. “Hold it steady.”

Is that Tyson?

I push off my covers and walk to the window. When I look out, I cover my mouth so I don’t laugh. Tyson has his forehead pressed against the screen of Josh’s bathroom window. He’s holding a sheet of paper against the glass. Someone else in the bathroom is shining a light on the note. Thankfully, my pink binoculars are still in the top drawer of my desk.

When I lower the binoculars, Tyson waves and removes the note from the window.

“And I’m serious!” he shouts.

Kellan appears at the window with the flashlight shining beneath her chin. “We’re both serious!”

When Kellan and Tyson leave, Josh walks up to the window. He doesn’t say anything, but he smiles and shrugs his shoulders. Kellan pushes him out of the way, holds her wrist to the window, and points at her watch.

I give her a thumbs-up, wriggle into some clothes, and tiptoe downstairs.

TYSON’S TRUCK IS PARKED at the curb with him in the driver’s seat. Kellan is squeezed next to him, and Josh is standing outside holding the door open for me.

He smiles shyly as I hop in.

“It’s going to be a tight squeeze,” Tyson says.

Josh climbs in after me, but the door won’t close all the way.

“You’ll need to get squishy,” Kellan says.

I press as close to Kellan as I can. Josh slides over until our bodies touch from our shoulders down to our knees. When he slams the door shut, Tyson shifts into gear and the truck jolts forward. Josh lengthens the seatbelt before handing it to me. I stretch it across both our laps and buckle us in.

“Where are we headed?” Josh asks.

He had nothing to do with this? I glance over at Kellan, but she continues looking at the road with a smile.

“There’s only one thing we all need right now,” Tyson says.

He and Kellan throw their fists in the air and shout, “GoodTimez!”

I’VE NEVER BEEN to GoodTimez Pizza after hours, and it’s eerily quiet. Tyson entered the security code at the door and flipped on a few lights. Thankfully, he didn’t turn on the disco music.

Within minutes, Tyson and Kellan are having a heated competition over a game of Pac-Man. Kellan is gripping the joystick, shouting, “Suck it, ghosties!” every time she eats a power pellet. She’s wearing Josh’s sweatshirt, but I’m not going to ask if she found anything in the pocket. I’ll consider it a good sign that she still has it on.

I wander away from the arcade and sit in one of the dining booths. After a little bit, Josh slides in across from me. “We’ve got some weird friends.”

“True,” I say. “But the boy is weirder.”

“I’ll give you that,” he says. “And yet, I have a feeling the kidnapping was Kellan’s idea.”

“Did you have to sneak out, too?”

Josh shakes his head. “They talked my parents into letting me stay out until one.”

“No way!”

We don’t say anything for a minute, but it’s not awkward. It’s good to be with Josh again. Even if he’s with Sydney, we can still be friends.

Josh glances toward the arcade. It’s Tyson’s turn at the joystick now, with Kellan jumping around, shouting, “Get him, ghosties! Get him!”

“There’s something I need to tell you,” Josh says, running his finger over a knick in the tabletop.

“What is it?”

He breathes in deep and then slowly exhales.

“If you want, I can go first,” I say. “Because I need to tell you something, too.”

He smiles. “I would love it if you went first.”

“It’s gone,” I say. I glance over at Kellan and Tyson, still absorbed in their game of Pac-Man. “We can’t get onto Facebook anymore.”

Josh leans into the table. “Really? How’d that happen?”

“Tonight, fifteen years from now, I cancel my account,” I say. “Originally, I was just going to change my password, but then the whole thing disappeared like it was never there.”

Josh leans back, obviously shocked by the news.

“Now it’s your turn,” I say.

He places both hands on the table. His face is flushing from his cheeks to his ears.

“Just say it, Josh.”

“I don’t know what’s going to happen in the future,” he says. “And I guess neither of us will now. But I’ve decided not to be with Sydney.”

I don’t know how to respond.

“It never felt right,” he continues, and then he looks at me. “She wasn’t the one.”

A blue plastic ball smacks the side of Josh’s head. We both look over at the ball pit. Kellan’s already in there, and Tyson is pushing himself through the entrance in the netting.

After he dives in, Tyson shouts, “Come on! Less talking, more ball-pitting!”

Kellan tosses a bunch of the rainbow-colored balls into the air.

Josh looks at me and we both smile. We head over and look through the mesh. Kellan and Tyson are stretched out, hogging the area beneath the slides. I go in first, sinking down to my knees, and Josh tumbles in after me. The balls rise and shift around us, covering us up to our chests.

Kellan tosses me a yellow ball and I catch it.

“When did we take that picture of the four of us in here?” she asks.

I think about my copy of that photo, currently ripped in pieces in my journal. One day I’ll tape it back together.

“Last year,” Tyson says. “I’ve still got mine in my locker.”

“Me too,” Josh says. He chucks an orange ball at Tyson’s chest.

Kellan tosses another yellow ball at me. I catch it and throw it to Tyson, then lower my arm back into the pit. As I do, my pinky finger touches the side of Josh’s hand. I’m about to pull it away, but instead I leave my hand where it is.

A moment later, Josh lifts his pinky over mine.

65://Josh

ALL WEEK, I’ve known bits and pieces of my future, and I’ve wondered how my current actions affect me in fifteen years. But when Emma’s finger touched mine, I was only thinking about now.

If I moved my hand away, I knew Emma would play it off as an accident. But I didn’t want that to happen. So I slid my finger over hers. When she didn’t pull away, I went one step further. Now I’m covering her hand completely.

“Want to see something?” Kellan reaches for Tyson’s palm, and then drags her index finger down to his wrist. “This is your career line.”

“My career line?” Tyson says. “Where’s my love line? Show me something sexy, woman!”

Kellan lets go of his hand. “You’re hopeless.”

Emma laughs. As she does, she turns her hand over, lacing her fingers into mine. For as many nerve endings as I thought I had in my hand, I now realize there are a hundred times more.

“You guys are being quiet,” Kellan says. She looks carefully between me and Emma. “Are you plotting your revenge for being kidnapped?”

Hardly.

“Hold on!” Tyson says. He lifts both of his arms out of the ball pit. “Shhh… Listen. If any of you can read stomachs, tell me what this means.”

We all wait patiently until his stomach growls.

“Never mind,” he says. “That was easy. I’m starving!”

Kellan grasps the netting around the ball pit and hoists herself up. “There’s an entire kitchen back there that we can raid.”

Emma slides her body lower until the plastic balls touch her chin.

Kellan staggers across the pit and pushes her way outside. Tyson follows after her.

“You guys want to come?” he asks.

Emma squeezes my hand.

“I’m not hungry,” I say.

“I’m good,” Emma says.

“We won’t be long,” Kellan says. “We’ll probably just heat up some garlic knots.”

“Take your time,” Emma says.

When I hear the door to the kitchen swing shut, I finally look directly at Emma. She smiles at me. I push aside a few of the plastic balls so I can see her entire face.

“Much better,” I say.

Emma leans her head back and her smile fades. “Josh, I need to tell you something else. And this is probably the worst time to say it.”

I groan. “This doesn’t sound promising.”

She shifts onto her side and looks up at me, still holding my hand. “School will be out in a few weeks, and I have a feeling this could be the most incredible summer,” she says. “But my dad asked me to spend the summer in Florida. I really want to see him and Cynthia, and I especially want to get to know Rachel.”

Even though I’m holding Emma’s hand for the first time, I already miss her. It would be amazing to spend this summer together. A big part of me wishes she wouldn’t leave. And yet, I’m happy for her.

“I know how much that means to you,” I say.

“I know you do.”

“Of course, I’d be stupid not to try talking you out of leaving for the whole summer.”

“I’m not leaving for the whole summer,” she says. “Probably just six weeks.”

“Or maybe four?”

Emma grins. “Five.”

“Four and a half and I’ll throw you a welcome back party.”

She laughs. “You don’t throw a party for someone who’s only been gone four-and-a-half weeks.”

“Then how about a really nice date?” I reach across and find her other hand resting on her stomach. My balance shifts and I slide a little lower into the ball pit.

“In a way, I’m glad Facebook’s gone,” Emma says. “I hated obsessing about what I didn’t want in my future.”

“It’s better to focus on what you do want,” I say.

Her lips part slightly. “I’m starting to figure that out.”

“But I’d love to know,” I say, leaning closer, “what this will change.”

I feel her breath on my lips as we both whisper, “Hopefully everything.”