Page 14
“I did.”
“So we’re having a picnic.”
“We are.”
“Where? The moment we leave your room, the kids will be on us.”
He puts his hands on my shoulders and turns me to the window. “On the roof.”
A nervous thrill zips through me. “Our parents are going to kill us.”
“Only if they find out.” He gently pushes me across the room. “Let’s go.” Warm air sweeps over me as he opens the window wide. It smells like cut grass and barbecue on the terrace. It’s that kind of August night that feels alive, buzzing with crickets, conversations, and laughter, the heat leftover from the day just starting to fade.
He snags the paper bag and the thermos from the bed and hands them to me. Then, with the blanket thrown over his shoulder, he climbs out. His sneakers scrape against the shingles, the hem of his T-shirt brushing the window frame. Once the blanket is spread out, I pass our supplies to him. After he sets it all down, he returns to the window and holds out his hand for me.
The roof isn’t that steep, and it’s not the first time we’ve been out here, but my heart still beats quickly as I swing my leg over the sill and step out. The shingles are warm under my palms, holding on to the heat from the sun.
He steadies me, his fingers brushing my wrist, though he lets go quickly. My chest tightens, making it hard to breathe.
Only when he turns away do I collect myself. We sit on the blanket, our snacks between us, the evening sky stretched out in every direction. With the gold melting into pink, pink flowing into purple, it’s like the whole world has been dipped into watercolor.
The view brings with it a sense of calm, allowing me to relax.
Michael pulls out the food he smuggled, and we dig in, talking about the younger kids who tried to rope us into games all night and how his dad came to our rescue, sending them all to play soccer.
The mood is light, like it always is when we’re together.
“How was school this week?” he asks as he pours hot cocoa into the plastic mug he brought for me. “I can’t believe summer is already over.”
“The same as yours, I’m sure.” That’s a lie, but I don’t want to get into it.
“Really?” He arches an eyebrow. “My first week was full of shenanigans with the boys, but every time I saw you, you were alone.”
My stomach sinks. I should know better than to try to hide things from him.
“I’m not a popular kid.” I take the mug and hide behind its rim.
He scoffs. “Nonsense. Everyone likes you.”
“Everyone likes you, Michael,” I say, my voice dangerously close to cracking. “Your teammates and all the kids at school.” The girls especially. Rather than say that, I take a sip of my drink. “I’m friendly with everyone, but I don’t really have time to make friends. You and Ash are the only company I need.”
“Sienna wants to be your friend. She was asking all about you in English class on Wednesday.”
I lower my mug, the cocoa tasting bitter. “Sienna Hartman?”
“Yeah. You used to take lessons together, remember?”
Palms sweaty, I set my mug on the roof, afraid I’ll spill the cocoa. If there’s anyone I don’t vibe with at school, it’s her. Sienna Hartman has been a thorn in my side since the moment Elena suggested she train me privately when I turned ten. It only got worse when Sienna’s parents asked for private tutoring for her too, and Elena recommended another coach.
Sure, the two of us are friendly. We smile at each other and make small talk when we see each other at the rink or in school, but those smiles are the fakest I’ve ever pulled off.
She was the one who pushed me out of our friend group and told the other girls not to hang out with me when I started training privately, so why does she want to be my friend now?
“Are you okay?”
I lick my lips. “Um, so she just randomly approached you and started talking about me?”
“Not randomly. We sit near each other in a couple of classes, and we talk from time to time.” He flashes me an easy smile. “She knows we’re best friends. That’s probably why she was asking about you.”
