“Perfect. Let’s go.”
We step toward the door, but Nova pauses, running back to her nightstand. She places the stuffed monkey beside Mr. Twinkle Mao, then carefully adds the CD to a tall stack—at least thirty I’ve given her over the years. Among them, perched proudly, there’s Nirvana’sNevermind.If the CD’s there, it means she recently listened to it and I smile.
Maggie catches my look and something shifts in her eyes. Her gaze softens, moving from me to Nova, who’s whispering to Fleur.
“I’ll do the dishes,” Maggie mutters, heading out.
“No! It’s my turn,” Nova calls, following with Fleur trotting after her.
-*?? . ??? ? ?.-*??
Nova’s head rests on Maggie’s shoulder, her legs draped across my lap like she owns the space between us. Fleur’s curled up on her lap, purring softly, while she balances a steaming cup of cocoa milk in her free hand. The sweet, chocolatey scent mingles with the faint buttered popcorn smell still lingering from earlier. “I want to cut my hair.”
Both Maggie and I snap our heads toward her, tearing our eyes from the TV. “Huh?” we mutter at the same time.
“I want to cut my hair because it’s ruined and doesn’t grow anymore. I want to do a bob, so if it doesn’t grow, it’s because the choice to cut them was mine. Can you help me?”
Maggie exhales through her nose, rolling her eyes. “I messed up last time. I’ll take you to a hairdresser if you want.” And just like that, she shifts her gaze back to the episode ofModern Family.
Nova snorts and then turns those wide, pleading eyes on me. “Willyouhelp me? I don’t want to be like Britney Spears in 2006. Relax.”
She points her big doe eyes at me, and of course, I cave. I always cave. “I thought you were dying to be like Britney Spears?” I grin.
Her smile blooms, soft and mischievous, while Maggie’s arm automatically curls tighter around her shoulders. “I’m still waiting for Max to write me a song so we can break through as a duo.”
“Well, he’s coming back to San Francisco on August seventh,” I tell her, trying to keep it casual, “so you’ll have plenty of time.”
Her eyes light up, excitement flickering across her face before she turns back to the screen. Claire and Phil bicker in theglow of the television, laughter filling the room, but I can’t shake the thought that Nova hasn’t realized what August seventh really means. The day she loves. The day she hates.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Nova Marshall
PRESENT (2023)
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"Thank you for the tragedy. I need it for my art."
Kurt Cobain
“So you always wear different socks on purpose?”
I nod, glancing down at my red and blue socks as I lace up my sneakers. They go with the Spider-Man T-shirt I pulled on this morning. Then I stand and walk back to Sam’s side like it’s nothing. He hands me the chocolate milkshake he’d offered me on the way back from the park.
“It’s more convenient than hunting for matching socks every time I do laundry. I never find them anyway.”
“I wear Tom and Jerry socks,” he says, lifting a foot. “Too dressy for this outfit?”
I glance at the cartoon faces peeking out of his sneakers and chuckle. “I like them. Extra touch.”
Sam looks good even sweaty, with his light brown hair falling into his face and that bewitching smile that could win over halfthe city. He’s not the tallest in our group, but he still stands taller than me. Maggie’s just a little shorter than him, and together they’d look disgustingly perfect. The thought makes me sigh like I’m sixteen again, waiting for Joey and Pacey’s first kiss inDawson’s Creek.
Sam’s charisma is ridiculous. Every girl we pass turns to look at him, and he gives each of them the kind of smirk that should come with a warning label. The tabloids love him—which is why they’ve painted me as his “mystery girl” more than once. Another reason I almost never post photos with him.
But Sam was born in the spotlight, twenty-six years in it now, and he refuses to let the people he loves get dragged there with him. He even took a famous journalist to court once for filming his sister Jade without her consent. Jade’s eight, the sweetest kid alive, and since she started Maggie’s ballet classes, she hasn’t stopped bragging about her. Maggie adores her, too — though she always asks how that angel could possibly be related to her “freak of nature” brother.
Sam himself avoids Instagram like the plague, keeps his account private. But on Pinterest and Twitter? He’s relentless. Vision boards about whatever TV show he’s watching and live-tweets ofMasterChefjust to provoke his mom.
