We are quiet a grand total of about a minute before Marcus speaks again. “Things I did not have on today’s bingo card: holding hands withtheZadie Cartwright and trying to teleport.”
“Shhh.”
I swear I hear it again, the smile in his breaths, as I try very, very hard to force us into a dream. But nothing happens. My hope was that, given the synchronicity of our brain waves or whatever, all we had to do was really concentrate and focus on transporting ourselves to the correct time and space.
But alas, we remain in Tommy Riddick’s garage.
***
Fifteen minutes and a Marcus bathroom break (and a Marcus snack break) later, we are inside Marcus’s house, the one attached to the garage. It is smaller than I expect, smaller than it looks from the outside, but cozy. With many pictures of Marcus and his sister in various stages of growth and toothlessness, the walls are a warm light blue color. Mom would not say their house looked like a museum. In fact, she’d probably say they had achieved peak attainability. I plop down on the couch of the well-lit living room as Marcus eats a bowl of cereal and checks soccer scores on his phone. He offered me my own bowl and I turned him down.
A few minutes later, while he’s upstairs cleaning up, I catch up on socials. Check again if the Instagram bully/Ring Bandit has done or said anything new. They haven’t.
“Ready to try again?” I say when Marcus comes back.
I offer my hands out to him, and he takes them, both of us facing each other on the couch.
At exactly that moment, a girlish voice that definitely does not belong to Marcus gasps from across the room.
“What the frig!”
My eyes snap open and land on a girl dressed in pink from head to toe. She has her blond hair pulled up in a perky ponytail and is wearing high-tops. She looks a prime total of nine.
Marcus groans. “Kangaroo. I thought you were at a playdate this afternoon.”
“Three things. Stella…” she says, each word slow and deliberate, “hasn’t picked me up yet.” She counts off on her fingers. “Ianswer only to Joey. And I don’t have playdates. I’m ten. We’re going toafternoon tea.”
Ten it is, then.
As the girl’s staring continues, I realize I’m still holding hands with Marcus and quickly take my hands back. I give her a little wave, but she just continues to look wide-eyed in my direction.
“Marcus,” she says. “What is shedoinghere?”
Joey’s expression is a cross between scandalized and awed, which seems a little strange.
I’m not sure she recognizes me, so I say, “I’m Zadie. Marcus and I go to school together.”
“And kiss?” Joey asks, completely shameless.
“Sorry?” I almost choke on my saliva.
“Do you go to school together and kiss? Because you kind of look like you’d be kissing if I wasn’t here.”
I think I’m overheating, but Marcus gets up, goes to put his sister in a headlock. “No, we don’t kiss, you rascal.”
She grins as he tugs on her ponytail, then remembers herself and bats his hand away.
“I…”have a boyfriend, I start to say but catch myself. I don’t know what I have. “I, um, like your shoes.”
In a normal type of family, I would probably know Joey better since she is also Jason’s cousin and our town is that small. But it’s almost like the Brothers Riddick only remembered they were related when Jason’s accident happened.
Joey beams. “Thrifted,” she says. “It’s the only way to do it.”
“The only way to dowhat?” Marcus looks incredulous. “Joe, I think I hear Stella’s mom’s car. Maybe you should go check?”
But she is already moving toward me, sitting on the arm of thecouch. “You know, I kind of already know who you are. You’re, like, famous at my school.”
I grimace. “I am?”
