I can’t believe I asked this guy if he was wearing a dress. Who does that? People who want to get beaten up. People who never want to have a friend.
My sister, Sarah, dared me, he’d said.
The first thing that pops into my mind is how lucky he is to have a sister, especially one who’s fun enough to dare him to do stupid stuff. I always wanted a sister or a brother…but there’s only messed-up me.
The second thing is how embarrassed I feel because I thought he was a girl, with pretty blue eyes and long blond hair. I had hoped…
My cheeks get warmer from thinking about it.
He’s so cool and confident. And smart. I’ll bet he’s one of the popular kids at school. All the guys probably wear their hair long, like he does.
How can I tell him the truth about me? The truth about where my dad is now and why we moved here. The truth about Phineas. The truth about why I have to take two different medicines every day to keep my bipolar disorder under control. How can I tell him any of it without scaring him away?
He seems so at ease, the way he leans back on that tree. So comfortable with exactly who he is.
So, while a million thoughts collide inside my brain, I say nothing. I lean back, the weight of my secrets heavy on my chest. The prickly St. Augustine grass poking the backs of my arms, like small fire ant bites.
I ache because I want to go home—not to Bubbie’s house in Beckford Palms Estates, but my real home back in New Jersey. I wish I could go back to the way things used to be with Mom and Dad and me. And even Phineas.
