Damn her, she probably had.
This didn’t make any sense. What was happening? Was something going on in the city today?
I groaned when I finally figured it out, and all it had taken was an inadvertent glance over at the car next to me. Its driver was in full red, white, and blue regalia for the Phillies game later. I remembered Ryan and Caleb talking about it back at school. Of course.
The driver noticed me looking at him, and in response, he rolled down his window, emphatically fist-pumped, and cheered so loudly that I heard people in other cars shout back. Then they performed an extremely off-key rendition of “Take Me Out to the Ball Game.”
I hoped the Mets won.
Spotify paused when my phone sounded with a text: Izzy. I smiled at the screen, my iPhone mounted on the dashboard. Mind you, I don’t condone phone use while driving, but I was at a standstill. Such a standstill that I could have cut the Subaru’s engine if I’d wanted to. So yeah, I reached to type in my passcode to see what Isa had sent.
It was a photo of a cheesesteak. The most luscious-looking cheesesteak I’d ever seen, its thick and crusty roll filled withchopped beef, melted cheese, more melted cheese, and evenmoremelted cheese drizzled over the fried onions on top. My mouth watered.
And my stomach rumbled. All I’d eaten today was a bowl of Lucky Charms for breakfast, and lunch had consisted of pretty much shoving two spoonfuls of leftover chili and a hunk of cornbread into my mouth before rushing back to school. Isa didn’t know that, but this picture still felt like a tease.
I missed you at lunch,she’d written.Hope yours was better than mine!
I felt a zing in my veins. A third of me wanted to rip my hair out, wishing she would quit the lighthearted teasing to give me an answer, but the other two-thirds had never loved her more. I might not have received a formal invitation to Philadelphia, but Isa wanted me there.
I didn’t text her back; I hadn’t replied to any of her messages, no matter how much I wished I could. School was still in session, and as far as she, Grace, and Everett knew, I was still trapped there. When I found them, I wanted it to be a surprise. Isa would be so thrilled that she’d kiss me, Everett would be quietly impressed, and hopefully my sister would bestunned.Not going to lie, I was imagining her completely speechless with a nice jaw-drop. It was the least she could do after tricking the whole town without consulting me.
But then again,I thought,so far she’s proved that no consultation was necessary.
The Phillies fans and I were still in a gridlock, so I tapped over to Find My Friends and located the three of them inPassyunk.South Philly,I realized as I zoomed in to see their dots right between the dueling Pat’s and Geno’s. Mr.Adler, originally from right outside the city, swore by Pat’s King of Steaks. “But it’s for tourists now,” he’d always lament when we were younger, during our special Saturday adventures. The Franklin Institute, the Mummers Museum, the zoo (everybody goes at some point). “Our job is to try all the hidden gems…”
My stomach growled again. I locked my phone, barely moved forward in the traffic jam, and then took one hand off the wheel to scavenge around for some snacks. I ended up finding Smartfood popcorn in the center console, a family-sized box of Whoppers under the passenger seat, and, what do you know, a box of SweeTarts in the glove compartment.
Guess who loved SweeTarts?
Guess who probably also had Whoppers for Grace in hiscar?
I honestly didn’t know how this trio operated, how they could take this whirlwind trip together. Maybe the “whirlwind-ness” was why it had worked, but I didn’t know. Driving Everett to school with Grace at the wheel? It made Everett’s and my conversation this morning seem riveting. He and my sister exchanged pleasantries, but then ignored each other for the rest of the ride. It was pitiful—painful, even.
I don’t know who the hell they thought they were fooling, because it certainly wasn’t me. “And—he—said—there—was—someone—else,” I remembered Isa blubbering the day after Everett had broken up with her. She and Grace had been locked in my sister’s room, but the walls weren’t concrete. Icould hear perfectly fine two doors down the hall. “Who—is—this—someone—else?”
You’re looking at her, Isa,I’d thought. Because wasn’t it obvious? I’m not saying I was great with girls freshman year, but Everett Adler wasterriblewith them. Who was thesomeone else? There was only one realistic option.
Grace. Gracie. Whatever she bottled up around Isa, the cork popped off come summer.
She and Everett were inseparable during our Stone Harbor trip with the Adlers, so inseparable that I always joined the nearest Spikeball game on the beach and found a new group of friends for the next fourteen days. “Inseparable” was way better than the repressed rides to school, but still, they made third-wheeling brutal.
Someone behind me honked their horn, and I sighed with relief when I saw I could actually press down on the gas pedal…for all of ten seconds.
Then it was back to the idyllic view of the car in front of me. Its sunroof had slid open, and a small group of guys in their twenties had squeezed through and, Bud Lights in hand, were trying to get a Phillies chant going. It didn’t take verylong.
Please, let the Mets win.
I turned up Spotify and went back to Isa’s messages. She had sent me something earlier, before the juicy cheesesteak and that oil painting from the art museum. John Singer Sargent’sIn the Luxembourg Gardens.
Yes, okay—here it was, a video. A video of Grace and Everett racing up the famous Rocky Steps. The climb wasn’tparticularly interesting to me; it was the moment before their ascent. Grace and Everett were lunging, in position for takeoff, but the camera had caught his hand sneaking out to zap her side at the same time hers shot out to pinch his cheek.
Isa hadn’t commented, which made me wonder if she was fishing for an acknowledgment from me. Something more insightful than aHAHAdouble-tap on the video.
I see it,I was tempted to write back.Do you?
And really, how long would Grace and Everett be able to hold out on their feelings? Even if they were clueless the other person felt the same way? My sister would never betray Isa, and Everett would never risk losing their secret friendship. But honestly, I did think they were headed for disaster if nothing happened between them. A bottle rocket was going to explode and leave nothing behind but a clusterfuck of chaos. The fallout was going to be rough, especially if they kept flirting like that in front of Isa.
Now, you could say that she and I were keeping the same secret, and everyone’s entitled to their own opinion, but things were different between us. Grace and Everett had been hiding their…close friendship for three years, while Isa and I had only fallen for each other this past winter. Yes, the fact that I was Grace’s brother complicated matters, but I wanted to be with Isa more than anything and was ready to tell everyone.
