“Everything okay?” I ask.
“Um, it seems my dad is... coming to my mom’s wedding?”
“Is that bad?”
“Well, it’s not good!”
“Okay.” I sit up, recognizing that our make-out session is going to be on hold for a moment.
“I mean,” Maggie says, finally standing up out of her crouch, “I wrote a song for my mom and Ron, all about their love and stuff, and now I have to perform that in front of my dad?”
“Will he be... jealous? Does he want to get back together with your mom?”
“No. It’s not that.” Maggie slowly paces around the room. “They were... They weren’t the right fit. But I know he’s bummed about the wedding. Like, six years after the divorce, Mom is moving on and he’s... not. I didn’t think he’d want to be there to watch, though.”
“Your mom invited him?”
“No, he asked her if he could come, which is so my dad. He said he wanted to see my band play. And see my sister officiate. ’Cause she’s, like, the one leading the ceremony.”
“Oh. That’s cool. What is her name again?”
Maggie pauses at the window, staring outside. “My sister?”
“Yeah.”
“Vivian.”
“Vivian... Was she in my grade?”
“Um. Year below you.”
“Vivian Spear... Oh yeah! I think I remember who that is. She’s pretty.”
“Mm.”
Maggie’s voice has gone cold, and I realize maybe it’s not the classiest thing to tell the girl you’ve just been making out with that you think her sister is attractive.
“Not as pretty as you, though!” I backpedal. “At all! Obviously. You’re the hottest girl I’ve ever known. I was just trying to be nice.”
“Thanks, Coco.” She doesn’t sound mad. Just kind of sad. Or something. She turns around from the window and sits back down next to me. “Anyway, Ron told Mom she should tell my dad he’s welcome, that it could be healing for the whole family if he’s there, so she did.” She chucks her phone onto her bag. “Kinda makes me want to barf.”
“Feel free. Just aim for the carpet and not my lap.”
Maggie falls backward onto the bed, arms sprawled out above her. “Why is everything so stupid?”
“I ask myself that all the time. Don’t move.” I grab my camera from the dresser and frame Maggie, adjusting the focus.
“Hey, I didn’t grant permission for this.”
“I’m sorry, your breathtaking beauty made me forget myself. Can I take your picture? In honor of you graduating in less than a month?”
“I guess so.” She stretches her mouth into a giant smile. “Anything in my teeth?”
“Nope, you’re golden.” I snap a pic, then another and another. Maggie’s completely goofy at first but gradually relaxes into something more natural. I snap a few more, then look at them in the viewfinder. The end-of-day light is shining onto her in this almost ethereal way. It’s like she’s glowing.
“Can I see?” Maggie is up on one elbow.
“Not yet.” I surprise myself with how decisively I pull the camera away.
