And when I open the door and see him blinking at me as if I’m wearing a prom dress and not my rattiest pair of jeans, I realize it doesn’t matter whether I consider this a big deal. Because it is to him.
“You look beautiful,” he says, though all he can see is my usual quilted jacket, my jeans—which have a hole in one knee—and my scuffed black Vans. Even my hair is just tied back in a messy bun. If Teddy was here, he’d probably raise an eyebrow and ask if I’d just gotten up. But it’s Sawyer who is standing before me, looking flustered.
“Thank you,” I say, and he beams at me. “So what’s the plan?”
“Well, it’s choose your own adventure, actually.”
“Is this going to end with me walking the plank of a pirate ship?” I say with a laugh. “Somehow I always ended up getting eaten by a crocodile in those things.”
“I promise that’s not one of the options,” he says, then rubs his hands together. “So here’s choice number one: bus, taxi, or walk.”
I can tell he thinks I’m going to opt for a taxi, but it’s unseasonably warm tonight, the first hint of spring in the air after so many months of cold and snow.
“Walk,” I say, and he nods, steering us away from the house, where I can practically feel Aunt Sofia and Uncle Jake still watching through the window.
“So how’s your break so far?” I ask as we start to stroll, and Sawyer laughs.
“Super nerdy. I’ve mostly been at the library for a history paper.”
“This whole history thing of yours…”
“I don’t know,” he says. “I just love it. There are so many different versions of the past. It’s like you can never find out enough. I know it’s kind of—”
“Charming,” I say, and he smiles. “So what about the ancestry stuff?”
He shrugs. “Well, we moved here last year when my grandpa got sick, and it made me realize I should probably know more about my own history too. And that I should be asking him more questions while he’s still around.”
I consider my own family tree, how few branches are left and how few people there are to tell me about them. Aunt Sofia tries; she hangs ornaments that belonged to my parents at Christmas and makes cupcakes on their birthdays. But Uncle Jake is like a lock without a key. And how can I blame him, when I understand better than anyone how hard it can be to talk about them?
But that still doesn’t make it any easier.
“Anyway, it was my grandpa’s side of the family that had a castle near Aberdeen, which is where I want to—” Sawyer stops abruptly and looks over at me. “You know what? I probably shouldn’t start talking about castles or I’ll never stop.”
“No, it’s interesting,” I say. “I barely know anything about my family history. And the closest I’ve been to a castle is one of those bouncy ones at birthday parties.”
He laughs. “Slightly less historical but way more fun.”
We pass under the metal scaffolding of the L train, where a man is playing his guitar, something slow and sweet and full of soul.
“So,” Sawyer says. “Next choice: fancy bistro, hole-in-the-wall Mexican place, or grab a slice of pizza and eat it in the park.”
“Pizza in the park,” I say without hesitation.
“I’m sensing a theme with you,” he says, but he looks pleased.
Once we get our slices, we find a wooden bench beneath a towering oak tree. In the distance a game of kickball is coming to an end, and the paths are busy with evening joggers and couples holding hands.
“This isn’t a complaint,” Sawyer says, opening up the pizza box and offering it to me first, “just an observation. But…you don’t have very expensive taste.”
“That’s true,” I say cheerfully, taking a bite.
“Is that why you didn’t want any of the money?”
The question catches me off guard. I lower my pizza, unsure what to say, wondering how he could possibly know that.
“Sorry,” he says. “Is this not okay to talk about?”
“No, it’s just…why do you assume…?”
