In the donation tent it’s even busier, but it’s at least air-conditioned. Everyone donating is relaxing back on their cots. The nurses move among them, checking in and bandaging everyone’s arms when they’re done. Jackson is hooked up to a blood bag already, looking more relaxed than the older woman next to him. He cracks jokes with her, clearly trying to make her feel more comfortable as the nurse withdraws the needle from her arm. I come over with some of Maddy’s cookies. The woman swoons over a story he’s telling about his old gig as a lifeguard. I stuff a cookie in my mouth when I pop back to thesnack table for more supplies, finally feeling a little more awake. Suddenly one of the nurses rushes past me.
I whirl around. The woman next to Jackson must have stood up too quickly and passed out. The nurse has barely finished wrapping the bright blue tape around Jackson’s arm to keep the cotton in place when he gets up to kneel next to the woman. I join him, sticking a straw in a juice box so it’s ready.
“You’re all right,” he says as she blinks her eyes open. “Feels awful, doesn’t it? I passed out from heatstroke last summer. You’re going to be fine.”
When she’s ready to stand, we help her over to the seating area. Once we make sure she’s okay, I head back to the snack table. But I’m intercepted by Luke.
“Why is he still here? He’s not a volunteer. Did he survive some kind of rare medical condition too? Was it his hair? Did it use to bebrown?”
“Drop it,” I say under my breath.
He follows me as I go around the side of the tent and back to the sinks by the restrooms to wash my hands.
“He’s not a registered volunteer. We could get in trouble.”
“We can use the help, Luke. Don’t be an asshole. If Izzy showed up to help, you’d be delighted.”
“What does Izzy have to do with it?” he asks.
“Nothing. Just, it’s nice to have him here—he’s got first aid training, he cares, that’s cool of him,” I say, pumping soap onto my hands.
“Whatever you say,” Luke says, rolling his eyes.
“What’s your deal?”
“Nothing, just didn’t know you guys were so close.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.
“You told him about Paris,” he says.
“Yeah, of course, why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know,” he says, frustrated. “I feel like I have to pry information out of you, but you’re just, like, sharing everything with some random dude.”
My anger builds. “Jackson isn’t random.”
Luke scoffs. “Sure. Do you even really like him?”
I toss my paper towel into the trash a little aggressively. “Why do you care? This can’t be about Jackson. He was a huge help back there. So what is it, Luke? What do you want to say to me?”
Luke opens his mouth, then closes it again.
“Yeah,” I say, stepping around him. “That’s what I thought.”
Chapter Seventeen
Sera
That night I can’t sleep, even though I’m exhausted from the blood drive and my fight with Luke. Now, at one in the morning, it’s all I can think about. I’m lying backward, feet where my head usually goes, trying to trick my body into thinking we haven’t already been lying here for over an hour tossing and turning. It cooled off quickly this afternoon and Dad turned off all the AC units, so the house is quiet and a little sticky with humidity. There’s a light breeze blowing my curtains around, bringing in the sound of peepers and June bugs humming. I plugged my phone in downstairs so I wouldn’t be tempted to doomscroll through Instagram, and I’ve counted the glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling three times.Forty-two.I’ve lost hope that I’ll sleep at all when I hear something hit one of my windows. I roll over, assuming it’s a moth or a squirrel clambering around the roof, but then there are two more distinct pings against the glass.
I get up and push my curtains to the side. In the thin moonlight I can just make out Luke standing on his back step.
I pull on jeans and throw a sweatshirt over my T-shirt. I haven’t snuck out with Luke in ages, but the instinct to go prepared is still there. I grab a light beach towel, just in case, and I put that in my small backpack. Then I creep down my stairs, shoes in hand. The house is dark. Mom, Dad, and Abbi are all asleep. I don’t risk going for my phone. I’m wearing my watch anyway, so I can call them if I need to. I ease the sliding door open and shut again, then slip on my sandals. I go around to the driveway and creep under the rhododendron where Luke and I used to hide during neighborhood flashlight tag.
I feel a shy bloom of worry in my stomach when I pop out on the other side.
“Hi,” he says, hands deep in the front pocket of his hoodie. “Thanks for coming out.”
