We reached the top and pushed open the roof door. A fresh, gentle breeze greeted me, threading through my hair and sending a shiver across my skin.
I closed my eyes and soaked in the nighttime coolness.
The building was only three stories tall, but it still felt like we were far away from everything. Up on the empty roof, with the stars and the midnight sky stretched out above me, all the noise and worries faded away.
Neon lights from the motel’s signs and from the taller buildings across the way splashed across the rooftop like watercolors, mingling together and sweeping over us.
Car engines purred and radios played faintly in the distance,and I stepped out farther, staring out at the lights of the place I’d lived all my life.
It’s funny. When I was little, I used to think the town felt so big, like it was the whole world. Then I hit about fourteen and thought the town was the smallest place ever, that nearly anywhere else on the map was bigger.
Now, maybe it felt a little like both—nowhere near as big as I remembered or as a small as I thought. Instead, it’s something stuck in between.
Sort of like me.
“Hey, I see the new cineplex,” Jake exclaimed in surprise. He stared for a minute before sitting down on the roof, his legs stretching out in front of him.
The lights painted the spot he chose pale blue, like a patch of the sky, and I sat down beside him, studying the way the hue played over our skin for a minute before looking back out at the view.
“There used to be an ice cream shop over there instead,” he said, a slight frown on his face. “My old guitar teacher, Randy, took me out for a cone after a really hard lesson. It’s weird to think it’s not there anymore.”
“It didn’t stay open for very long after you left. It was empty most of the time I went in, and they had to close. The cinema bought the lot and tore the shop down.” Worry tugged at me again. “So many things are different now.” Why did things have to change so much? Should I have nostalgia this young? “The café’s one of the only old places around now.”
Everything in town changed so fast—I felt disoriented, like when I turned eighteen. I didn’t remember feeling so off-balance last year.
What if things never got better? What if my leaving made things worse? What if I went away and then had nothing to come back to?
“Hey, The Tiny Tiger’s going to be fine,” Jake said softly, as the sign lights flickered, sending soft emerald across us now. “That’s why we’re talking to Phillip, right?”
“Right,” I said, taking a deep breath and tilting my head to look up. It was a clear night without a single cloud marring the view, and I searched for stars, trying to find the sparks in the sky that weren’t moving airplanes.
Jake mimicked my position, scanning the darkness above, when he stopped and pointed. “Oh, there’s Jupiter.”
“What?” I questioned, bemused. “That’s not—”
Oh. Now I remembered.
Jake glanced at me, just as confused as I’d been a beat before. “You pointed it out to me one night we snuck out, remember? You told me it was Jupiter.”
“Right.” I nodded. “About that . . .”
“Yes?”
“I lied.”
Jake’s jaw dropped. “You what?”
“Hey, I was thirteen,” I said defensively. “I knew nothing about astronomy. They don’t teach that in middle school—I made it all up.”
Jake gaped at me, eyes wide and round. At first, I thought he was horrified by my confession, but then to my shock, he started snickering, his laughter coming out in short, incredulous-sounding bursts.
“Do—” He gasped for breath. “Do you know how many times I’ve been out on a hotel room balcony after a concert,thinking,Huh, wonder if that’s Jupiter?all because of our conversation?”
“I’m sorry!” I raised my hands in a genuine apology. “I didn’t think you’d remember anything I said.”
“I remember everything you said.”
Surprised by his admission, I couldn’t form a reply. Jake fell silent too—as if maybe he himself was surprised by what he confessed.
