“But you always playyourbass. You’re gonna get all hunchbacked from carrying that thing around.”
“Not this kind. It’s electric.”
“You don’t play electric, dummy.”
“Make a right here,” he says, ignoring me.
I eye him across the seat. He’s practically dug a crater alongside his middle finger.
“For real. Where we going?”
“Bryce Miller’s.”
I can’t hide my surprise. “Really?” Adam and I tried to get them to pal around for years but Bryce was always kind of a shit, pushing kids around the basketball court, snapping girls’ bra straps. He had a wicked playfulness that made him harmless to me, but scary and unapproachable to Jared.
Jared nods. “He plays guitar. Invited me to jam with him.”
“All right.” I smile and compose a text to Adam in my head. “Does Mom know?”
“Yeah. She wasjust thrilledto tell Cindy Miller that theiryoungest ones were finally becoming buddies!” he says, imitating Mom’s over-the-top affect.
A laugh bubbles up in my chest. “This’ll be good for you.”
Jared rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”
I sync my phone and queue up my favorite playlist. All eighties pop. Madonna blares through the stereo and I feel my stomach settle as I follow the route to Adam’s. I know it by heart, could trace the curve along the brick-lined driveway with my eyes closed. Adam isn’t due back from school untilfall break next month but just being near his house, his stuff, makes my brain buzz.
“Thanks,” Jared says when I make a full stop.
“Where’s Bryce?” I ask. “I wanna say hi.”
A wooden swing sways back and forth on their porch, creaking in the breeze. I remember how it sags when you sit on it, and how it sinks even lower with two people’s weight.
“Lemme text him.” Jared’s fingers fly over the screen and within seconds, Bryce swings the front door open and walks toward us over the manicured lawn. A rust-colored bathing suit hangs low on his hips. He looks older than Jared and if I squint hard enough, he could be Adam.
Jared leaps out of the car, slamming the door behind him, and they high-five.
“What’s up, Jill?” asks Bryce, leaning into the passenger side window. “How’ve ya been?” Confident and composed, just like his brother. A senior Player doesn’t scare him at all.
“Can’t complain. How was your first week of high school?”
Bryce smirks. “Love it, obviously.”
“Naturally.”
“You talk to Adam today?”
I shake my head. “Not yet.”
“I’m sure he’ll hit you up,” Bryce says. “He just called Mom. He’s coming home next weekend. Some National Young Playwright workshop thing at the county theater. I think he’s teaching kids how to write stage direction or some shit.”
“Nice.” I try to conceal my excitement and bite down on my lip but Jared rolls his eyes. He’s picked up on my not-so-subtle crush.
Bryce slaps Jared on the back. “Ready to jam?”
Jared beams. “Let’s do it.”
“See ya, Jill!”
