I can’t tell if he’s making fun of me or if he’s genuinely asking. Either way, I give him a genuine answer. “Just a handful or so. I needed enough to form an assembly line.”
Matt pauses. “You forced your imaginary friends to work? I hope they unionized.”
“Oh, they did,” I assure him. “I was their union president and they had unlimited vacation time and a hefty pension. How about you? Did you have invisible friends as a child or did you only see dead people?”
Matt’s cheeks pull back in a smile, but I don’t enjoy it as much as I could when I catch Marco looking between the two of us with a noticeably larger smile. “Well,” he says, sounding pleased as pie. “As much as I hate to miss out on the stellar entertainment you two provide, I have work to finish. But please, do continue chatting in my absence.”
Marco walks away in reverse, enjoying our discomfort until he turns around at the dress form. Matt and I are left looking at each other and he seems like a giant with me sitting and him standing. I bring myself up to my full height, and even though he’s still much taller, at least it’s not quite as dramatic.
I’m tapping my hands against the outside of my legs in a restless gesture as I’m left to fill the silence, as always. “So I guess it’s safe to assume that there’s a new laptop in that distinctly non-snazzy laptop case?”
Matt nods. “You would assume correct. Much as I’ve enjoyed slacking off the past few days, I need to get work done. Intergalactic love triangles wait for no one.”
I’m about to aggressively ask which love triangle he’s alluding to when my phone vibrates on the desk. I steal a peek at the screen and see that Daniella is FaceTiming me.
“It’s my sister,” I say as I pick the phone up. “She and I have been playing phone tag for the past couple of days so I have to answer.”
“Go for it,” he says, pulling his own phone out of his pocket and looking at the screen.
I answer the call and a second later Daniella’s face appears in front of me.
“She lives!” my sister yells, pushing the sunglasses she’s wearing on top of her head. From the looks of it, she’s sitting outside.
“I’m alive and well,” I affirm. “I tried calling you yesterday, but you didn’t answer.”
“I know. Jayden had a runny nose again, so I took him to the doctor and they said it’s probably just a viral infection and it will pass. I honestly don’t know what to do anymore. He’s sick almost every other day. I’m paying a king’s ransom for him to go to this fancy daycare and I’m pretty sure the second he gets there he licks a petri dish of bubonic plague.”
There’s a lovely visual.
“On the plus side,” I try, “I bet he’s building up great immunity. By next year he’ll be indestructible.”
“Yeah, I hope so, because I’m going to get fired with how much time I’ve been taking off lately. And he’s not even tired when he’s sick, either. I keep him home and all he wants to do is play soccer. And when I sayplay soccer, I mean he pelts me with a soccer ball as I try not to die on the living room floor.”
“He’s ridiculously cute, though,” I tell her.
“He’s painfully cute,” she agrees. “Last night I stayed up till one in the morning looking at his baby pictures on my phone. Both of my eyes were twitching, and it still didn’t stop me.” She drops her sunglasses down again and I exhale a little laugh.
“You have problems, my friend.”
“I sure do. Now, enough about me. How are you? How’s everything? What are you doing?”
I look at my incomplete sketches, careful not to show any disappointment in my expression. “Just trying to finish up on some stuff. We’re all in the workroom and the professor is going to give us feedback.”
“Fun!” Daniella exclaims. “Let me see. I want a virtual tour.”
Surveying the room, I clock everyone’s locations. Matt is on his phone where I left him and everyone else is distracted with work. Not seeing the harm in giving my sister an inside look, I hit the flip icon on the touch screen so Daniella can see what I’m seeing.
I point her toward the balcony first. A few seconds later I glide the view over to Marco at the dress form. I then fly over Matt at lightning speed, and I finish the tour with directing the camera angle down at my sketches.
“Whoa, whoa, who was that? Who was the last person?” Daniella asks.
“That was Marco,” I tell her. “He grew out a beard. Isn’t it nice?”
“If by Marco you’re referring to the grown man by the door who clearly isn’t Marco, then yes, his beard is very nice. Now, point me in his direction again. I don’t have all day. About-face.”
“I’m not doing that.” My voice is adamant, but my eyes are weak. I know my sister will pounce.
“Violet,” Daniella replies menacingly. “About. Face.”
