AJ made a noise of dissent at the back of her throat.
“Or you could do this,” said her mom.
The ancient washing machine clanged menacingly.
The park was located just outside the town center, right beyond the local grocery chain, Big Y. AJ felt seven years old again as her mom dropped them at the entrance.
They were the only two there. AJ unfastened the gate, and Emily beelined for the jungle gym.
“Age!” she cried from the top of the slide. “Oh my God, let’s practice.” She twisted on the spot, smiling, and AJ realized what she meant.
“Oh, you want to do the play?” she said.
Emily nodded. She was the only person AJ had told about her visit to Drew House. Just the important points: boy, girl, balcony. She’d left out the part about running away in terror.
AJ made a show of clearing her throat. “Ah, there she is, my beautiful Juliet,” she paraphrased in a false baritone. Emily smiled at this. “Oh, speak, bright angel!”
Emily shrieked with laughter—arguably the greatest sound in the world.
According to a body of research and the testing of a developmental specialist in Lee, Emily’s intellect would never surpass that of a nine-year-old. AJ often wanted to ask the person who had conducted this testing why, if that were true, laughter could collapse the distance between their supposedly disparate levels of intelligence.
To the outside world, AJ was the lucky twin. She had always known this and had spent her entire life working to justify having won the genetic coin toss. But to Emily, AJ was just…herself.
“Whoareyou?” asked Emily, giggles subsiding.
“Why, I am Romeo!” said AJ, dramatically.
Then a low voice spoke. “I would ask to see some ID if I were you.”
AJ’s heart sank.
Noah Drew was standing on the other side of the playground fence, a plastic Big Y bag clutched in his enormous hand. He must have been grabbing food before his shift at Reel World.
As Emily’s eyes caught on Noah, she stilled, straightening up. “Oh my God, Age,” she said breathlessly, in a very near imitation of Libby. “Who is that, Age?”
AJ was still in denial that this was happening. Noah took charge.
“I’m Noah,” he said warmly. “AJ’s friend.” His eyes calmly slid to AJ’s.
AJ introduced them, her cheeks coloring. Then she swung open the gate to let him in.
Emily and Noah were fast friends. They quickly fell into a game of tic-tac-toe on the park’s giant beige markers. As Noah frowned over each move, Emily giggled at his seriousness.
When Emily tired of tic-tac-toe, she transitioned to the tire swing, donning her teal Walkman. She hummed along to “Come on Over,” by Shania Twain, slowly spinning on the spot.
Noah turned to AJ. “Want to sit?”
AJ was embarrassed. She glanced at the shady bench where he’d left his grocery bag. “Okay.”
As they situated themselves, Noah’s familiar scent washed over her—Dial soap, and fancy French lavender laundry detergent, and something darker, saltier. He handed AJ a bag of vinegar chips then started in on his meatball sub.
AJ held the pouch but didn’t open it. “About yesterday—”
Noah shook his head, glancing over at her. “Don’t worry about that.”
“I shouldn’t have walked off.”
Noah snorted. “Yes, you should have,” he said. “That whole thing was super weird. We are super weird. My aunt—”
