“You should. He was cool. A lot cooler than the characters my classmates used for name inspiration. There were a lot of Wilburs and Miss Piggies in that lab.”
I laughed. “I bet it smelled terrible.”
“Oh, god, yeah. Have you had to dissect anything?”
“My biology class cut up cow eyeballs, but I refused.” Threw real fit, I did. Gabi joined my protest in solidarity. Our teacherended up giving us drawings of an eyeball to label for 80 percent credit. Tati shamed me for accepting a lesser grade, but Maggie and Byron, Gabi’s parents, applauded their daughter for taking a stand.
“You refused?” Henry repeated, incredulous, like he was personally affronted. “Why?”
“Well, it’s disgusting, for starters. And inhumane.”
“Are you a vegetarian?”
“No.”
“Then it’s not inhumane. If you eat burgers, dissecting an eyeball in the name of science isn’t a big deal.”
“That’s…one way to look at it,” I said, reluctant to admit that he had a point. “No pun intended.”
He smiled, and I almost swooned, like the ladies in the romance novels I snuck from my sister’s bookshelves. I believed what he’d said about being a huge nerd, but he also had a sense of humor. After the screaming match I’d had with Tati, it was refreshing to be with someone who didn’t take himself too seriously.
“This is the weirdest conversation I’ve ever had,” I said, my voice raspy thanks to my earlier sob-fest.
He shrugged. “Are your parents expecting you home soon?”
“Definitely not.”
I could tell my response raised some questions, but to his credit, he didn’t pry. “You feel like taking a walk down the beach?”
***
I get lost in the memory as the elevator carries me up to the apartment, where my sister is undoubtedly waiting, simmering with annoyance at the late hour and the male company I was keeping down at the pool.
While Tati’s interruption was unfortunate, how lucky that I chose to stay at the Towers tonight rather than visiting my other happy place, the Marine Conservation Park.
For the last few years, every couple of months or so, I’ve snuck in well past closing, late enough to bypass the rent-a-cop who makes nightly rounds. Through trial and error, I’ve learned the easiest entry point and memorized which paths are out of range of the security cameras. Turtle would disapprove, I’m sure, and Tati would ground me for a thousand years if she found out I was going so far down the beach in the dark—not to mention entering private property without permission—but the Marine Conservation Park is as grounding as it is sentimental. When I’m really missing my parents, or reeling from an argument with my sister, or feeling more lost than usual, thirty minutes spent watching the sea turtles or the rays swim gentle circles in their pools is enough to make me feel like I’m back on solid ground.
But had I indulged in a park escape tonight, I would’ve missed Henry.
It’s as if our reunion was written in the stars.
Henry
Whitney 3:46 p.m.
Text me when you land.
7:39 p.m.
Did you make it?
9:22 p.m.
Hello?!
11:08 p.m.
You’re leaving me to wonder if you died in a fiery crash?
