A View From Forever (Thompson Sisters Book 3) by Charles Sheehan-Miles Page B

“That place was … something.” It was that. Something. The museum, housed in an Ottoman style former governor’s mansion, was in fact pretty interesting. But right now, no one could remember any of the exhibits.
    “Baby,” John pleads.
    I swear Elle’s face turns red and her eyes turn up in the corners. “You should tell all of them what you did.”
    Mike says, in a conversational tone, “I don’t know that’s really necessary—”
    “All right!” John says. He turns toward the rest of us, and says in a whining, too loud tone, “I tried to grab her boob! All right? Is that so bad?”
    The entire room goes silent. Including our chaperones, led by Mrs. Simpson, who sits in the corner, her eyes now fixed on John.
    “Smooth,” Elle says. “Real smooth.”
    I shake my head. Alex looks at me, and appears to be biting her lip in an effort to keep from laughing. I lean toward her and say, “What do you say we finish eating and blow this joint? Go take a walk.”
    She nods. She’s still biting her lip, but her expression is different. A little excited.
It already is (Alex)
    When Dylan and I walk out of the hostel to the promenade, it’s dark. The sky is clear, and I can see more stars than are ever visible in San Francisco. Dylan walks along beside me, holding my hand, staring up at the sky.
    “Look at that,” he says. “That’s heaven, right there in front of us.” He points at the sky. “There’s the Big Dipper. And the Little Dipper. And Orion.”
    I shake my head. “I don’t know anything about stars.”
    He smiles, then pulls me close to him, putting an arm around my waist. He stands close behind me and points so I can follow the line of his arm.
    “See… the Big Dipper’s right there. You can see the handle, and the cup. Right?”
    I do sort of see it. Seven stars, looking all the world like a sauce pan with a bent handle. “ Why don’t they call it the Big Sauce Pan?”
    He says, “Don’t ask snarky questions. Now, look here… if you follow those two stars at the end of the Big Dipper…”
    “Where?” I ask. The cool air is blowing at me, but I don’t feel it. All I feel is the warmth of his arm around my waist.
    “Follow it right along the line of those two stars. Right… over … here… do you see the Little Dipper? And right there on the end is the North Star.”
    “Really?” It looks faint, just a pattern of stars, the one of the end—the North Star—not even closest to the brightest of the bunch. “I always assumed the North Star would be brighter, or something.”
    “Nah,” he says. “Nothing special about it like that. It’s just that it’s lined up with the north pole, so if you can find the Big Dipper… and from that the Little Dipper and the North Star… you can always find your way, because you always know which way is north.”
    I shiver a little. “Did you take an astronomy class or something?”
    “My Dad taught me. Back when I was little. Before he got too mean. I was a Cub Scout for a little while.”
    “Really?” I ask.
    He nods. “Yeah. But … then I couldn’t stay in. I don’t know what happened. Dad got in a fight with somebody about something on the first camping trip we went on. I’d guess he was drinking, and someone said something to him. We didn’t go back after that.”
    I find myself picturing Dylan as a little boy. Blue uniform, with his father on a camping trip. Then not being able to stay in the scouts, and not knowing why.
    “You must have been sad,” I say.
    In a guarded tone, he says, “I don’t know. I tried not to have too many expectations.”
    We sit down on the stone wall along the edge of the promenade. Far below, we can see the road along the edge of the Dead Sea, a tiny pair of headlights, all alone, moving from south to north.
    “What about now?” I ask. “Do you have expectations now?”
    He shrugs. “You start expecting too much, you set yourself up for disappointment.”
    I find myself intertwining my fingers