I’ve dropped my hairbrush for the third time when Lila says, “You okay?”

“Not really,” I mumble.

She’s pretty good at getting the truth out of people; with pointed questions, soon she knows exactly what’s on my mind. “Is that all?” she asks, once I’m finished talking. “If you want, I’ll take Ryan off your hands.”

I stare at her. “What does that even mean?”

“I’ll keep him from fixating and making things awkward, promise.”

Now I have visions of Lila draping herself across Ryan’s lap, but I’d pay to see his face if she does, so I nod. “Go for it.”

It’s a last-minute scramble to get both the lasagnas baked, and I’m pouring the salad into a big wooden bowl when the doorbell rings. Aunt Gabby trots down the hall, calling, “I’ll get it.”

Kimmy and Shanna arrive together, followed shortly by Theo, Tara, and Kenny. Mel’s dad drops her off next, and she’s brought homemade rolls, which Shanna says makes everyone else look bad. Everyone is kind of milling around—God, how did I get into this—when Shane knocks. Maybe it sounds dumb, but I recognize his tap: bum-bum, bum-bum-bum; it’s more musical and rhythmic than anyone else’s.

I manage to be cool as I swing the door open. But my first sight of him since he left yesterday morning steals both my breath and my good intentions. He’s wearing black skinny jeans with black sneakers, a white shirt, and a black faux-leather jacket. His tousled hair falls into his eyes as he smiles at me, then bends to kiss me. His lips brush mine, soft and warm, carrying the faint tinge of mint. Shane acts like it’s easy, but I’m tied in knots, hardly able to move, because I don’t know if my knees will hold me or I’ll end up against the wall, grinning like a reject. Ryan comes up the walk then and, judging by his expression, he saw the kiss.

“Hey,” I say to both of them.

The guys step past me into the house. Since our kitchen can’t accommodate this many people, Aunt Gabby has set up a couple of card tables, but they’re covered with red-and-white-checkered cloths. The white vases with red silk carnations make it look like we’re running an Italian bistro. As I run around, I perform breathless introductions. For a few minutes, it’s a constant rush of getting plates out, serving this and that, but pretty soon, we’re all seated, devouring the veggie lasagna and salad, along with the rolls Mel donated to the cause. True to her word, Lila manages to get Ryan next to her, and from his puzzled expression, he has no idea what’s going on. But he seems okay with the attention.

Lunch is loud, which gives me no chance to talk to Shane. Mostly, I enjoy Aunt Gabby’s pleasure in being a hostess. After everyone’s done eating, I carry the plates into the kitchen and close the galley door, so nobody can see the mess. I have no idea what to do with these people now that we’ve fed them, but Lila is good at this kind of thing. She finds a terrible SF movie in our collection, which encourages everyone to shout commentary at the screen. Soon Ryan is replacing all the dialogue with his own improv, delivered in a Russian accent. He’s supposed to sound like Borat, but given how bad he is, I’m probably the only one who knows this.

Around six, parents pull up out front. Eventually, it’s just Ryan, Lila, Shane, and me. Ry puts his hand on my arm and says in a subdued voice, “This was fun.”

“Yeah. You can have the party at your place next time.”

He gives me a hopeful look. “Would you come?”

“If it’s a bunch of us, sure.”

Just then, his mom leans on the horn and he hurries out with a general good-bye and a call of “Thanks!” for my aunt.

“No problem,” Aunt Gabby yells back.

At last, Lila decides she should head out, too, and she hugs me. Her eyes are yelling, Text me as soon as he leaves. “This was really fun. See you tomorrow.”

“So … that was nuts,” Shane says as the door closes.

“Yeah. But on the plus side, my aunt didn’t have a chance to interrogate you.”

“Is she likely to do that now?” he asks, looking faintly alarmed.

I shake my head. “You want to go for a walk? I could use some fresh air.”

“Sounds good.”

After heading down the hall, I tap on Aunt Gabby’s door. “Shane and I are going out. Don’t worry about cleanup. I’ll take care of it when I get back.”

“Where are you headed?”

“Probably to the Coffee Shop.” It’s not like there’s much to do here on a Sunday night.

“Be back by nine,” she says.

“Not a problem. I still have homework … and Shane probably does, too.”

He nods at this. “Plus it’s a long walk home.”

If I could think of a way for Aunt Gabby to drive him that wouldn’t end in a bunch of awkward questions, I’d ask her. “Come on. The weather won’t be warm enough for us to do this much longer.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Once we’re walking down the drive, I ask, “How was work?” With so many people around, lunch didn’t give us much chance to talk, and I’m wondering how he did at the P&K.

“It sucked about as much as I expected. I opened boxes. Priced and put cans on shelves. Twice, I mopped up stuff that other people broke.”

“But you can deal?”

Shane nods. “I’m looking forward to my first paycheck.”

There are a lot of questions I want to ask him, like if he misses his dad and whether he likes living alone, but it seems too soon to poke around in his head that way. I’m full of blazing curiosity about how he dealt with something so big by himself. My control slips, and I think of my mother. I start to shake. Somehow, I lock it down before it turns into anything worse. I imagine melting down in front of Shane and my cheeks fire up.

He seems to think the tremors mean I’m cold, though it’s in the sixties today, unseasonably warm for this late in the fall. Not that I mind. Life gets downright uncomfortable in the winter. Because he’s sweet, Shane takes off his jacket and drapes it around my shoulders. I’ve seen this move a hundred times in romantic movies and, until this moment, I always rolled my eyes. But now I’ve got his warmth wrapped around me, his smell enveloping me, and this is pretty close to the best thing ever.

“Better?” he asks.

“Yeah, but you’ll be cold now.”

“It’s worth it if I am.”

This is me, melting like butter on the sidewalk. Somehow I keep my knees from turning to total jelly. I’m not sure what we talk about the rest of the way, only that Shane is murmuring and I’m nodding at whatever he’s saying. It’s wrong to zone out, but I can’t help it. His coat feels and smells so good. I wonder how he’d respond if I don’t give it back.

Knowing Shane, he’d be nice about it, even though he doesn’t have anything to spare. We have that in common. I can’t relate to people who get whatever they want, just by asking. Aunt Gabby would do more if she could, but our budget doesn’t allow for it. She pays the mortgage, utilities, and buys our food; she says it helps that we don’t eat meat. Anything extra, like my clothes, comes out of my paycheck. I’m trying to save for college, now that I’ve bought a laptop, but it’s tough sometimes.

Shane’s scuffing his feet on the leaves littering the sidewalk; sometimes they crunch and sometimes they quietly dissolve. “It’s hard to believe things can be this way. Like nothing happened.”

“I don’t know how you coped.”

“Mike helped. He was a friend, someone she met in group.” At my blank look, he explains, “She was in a support group for cancer survivors. Mike beat the odds. My mom didn’t.”

“He went into remission and it didn’t come back?”

“I think it’s been seven years. And at the end, I was just so mad. Mike has no close family. No people. No reason to stick around, you know? But my mom, she had me. So why her and not Mike?”

“Did you say that to him?” I ask softly.

“Shit, I screamed it at him, afterward. He tried so hard to help me, and I pissed all over it.” He pauses, gazing down at me, looking torn. “My mom had papers drawn up, appointing him as my legal guardian. She was trying to look out for me, even at the end. If I hadn’t been such an asshole, Mike would’ve been there for me, just like he was for her.”