“I see your eating habits haven’t changed. All right, let’s see this amazing front flip.”
Max starts jumping higher, and I move to the edge of the trampoline so he doesn’t accidentally land on me. Tension coils through me as I watch him, hoping he’s as bad at front flips as he used to be, although I swear I don’t care whether I learn more about him or not. I just want to win the bet.
Max has some real height to his jumps now. I hold my breath as he flips forward…and lands spectacularly on his back. I slap my hand over my mouth before I can yell in triumph.
He groans and rolls over on his side. “I should never have taken that bet.”
“And yet I knew you would.” I do a jumpy victory dance. “You’re not dead, right?”
He squeezes his eyes shut and slowly sits up. “Go ahead and gloat.”
“No gloating.” I consider for a moment and then do a twirl. “Actually, lots of gloating.”
He eyes me skeptically. “What do you want to know?”
What happened after you moved away?
Why are you so different now?
When did you stop liking me?
I want to know everything.
I swallow, trying to decide how much I can ask without making him stalk away in annoyance.
“Um…I guess I want to know what’s going on withyou.”
“That’s a really broad question for a single failed flip,” he says in aggravation. “I’m just…I don’t know. Adjusting, like I said before. To the new apartment and new family arrangement and trying to help out Mom and be supportive when she isn’t at her best. It’s a lot.”
“New family arrangement?”
He stares at me like he can’t decide if I’m ignorant or rude. “My parents’separation?”
I lean back in surprise. Mom and Dad had insinuated Max was struggling, but I figured he was just angry about having to move.
“Oh…I didn’t know,” I whisper. My animosity falls away at his defeated expression. “I’m sorry, Max. Really.”
“Your mom didn’t tell you all the details? You two are so close.” The openness in his expression vanishes as soon as he mentions my mom.
Pain pricks the back of my mind. The last time he was around us, Mom and Iweresuper close. We hung out all the time, talked about everything. I even raided her closet so I could wear whatever fit me. That’s probably why I still prefer vintage clothes from the nineties. But a lot has changed since then. All her enthusiasm about my future feels smothering now. I don’t want to admit that, though.
“She never said a word.”
“I—” He stares at me like he can’t believe what I’m saying. “I figured…well…huh.”
“Your mom isn’t doing well?”
“She’s the one who wanted the separation, but it’s hard. Money is tight and the apartment is small and…you know, she’s sad.”
“Ah,” I whisper. “And I guess that explains why you didn’t have anyone at the band performance.”
He shrugs and messes with his shoelaces. There’s so much more I want to ask him, but I’m scared to ruin this very tentative peace between us. We’re no closer to becoming friends, but maybe we’ve shifted a few millimeters away from being enemies. I’ll take it.
“I don’t have any nachos to offer, but I can put onThe Fellowship of the Ringuntil our parents are finished?”
He’s silent for a second and then shrugs again. “Yeah, okay. Did you know that scene where Ian McKellen hits his head in Bilbo’s hobbit-hole wasn’t scripted?”
I sigh deeply and walk to the house. “Yeah, I think you told me that a time or two.”
