Yeah, me too. “She wanted to go to prom with me.”
There.
I said it.
Admitting it out loud is half the battle.
Phoebe blinks, clearly confused. “But you don’t like going to dances. I heard Mom telling Dad this is the first one you’re going to and Dad laughed and said it was a waste of time and money.”
Of course he did. “Well, I’mgoing, and I have a date.”
“Is she Harper?”
“No. Her name is Maddie.”
My sister tilts her head, her expression curious. “There’s a girl in my class named Maddie. Shepinchespeople.”
I have no idea what to say to that. “She sounds like she sucks.”
“It’s fine. Last week I said her dog was ugly and now she leaves me alone.”
A laugh escapes my throat.
My sister says the wackiest shit sometimes and can be so freaking cute at others. Mostly she’s annoying—but these rare glimpses remind me she’s only trying to be a Big Kid. That’s the reason she runs her mouth; she’s emulating me, Mom says.
Occasionally she’s not a troll.
Phoebe sighs as if the weight of the world were on her shoulders. “Come on, Easton. I’m younger than you, but I’m not an idiot. I saw you kissing Harper.”
Her blunt admission is the last thing I need her spilling to my parents. I have to give her a peace offering to keep her quiet.
“I can confidently say that any chance I had with Harper is officially over. Do you want to see the proof?”
Phoebe nods fervently, eager to be included in my secrets.
I pull the letter from its hiding spot and unfold it. Phoebe may only be seven, but she is wise—so when her little eyeballs scan the letter, my heart flip-flops.
“What does it say?” Her brow is wrinkled.
I forget that she’s still learning to read and definitely does not need me crushing her dreams about love and life and romance by telling her what is actually written on these pages.
“We were supposed to go to prom together—she’d rather I go with someone else.”
“But she wrote ‘I like you.’ See? Right there.” My sisters little tiny index finger taps on the paper, bull’s-eye on the sentence that saysSURPRISE, I LIKE YOU!in bold letters. “See?”
I do see. “It’s not important anymore. She thinks I like someone else.”
Phoebe consider this information, perky nose scrunched up. “Do youwantto go with the other girl?”
“I’m not sure.”
Two weeks ago I would have jumped at the chance the same way I jumped at the opportunity to take Maddie on a date. But after that ride in the car? After everything that’s gone on between Harper and me? Not sure.
I blink at Phoebe, caught off guard by her question. “I’m not sad about Harper’s letter,” I say—but my voice wavers enough for her to catch it, the smart little shit.
Her round face lights up with triumph. “You’re lying. I know it,” she says, poking my chest. “Right here. Sad heart.”
“Sad heart?” I echo, rolling my eyes. “Where do you get this stuff?”
