The rules hadn’t changed since fifth grade. We were only allowed to explore the first floor, the hallowed Assembly Room being the main attraction. It was, after all, where the Declaration of Independence had been signed. Designed in the Georgian style, the walls and their intricate moldings were painted gray and white—similar to some paint samples in the Barbour powder room—and light green drapes hung over the large windows. Twin fireplaces flanked George Washington’s seat of honor, with the rest of the green cloth–covered tables facing his desk. Brass candlesticks, books, and quills had been staged on each one, not to mention the wooden “sack back” chair reproductions.
“In the summer of 1776,” George—our guide, not the president—narrated, “fifty-six men gathered here to defy the King of England….”
I felt my mouth twitch, a giggle wanting to escape. “What’s so funny?” Grace whispered, amusement in her eyes. Even if we didn’t know why one of us was laughing, the other person laughed, too.
It took several seconds for me to gather my words. “This was our first stop on our Saturday field trip,” I said. “Jamesdecided he wanted to set the tone right away, remember?” I pointed over to the Assembly Room’s elegant white barrier. George was probably explaining its true purpose, but all I could ascertain now was that it was to keep visitors from getting too “hands-on” with the room.
Well, that hadn’t stopped James.
Everett snapped his fingers. “Oh yeah, I remember that!” he said, one side of his mouth quirking into a smile. “When my dad went to the bathroom, James jumped the barrier to sit in President Washington’s ‘sun chair.’ ”
“And not only did hesitin it,” Grace chimed in, about to snicker, “but he said he leaned back so far that his feet left the floor.”
Tears now tickled the corners of my eyes. “He almost broke it! Isn’t it the only authentic antique in the room?”
“According to George, yeah.” Everett was laughing too now, so hard that two dimples deepened in his cheeks. Grace smirked and reached to poke one.
Then pulled her hand away so fast you’d think static had shot through her finger.
Huh,I thought.It really is like we’re little kids again.
Grace would tease Everett about his dimples all the time back then, so much that I used to think she had a crush on him. But I’d gotten my answer in eighth grade, when she all but gave me a blessing to date him. They were just friends.
The three of us let ourselves laugh, now alone in the Assembly Room. Our tour group had disappeared, following George to the next checkpoint. We didn’t try to catch up tothem, even once we collected ourselves. We stayed and stared at George Washington’s desk, imagining Grace’s prankster brother holding court there.
The memory was only broken when Everett said: “ ‘I’m going to steal the Declaration of Independence.’ ”
A quote—Nicolas Cage’siconicquote fromNational Treasure.The quote that had hatched a hundred memes. Grace howled all over again. “Well, I hate to break it to you, Ben Gates,” she said, “but it looks like you alreadydid.” She grabbed the scroll Everett had tucked into his back pocket, one of his gift shop purchases.
He blushed a brilliant red. “It’s for Abigail.”
“As it should be.” She smiled. Everyone knew that Everett and Abigail watched the movie whenever she didn’t feel well. But instead of picturing her and her big brother on the Adlers’ couch together, I saw my home theater; I stood in the doorway, a plate of Mr.Adler’s favorite cheesecake brownies in hand. He’d never been a dessert person, but ever since starting the trial, Everett’s dad had been craving sweets. A peculiar side effect. “Jesse, I can’t believe you’ve never seen this movie!” Papá had said from his cushy chair, and Everett’s dad laughed. He sounded tired, and his dark brown hair had thinned from treatment. “I know, I know,” he replied. “I guess it just slipped through the cracks.”
They binged theOcean’s Elevenmovies that day.
I blinked. “How about we sign it?” I suggested now, holding up the quill-pens we’d all bought. “Would Abigail like that?”
Everett grinned, and it almost hurt. He looked so muchlike his father. “Yeah, I think she would,” he said. He pulled the scroll out of its plastic casing, dramatically unrolled the poster, and offered it to me first.
Isabel M. Cruz,I wrote in cursive before handing it off to Grace. “Careful!” Ev warned her. “That document is over two centuries old!”
“Then why aren’t we wearing protective gloves?” she asked.
In response, Everett tickled her nose with his quill’s oversized red feather.
How scandalous!the ghosts of our founding fathers probably thought as my eyebrows knitted together. Was Everett…flirting? With Grace?
“Thank you, Isa,” Everett said once he’d rolled up the scroll. “That was a great idea.”
I smiled. “You’re welcome, Everett. I do have them every now and again.”
He rolled his eyes, but good-naturedly. “So where to next?” he asked after our trio took a selfie together. Grace wanted all the pictures she could get for her future dorm room, and I took a few photos myself. “The Liberty Bell?”
“Oh my god, please no,” I said as we headed for the exit. “James dared some random kid to lick the display glass, remember?”
“Vividly,” Grace said, then pulled a face. “And believe me, I’m not eager to relive it.” We pushed through the doors and back out into the sweet-smelling spring breeze. “I have something more fun in mind….”
Chapter 13
