being totally hungover, with ashen skin and matted hair, she looks even more glam than ever.
“And I thought my non-kissing moment was epic.”
“Don’t sweat it, Pip. It’ll happen for you too, eventually.”
“So . . . is Asher gonna get to be your boyfriend now?”
Dace rolls her eyes at me and goes around the breakfast bar to the main counter. “Sex does not equal lifelong commitment. It was no big deal.” She pours herself more coffee from the carafe.
“Really?”
“Well, I don’t want to spoil it for you,” she says, moving to fill up my cup but stopping when she realizes I haven’t touched it. “Anyway, it’s indescribable. You’ll need to find out for yourself.” She puts the carafe back on the warmer.
Fears officially realized: it does change things. This is why I didn’t want one of us to have sex before the other. She’s acting differently already. Like I can’t handle it. Maybe I can’t.
MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 30 6 DAYS UNTIL VANTAGE POINT
Dylan: Food Alert! Cherry Blasters playing free outdoor concert tomorrow night at Hanlan’s Field. They’re kinda scruffy hipster. Want to go and test the theory — do ugly guys with food name make good music?
TUESDAY, OCTOBER 1 5 DAYS UNTIL VANTAGE POINT
Mom is not thrilled with the idea of me going to a concert on a school night. And she is even less thrilled with the idea of me going to a concert with a guy she’s never heard of. “Mom, don’t worry about it, he’s a nice guy, he got accepted to Harvard!” is my comeback to that one.
“It’s October, Pippa,” she says, and already I can see this comeback has backfired. “If he was accepted at Harvard, why isn’t he at Harvard?”
“Mom, just trust me, OK?”
She makes a couple more protests—she doesn’t like the sound of this, please be careful, she doesn’t want me making a habit of going out on school nights, don’t I have homework to do, blah blah blah. And then: permission granted. I don’t even care that I have to be home by 11 . The concert starts at eight and there’s only one opener and Cherry Blasters only have two albums so, yeah, 11 . Probably it’ll be over a bit after 10 , actually, but I want a bumper in there so that I have some time before I get that blast of “Who Let the Dogs Out?” With a few more Dylan-ward texts the plan’s established: we’re meeting at 6 , after my shift at St. Christopher’s.
Highlights of the day before the night of: lunch is a photo club meeting that sees us going around sharing our Threes photos. I almost think Ben’s not going to show up, but he eventually does, about fifteen minutes into the meeting. He sits at the end of the table, not making eye contact with any of us. When it’s his turn, he flicks through an iPad photo album, and it’s weird. I recognize a couple of the photos from our afternoon in the park—three trees, three logs, three flagpoles I somehow missed. But once again his photos are not quite right. The angles are all off. They lack any sense of composition. They’re nothing like the pictures he showed us last week. Maybe he’s just having an off week?
I go last, after Gemma. Then there’s a moment where you can feel the room’s tension. “About next week’s theme,” I say, and everybody flicks to everyone else’s gaze. “Any ideas?”
Nada. Zilch. Zip. Which is what I was kind of hoping. “So,” I say, “what if we just skip the theme this week?”
“Yeah,” Jeffrey agrees. “I’m pretty busy putting my entry together for Vantage Point.”
As are we all, Jeffrey. As. Are. We. All.
After school is fun with sick people. I’m back on flower delivery. I guess because I did such a good job last week? Every time I take an elevator I expect Dylan to get on. But no, it’s all uneventful until I pick up a skateboard-shaped cookie, decorated with every type of candy imaginable. The address tag lists a room on the fourth floor, back in the Rehabilitation Ward.
“Howie?” I say as I knock
“And I thought my non-kissing moment was epic.”
“Don’t sweat it, Pip. It’ll happen for you too, eventually.”
“So . . . is Asher gonna get to be your boyfriend now?”
Dace rolls her eyes at me and goes around the breakfast bar to the main counter. “Sex does not equal lifelong commitment. It was no big deal.” She pours herself more coffee from the carafe.
“Really?”
“Well, I don’t want to spoil it for you,” she says, moving to fill up my cup but stopping when she realizes I haven’t touched it. “Anyway, it’s indescribable. You’ll need to find out for yourself.” She puts the carafe back on the warmer.
Fears officially realized: it does change things. This is why I didn’t want one of us to have sex before the other. She’s acting differently already. Like I can’t handle it. Maybe I can’t.
MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 30 6 DAYS UNTIL VANTAGE POINT
Dylan: Food Alert! Cherry Blasters playing free outdoor concert tomorrow night at Hanlan’s Field. They’re kinda scruffy hipster. Want to go and test the theory — do ugly guys with food name make good music?
TUESDAY, OCTOBER 1 5 DAYS UNTIL VANTAGE POINT
Mom is not thrilled with the idea of me going to a concert on a school night. And she is even less thrilled with the idea of me going to a concert with a guy she’s never heard of. “Mom, don’t worry about it, he’s a nice guy, he got accepted to Harvard!” is my comeback to that one.
“It’s October, Pippa,” she says, and already I can see this comeback has backfired. “If he was accepted at Harvard, why isn’t he at Harvard?”
“Mom, just trust me, OK?”
She makes a couple more protests—she doesn’t like the sound of this, please be careful, she doesn’t want me making a habit of going out on school nights, don’t I have homework to do, blah blah blah. And then: permission granted. I don’t even care that I have to be home by 11 . The concert starts at eight and there’s only one opener and Cherry Blasters only have two albums so, yeah, 11 . Probably it’ll be over a bit after 10 , actually, but I want a bumper in there so that I have some time before I get that blast of “Who Let the Dogs Out?” With a few more Dylan-ward texts the plan’s established: we’re meeting at 6 , after my shift at St. Christopher’s.
Highlights of the day before the night of: lunch is a photo club meeting that sees us going around sharing our Threes photos. I almost think Ben’s not going to show up, but he eventually does, about fifteen minutes into the meeting. He sits at the end of the table, not making eye contact with any of us. When it’s his turn, he flicks through an iPad photo album, and it’s weird. I recognize a couple of the photos from our afternoon in the park—three trees, three logs, three flagpoles I somehow missed. But once again his photos are not quite right. The angles are all off. They lack any sense of composition. They’re nothing like the pictures he showed us last week. Maybe he’s just having an off week?
I go last, after Gemma. Then there’s a moment where you can feel the room’s tension. “About next week’s theme,” I say, and everybody flicks to everyone else’s gaze. “Any ideas?”
Nada. Zilch. Zip. Which is what I was kind of hoping. “So,” I say, “what if we just skip the theme this week?”
“Yeah,” Jeffrey agrees. “I’m pretty busy putting my entry together for Vantage Point.”
As are we all, Jeffrey. As. Are. We. All.
After school is fun with sick people. I’m back on flower delivery. I guess because I did such a good job last week? Every time I take an elevator I expect Dylan to get on. But no, it’s all uneventful until I pick up a skateboard-shaped cookie, decorated with every type of candy imaginable. The address tag lists a room on the fourth floor, back in the Rehabilitation Ward.
“Howie?” I say as I knock
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