Chapter 1

Chapter 1

I’m not exactly surprised when my brother tells me he has a crush.

It’s terrible timing, of course, but he wouldn’t be Jake if he didn’t have the worst possible timing, with the maximum amount of awkwardness that one could conceivably stuff into a sentence. He catches me just as I’m about to head out of the house, going to the store with Mom. If he’s doing it on purpose, it’s genius, since I can’t question him about it right away.

“Um, by the way, Lizzie, I’m having a friend over later, please don’t be weird, I like him,” he mumbles, everything spilling out in a rush.

My first instinct is to break out laughing, because Jake honestly looks so adorable. He won’t meet my eyes, and he’s blushing hard enough that I can tell—and that’s saying something, because we both have the kind of tan that screams, “I live in a beach town and spend too much time in the sun.” It’s even more noticeable right now as the afternoon light dances through the windows with a Midas touch, turning everything in the kitchen golden.

I concentrate on not laughing. Instead, I ruffle his hair, mussing up his long brown bangs. He ducks away with a huff. For years, he’s been trying to convince me that I shouldn’t treat him like my little brother since he’s older by almost exactly three weeks, but his arguments haven’t stuck. I’m clearly more emotionally mature than he is. Therefore, I have big sister rights.

Case in point: right now.

“Okay,” I say slowly. I don’t want to scare him off. Jake and I are closer than most blood siblings, but he’s still a very private person. He’s done plenty of swooning over his unattainable crushes, yet he’s never before hinted at having a crush that might go somewhere. “Who is it?”

Jake shifts, cracking his knuckles. “Charles Lark.”

Laughter wells up inside me, again, and I bite the inside of my cheek, shoving it down. He can’t be serious. Maybe I misheard.  “I’m sorry. Charles Lark?”

“Yeah.” Jake isn’t laughing. He’s deadly serious, if a little tense as he stands where he skidded to a stop in the hall. He scratches the back of his neck. “He’s been tutoring me.”

“Tutoring you,” I echo. “Okay. Cool.” I pause, searching for a non-condescending way to phrase my questions. Jake’s acting like his guest is someone important, someone he might want a relationship with. Someone a relationship is possible with.

But Charles Lark is impossible.

“Jake.”

“Lizzie?” Mom calls from the laundry room, and I remember that I was supposed to be following her out of the house. I guess she got tired of waiting in the garage.

“Coming!” I shoot finger guns at Jake as I back down the hall. “We’re definitely discussing this later, okay?”

He waves me off. “Right, right.”

“Don’t forget, Maya’s staying home with you!” I yell behind me. He acknowledges me with an unintelligible shout.

Babysitting Maya’s not hard, and she’s almost ten, so I’m not even sure if it’s officially babysitting anymore. I’m mostly reminding him for his own benefit. Our youngest sister is so quiet it’s easy to forget she’s in the house. I always feel terrible, but sometimes it happens, and Jake gets anxious if he can’t immediately place any random sound he hears.

“There you are,” Mom says as I enter the garage. She’s fussing over her seat, trying to shove all the sand out of the car, or at least onto the floor. We’ve lived in Meriton for over a decade now, but she still hasn’t resigned herself to the way that sand gets everywhere and there’s literally nothing you can do to stop it. The garage door is open, and a salty breeze drifts in, breaking up the stale air inside. “I was getting worried you were going to make me shop all by myself this week.”

I muster up a grin, sliding into the passenger seat. “Never.”

Mom gives up on desanding her car, hops in, and starts the engine. I pick a playlist, one that Mom facetiously named “Mommy-daughter bonding time” with an obscene amount of emojis. It’s an eclectic blend of musicals, pop, country, and oldies that Mom doesn’t consider to be old.

I take a deep breath and try to put Jake’s revelation out of my mind.

Sundays are, unequivocally, the best days of the week.

Mom is a nurse at Meriton General Hospital, and with her work schedule, it’s not a given that we’ll be able to see each other for more than five consecutive minutes at a time on weekdays. All four of my siblings hate grocery shopping, so on Sundays I get Mom to myself for almost an entire two hours.

Grocery shopping together has been our tradition for as long as I can remember, since before my biological father skipped out two years after Katie was born. She was born barely eleven months after Lillian, and even though they were monsters as toddlers (a phase Lillian still hasn’t grown out of) Mom always managed to find a babysitter on Sundays.

We’ve got it down to a science. First half of the list we do together, chatting and taking our time. Second half, Mom gives me very specific assignments, and we split. She zips through one section of the store, picking up like five things on the list before meeting me in a predetermined aisle. It’s a strategy that’s held up over time.

Today, the first half of the list goes by in a flash, like it usually does. Our chatter manages to fill up every corner of my brain, until we split up.

Then I start thinking again.

The thing is, Charles Lark is straight. I know he’s had a string of girlfriends since middle school. He’s the son of two surfers, the quarterback of Meriton High’s varsity football team, and the least stereotypically gay guy that I can name. The quintessential “popular kid.”

Our school is pretty small, so everyone knows the junior who’s taken our football team to championships twice already. If they don’t know him because of that, they know him because of his locally famous parents, and his own awesome surfing skills. They say he’s planning on going pro after high school. I haven’t seen him surf, but I don’t doubt that he can, because, come on, it’s Charles Lark.

I’ve never really registered him, beyond Jake’s crush and the occasional newspaper article. We run in different social circles. Jake and I hang with our friends, who are lucky to be in the yearbook twice. Lark belongs to the popular crowd: jocks, cheerleaders, and his best friend, Darcy Williams. They’re people I’ve had in classes, but never really got to know.

Nerves jangle through me like an uncomfortable shot of adrenaline as I steer the cart around a corner and down an aisle. Mom’s somewhere about, racing through the freezer section and grabbing toilet paper before our rendezvous in the bread aisle. I loiter there, tossing in a couple loaves before parking myself at the end to frown at our groceries.

Lark is more than a small-town celebrity to Jake. He’s, well. When Jake came out, Lark was the person Jake identified as an example of his “type.” And honestly, I think he’s been crushing on Lark for a while, in that unattainable crush kind of way, where nothing is ever going to come of it.

But the way that Jake told me Lark is coming over and the fact that Lark is coming over worries me. A friendship with Lark seems like a surefire way for my brother to get his heart broken.

Mom collides with my cart, startling me out of my thoughts. She drops five bags of fruit in and slides the toilet paper underneath. I push Jake and Charlie out of my mind as best I can, capitalizing on the twenty or so minutes I have left as we sail through self-checkout and load the car.

“So,” Mom starts as we leave the parking lot, “what have we not covered?”

I purse my lips. “You told me about your worst patient.”

“And my best patient!” Mom interjects. “And you’ve told me how annoying Lillian and Katie are.”

I groan. “Lillian won’t stop pestering me to go off campus and get her food!” The few fast-food restaurants in town are clustered around the high school. I’m old enough to go off campus at lunch, but I rarely do. My sisters dislike my lack of generosity and sympathy for their poor, underclassmen plight.

Mom waves this away. “Well, since we’ve covered work, school, and siblings, I guess there’s only one thing left.”

I’ve got a sinking feeling I know what’s coming. “What?”

“Girlfriends!” Mom crows, and I groan again, louder this time.

“Mom, you know I’d tell you if I had a girlfriend!”

“A crush?” Mom smirks, her eyes sparkling. I wrinkle my nose.

“No,” I say. “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t follow this up with an offer to set me up with your colleague’s son’s wife’s cousin’s daughter.”

“Lana,” Mom finishes, laughing. “I’m sorry, I can’t help it. Larry brings it up every time I see him.”

“How do your colleagues even know?”

Mom tilts her head to the side. “It comes up naturally in conversation. I’m a parent, and I obviously support you and your brother and sister, so I’m not trying to hide it.”

I sigh. “I guess it could be worse.”

It’s a joke, but it’s also not. It really could have been so, so much worse. I hit the jackpot with parents. Family in general, really. Mom and Dad are amazing, and they gave me absolutely no crap when I came out at twelve, or when Katie came out as trans earlier that year. The same with Jake, three years later.

Jake and Sam have officially been family for nine of the eleven years we’ve lived in Meriton. I hate when people try to get technical about my family. I’ve had some uncomfortable conversations with nosy acquaintances who insist on calling Jake my stepbrother, and Lillian and Katie my “full sisters,” and Maya my half-sister. I don’t see the point of the distinctions. Sam is my dad, Jake is my brother, and the girls are my sisters. That’s all there is to it.

Thankfully, we all look just enough alike, with hazel eyes and hair that’s varying shades of brown, that it isn’t a constant topic of conversation. Most people just assume that Jake and I are another set of Irish twins, like Lillian and Katie. Mom and Dad have probably gotten more comments on that than on having a blended family.

We pull into the garage, and Mom pops the trunk, killing the engine. I go around the car and fill my arms with bags. The garage is super warm, permeated with that familiar, sandy beach smell. It’s humid, the air tacky with salt and dust. I blame Jake’s surfboard.

“Just set them on the kitchen counter,” Mom instructs. “I’ll put everything away.”

“Yep.”

Mom has a very particular organizational method, and she’s the only one who understands it. It makes for some interesting dinners. Dad can empty an entire cupboard trying to find the ingredient he’s looking for, so sometimes he just substitutes with what he can easily see.

The house seems eerily quiet as Mom and I walk in with our groceries, the paper bags crinkling at twice their normal volume, and our steps echoing. Spiders crawl up my spine.

Is Lark here? Is Jake with him now?

I’d assumed that they’d be downstairs when we got home, studying at the kitchen table or in the living room. Usually, the only people we take upstairs to our rooms are our close friends: Nate, our next-door neighbor, his girlfriend Jenny, and Kendall and Tyler.

I leave my last load of groceries on the table, and head for the stairs. Maybe Lark isn’t here. Maybe he’s left already. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Maybe I’m a little paranoid.

“Hey, Jake, Mom and I are back—”

Jake’s door is cracked at the top of the stairs, a sliver of light shining through to the dim hallway. I push the door open with a shoulder, the same way I always do, looking for Jake at his desk, where he always is. Except he isn’t at his desk, agonizing over math. No, he’s jumping off his bed, shirt half on, his face red. And on the other side of the bed is Charles Lark, his eyes wide, in the exact same state of disarray.

“Holy crap!” I gasp, breaking out into the uncontrollable, giddy laughter I managed to suppress earlier.

It’s not every day you walk in on your brother making out with the varsity football quarterback, surfing champion, and town superstar. I guess I’m not paranoid.

“Hi. Hi, I’m Charlie,” Lark says. He reaches out a hand for me to shake, then seems to realize that he’s too far away. He drops it, and runs his other hand through his hair compulsively, messing up the golden curls even more. “We were just—”

“Working,” Jake blurts out. The two of them look at each other, their uncertainty contagious. “Uh, we were working. On homework. The—the biology homework.”

I’m still gaping at them, but the shock is beginning to wear off, and I slowly stop laughing. Charles Lark’s kissing has clearly knocked Jake’s memory of telling me Charlie was tutoring him on math straight out of his head. I can’t believe this is actually happening.

“Biology,” I drawl. “What’s the assignment?” Jake is getting redder and redder, tan bedamned, all his blood redirecting to his face.

Lark clears his throat, shifting. “Sex Ed?” he offers, a sheepish smile on his face.

That’s all it takes for me to start laughing again. I didn’t know Charles Lark had a sense of humor.

“Charlie!” Jake hisses, smoothing a hand down the shirt he’s finally got his other arm into. “It’s just homework, Lizzie. Due tomorrow. Charlie’s been tutoring me, like I told you, and I was stuck, so I invited him over. So we could work together. On the homework that’s—”

“Due tomorrow, yeah, I got it,” I interrupt him, waving in his general direction. “Well. In that case, I should probably leave you guys to it.” I can’t stop waving my arm like a demented train conductor.

This is probably what Jake meant when he mentioned acting weird.

I nod at Lark, who grins at me. He’s blushing, too, and he can’t seem to keep his eyes off Jake for more than a few seconds at a time.

There’s nothing more for me to do here, other than make things a hundred percent more awkward than they already are. I leave quickly. As much as I enjoy seeing my brother squirm, I know the situation is far from ideal. And definitely more complicated than it looks. Ten minutes ago, I would have bet money on Lark being a thousand percent straight. It’s a tad disconcerting to think that he’s in my brother’s room, recovering from my interrupting them.

There’s a sinking feeling of foreboding in my stomach, curdling in my disbelief.

Charles Lark is going to break my brother’s heart.

I crash down the stairs, taking them two at a time. At the bottom, I almost run over Maya. Her head is in a book, per usual. She yelps as I grab one of her shoulders to prevent a full-on collision, maneuvering myself around her.

“Lizzie?” Mom calls from the kitchen. She pokes her head out. “Is everything alright?”

It takes some effort to put my hysterical jitters away and calm down enough to not accidentally alert our mom to Jake’s shenanigans.

“Yeah, we’re all good,” I say. “I just startled Maya.” I glance behind me. Maya has already disappeared up the stairs, scurrying off to the room she shares with Katie and Lillian. Out of all my siblings, I think she’s the most eager for me and Jake to leave for college, or wherever we’re going. She’ll finally have her own room for the first time in her life, somewhere to escape from Lillian’s suffocating presence.

Mom makes a face, beckoning. “Come into the kitchen,” she orders. “I’m going to start getting dinner together. Is Jake upstairs?”

“Um—yeah,” I stammer, following her into the kitchen. “He’s with a friend.”

Mom slows, placing a can of tomato sauce on the table. “Oh, right, he wanted to invite someone over for school.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “They’re working on math homework.” I’m pretty convincing, if I do say so myself.

Her memory jogged, Mom’s expression clears, and she goes back to getting ingredients out at a normal speed. “Why don’t you get Jake to ask his friend to stay for dinner? It’s getting late.”

I check the time. Mom’s right. It’s too dim to see properly outside, which means it must be at least eight o’clock. “I’ll let him know he’s invited,” I say, distracted. It’s altogether too quiet in the house for this time of night. “Mom, where is everyone?”

“Your dad took Lillian and Katie to see a movie at the Grand with a couple of friends,” Mom says. “It was a matinee, so they’ll be back soon.”

“Why did Dad go with them?”

“The movie was rated R,” Mom says. “I looked it up; it was just a couple of f-bombs and some ‘suggestive themes.’ No explicit sex.”

“What a relief,” I deadpan. “I’ll go relay the invitation. Get the friend to commit before Lillian gets home.”

Mom rolls her eyes, and I head out of the kitchen.

“We’re doing personal pizzas!” she calls after me. “Make sure he knows!”

I wave behind me, racing out of the kitchen and bounding up the stairs. I make sure to make plenty of noise to avoid a repeat of earlier. Jake’s door is closed this time. I shake my head.

God. If you’re going to have a secret tryst, at least close the door all the way.

I knock. “Clothes on, please! I’m coming in!”

I hear some vague mumbles, and what I’m pretty sure is Jake quietly cursing at me, then I open the door.

Lark is lounging on the floor, against Jake’s bed. Jake is at his desk, looking at me like a deer in headlights. They’re both trying to pull off a casual vibe and failing miserably.

“Hey, boys.” I grin. “Lark, your shirt’s inside out.”

He colors, checking the back, where the tag is sticking out. “Oops?” he says, returning my grin.

Jake is shaking his head, and I get the feeling he’s about to start banging it on his desk. This is probably not how he imagined his evening going.

If I weren’t so worried, I’d find it hilarious.

“So.” I begin suggestively, flopping down on the floor next to Lark, between him and Jake.

“Lizzie,” Jake says. He sounds like he’s being strangled, and his tone says, don’t be weird.

I shrug. “You knew I’d have questions.”

Jake starts methodically knocking his head against the desk with a quiet thump.

Lark flounders, and it occurs to me that maybe he’s freaking out, too. “I don’t think either of us were expecting…”

“You’re all good,” I interrupt him, because seriously, this is painful to watch. “I’m not going to try to fight you over my brother’s virtue. Yet.” It’s still a serious possibility.

“She thinks she’s my big sister,” Jake mutters, spinning his chair around and joining the conversation. “You get used to it. Eventually.”

Lark shrugs it off. “It’s fine.”

They both blush horribly when they look at each other. I suppress the urge to give a low whistle, because it seems like they didn’t actually talk over what happened before I showed up again. Maybe they just went back to making out as soon as I left.

Boys.

“Do I get to ask?” I say, dissipating the suffocating sexual tension. “I mean.” I gesture in Lark’s general direction. Hopefully they can hear the implicit how on earth did this happen in my tone.

Jake’s got a perpetually gobsmacked look on his face that makes me think he might already be asking himself that very same question. “I’m bad at math,” he contributes helpfully. “Charlie’s not.”

I turn a questioning gaze on Lark. He shrugs at me. “It’s true. I came over to help him with math. My friend, Darcy, is in his class, and I’m already pulling her through, so when I heard Jake was struggling—”

“Wait.” I hold a hand up and sit very straight, turning on Jake. “Darcy Williams is in your math class? And you didn’t tell me?”

I can’t believe Jake. This is relevant information, that my brother shares a class with my mortal enemy.

“You know Darcy?” Lark has the nerve to sound amused, and when I look back at him, there’s definitely a smile playing about his mouth. I give him a scathing look, but it only serves to make his smile grow.

It’s then that I realize while of course I know Lark’s name, he might not know mine. I hold out a hand for him to shake.

“I’m Lizzie Gardner,” I introduce myself.

His eyes widen, and it’s impossible to quell the swell of triumph I feel at that glint of recognition. Darcy has talked about me. “Oh,” is all he says. “Nice to meet you.”

Jake is shaking his head. “I told you that entire rivalry is in your head, Liz.”

“Clearly, it’s not,” I refute, gesturing at Lark. “Proof. He knows who I am. Shocking, right?”

Lark and Jake exchange a glance, and it’s clear that they already have the couples’ telepath thing down to an art.

I huff. “How did you go from practice problems to undressing each other on your bed?”

They both wince.

“I didn’t—I’m not—I don’t know,” Jake says, stumbling across his words. “I really don’t know.”

Lark has an idea, judging from his soft smile as he looks at my brother. “Cute boy who might be into me needs math help,” he says. He wiggles his eyebrows at me, and I immediately like him better. “The implications.”

Jake coughs. “This might not have been the first time.”

I gasp. It’s shocking, it deserves a good gasp.

Lark laughs. He’s got a nice laugh, deeper than I thought it would be, the kind that makes you want to laugh with him. “Darcy might have set us up,” he adds, exchanging a grin with Jake.

I gasp again, louder if possible. “No!”

“She’s not actually a soulless monster, Lizzie,” Jake says.

I remain unconvinced, leveling him with an unimpressed stare. He returns it with a twitch of his lips, and suddenly I feel like a puppy, bouncing around a pair of cats who are at best tolerating me because I’m amusing. It’s infuriating, like somehow introducing Darcy Williams into the conversation lost me the upper hand of I caught you making out. Jake reaches over and ruffles my hair with a smile that would have been a smirk on anyone less sweet-tempered. I feel like the little sister for once, and I don’t like it.

“Well,” I say. The subject needs to be changed as quickly as possible, and clearly, they’re not going to be the ones to do it. “I’m glad you two are… what are you doing, again?”

Jake freezes and doesn’t answer.

“Dating,” Lark says, but he says it like a question, and he can’t look me in the face. My stomach rolls.

This is what I was afraid of.

“Cool,” I say. “We can all be gay together. I was supposed to tell you that you can stay for dinner if you like, Lark. We’re making individual pizzas.”

I stand up, making my way to the door. Distantly, I hear the door to the garage open. A barrel of laughter spills into the house, along with the constant, high-pitched chatter of my sisters. I hear Dad greeting Mom, and the familiar clatter of plates and utensils being extracted from the drawers.

My family is loud, no question.

I’m so distracted by this that I almost miss the byplay between Jake and Lark. It’s so sweet it makes my teeth ache. Jake’s looking down, so Lark ducks his head closer to the ground, trying to get a good look at my brother’s face. Whatever he sees must reassure him, because he looks up at me, and says, “I’d love to stay.”

“Cool,” I repeat, clapping my hands together. “Let’s go, before Lillian and Katie take over the kitchen entirely.”

I walk out without checking to see if they follow. As I clatter down the stairs, I shove aside all thoughts of Darcy Williams. She doesn’t get to take up space in my mind right now, not when Jake apparently has a boyfriend.

Jake and Lark linger behind me, hesitating at the door to the kitchen. I don’t wait for them, shoving the French doors open and walking through. Immediately, I’m assaulted by a wall of chaos.

“Lizzie!” Katie greets me brightly, a grin on her face. She’s snacking on Mike & Ikes she must’ve gotten at the drive-in, an unopened crust in front of her.

“And then Shelby said that Josh O’Connor was ugly, because he used to have braces last year and only just got them off, but I think that….”

Dad expertly maneuvers around Lillian, who’s monologuing to Mom, as he delivers opened crusts and a plate full of toppings to the table. He raises his eyebrows at me. I smile in return.

“Lillian!” Mom finally stops my sister’s ramblings as I take my seat at the table, grabbing an oven tray and a crust. “Lillian, go get Maya, please.”

Lillian stomps out of the room, the French doors swinging behind her. “MAYA!” she screams up the stairs. “DINNER!”

Lark shifts closer to Jake, their shoulders pressing together and their arms touching down the entire length. I wince. There’s an internal battle raging inside me. Half of me wants to be so, so happy for my brother. The other half of me wants to scare Lark away and tell him to only come back if he’s sure he’s serious.

“I could’ve done that!” Mom calls to Lillian. “Go upstairs and get her.”

In normal circumstances, I’d be teasing the hell out of Jake. I’d also be a hell of a lot more excited. I can’t wait until he tells Nate. I need someone to tell me whether my concerns are valid, or if it’s just in my head.

Mom looks back to Jake and Lark, and her eyes soften at the sight of them pressed together at the edge of the kitchen.

“Sit, sit!” She orders them to the table. Katie and I flank them, taking chairs at opposite ends. “Sam is just getting the toppings. Sam?”

“Almost ready!” Dad calls from the opposite end of the kitchen. I’m not sure I should be embarrassed about how loud my family is, but Lark looks like he’s having a good time. He and Jake are off in their own world, murmuring to each other. God, they’re so obvious. It’s way too late for Jake to keep his fling a secret from Mom and Dad, so I hope he wasn’t planning on trying.

Across the table, Katie spills her Mike & Ikes. The pill-shaped candies rocket off the table and slide around the floor.

“Shit!” she says in a small voice. I snicker. Katie is the most adorable curser I know.

“Katie!” Dad reprimands her. “Don’t use that word. Clean this up, please.” He steps back from the table, surveying his handiwork. All the ingredients are arranged perfectly. Dad claps his hands, taking another step back. There’s a crunch, and he lifts his shoe. One of Katie’s candies is smeared in tiny particles across the heel. “Shit,” he mutters.

Katie snorts, grinning up at me. She’s on the floor, scooping her candies into a plastic bag.

“I hope you’re not going to eat those,” I say, raising my eyebrows. Her grin grows, and she slowly lifts one to her mouth.

“Katie, no!”

Mom plucks it from her fingers on her way to the table, dropping it into the plastic bag. “Katie is not going to eat candy off the floor,” she states, sitting down. “Drop that in the trash and wash your hands. Let’s get the pizzas in the oven.”

Katie scampers to do her bidding, skidding into her seat with a smile. “The movie was amazing,” she says. “I didn’t know a movie about old people could be so funny.”

“Really?” I say. It’s barely encouragement, but my sisters generally don’t need much more than that to set off on a tangent. I hurry to prepare my pizza before Hurricane Lillian returns to get started on hers. Jake takes my cue, making sure to set up Lark with whatever he needs. I’m so focused, I don’t notice that Katie hasn’t said anything yet. I look up, frowning, but Lark is already ahead of me.

“Old-old people, or older-than-you people?” he asks, smiling at Katie and somehow including my mom as well.

Jesus. He’s good at this. I don’t know if he’s actively trying to impress our family, but if he is, it’s working.

Katie perks up. Her handling of her pizza and toppings gets a little sloppier as she starts talking, giving a rambling, tangential summary of the movie she saw—Late Night, apparently. It’s not one I’ve seen before.

“I think I saw that when it was in theaters,” Lark says when Katie pauses for breath. He nudges Jake, and Jake grins at him.

He and Jake finish prepping their pizzas while Katie talks, so I slide them onto a tray with mine and stand to deposit it in the preheated oven. I set the timer and listen absently to the conversation at the table.

“It was so good!” Then Katie’s enthusiasm visibly dims, and her brow furrows. “I want to watch it again, except Lillian doesn’t because she thinks it was boring.”

I inwardly sigh. Katie lets Lillian’s blinding personality overshadow her own. Sometimes, it’s difficult to remember that they’re two different people. I hate seeing it happen, but I don’t know how to prevent it, or how to help Katie out from under Lillian’s shadow.

Frowning, I glance over at the table and catch Jake whispering in Lark’s ear. Lark’s congenial smile stutters, then reignites in a laugh. I’m pretty sure he’s holding my brother’s hand under the table. Jake is doing his best not to look love-struck and smug over making Lark laugh, but he’s absolutely failing.

My stomach twists.

Suddenly, the French doors slam open. I jump, but it’s just Lillian storming in.

“OMG, she took forever,” Lillian complains, cutting her eyes at Maya, who slips in behind her. “It’s all, ‘let me finish this chapter, then I’ll come down,’ but I swear she read like five chapters.”

I roll my eyes, tuning out Lillian’s complaints. Everyone knows how the rest of the argument will go—how all these arguments go. Lillian antagonizes someone, they rise to the occasion, and it usually ends in tears.

Tonight feels off. I can’t get rid of that apprehensive twist in my gut whenever I see Lark out of the corner of my eye.

The thing is, no one has ever said anything about Charles Lark, football star, award-winning surfer, being into guys at all. And that’s the type of gossip that would spread quickly, especially in our small high school.

If he’s not out, where does that leave Jake? In some sort of weird twilight zone where maybe they’re dating, but they can’t tell everyone, and they have to keep secrets.

Jake is joking when he says that I think I’m his big sister, and I’m joking, too, but I’m also kind of not. Jake’s different from the rest of my siblings, and not just because he can’t roll his tongue. He’s softer, somehow. Kinder. He looks for the best in people, and that’s why, out of all my siblings, I worry that he’s the most likely to get duped.

The timer buzzes, jolting me out of my head. Jake has gotten up to help retrieve pizzas, and he gives me a worried look. I smile, trying to reassure him. The wrinkles in his expression smooth out, so it probably worked.

“Get your pizza out!” Lillian practically screams in my ear.

I curl my lip at her, but don’t see the point in pushing back. We have a guest. I’m one of the few who can hold their own in an argument with Lillian, but it always gets ugly fast. Lark doesn’t need to see that, so I retrieve the pizzas from the oven without complaint. Lillian hovers at my elbow, her own tray in hand. Katie’s pizza is close to falling off the side. Come tomorrow, Dad will probably be cleaning melted cheese off the inside of the oven.

Jake and I work together, slicing the pizzas and sweeping them off onto plates. He takes his and Lark’s back to the table, where Lark is effortlessly chatting with my mom.

I hover at the island with my own plate. It’s Sunday, and I should want to stay and eat with my family, but a creeping weariness slips sluggishly through my veins. My head pulses in time with the flow of the chatter.

There aren’t enough seats at the table, and the kitchen seems screamingly loud. Suddenly, all I want is to be on the beach, where it’s always quiet. I settle for second-best and make my way into our small backyard. A plastic table with a single chair languishes in the middle of the mostly barren space. I settle down there.

The light breeze from earlier is back, giving me goosebumps. Summer weather hasn’t abandoned us yet, but it’s starting to get cooler in the evenings. Still, out here I’m not stifled by the heat and smell of so many pizzas cooking. As I eat, I push my bare feet through the dirt and grass.

It would be nicer if it were sand.

It doesn’t take long for my thoughts to start spiraling around Jake and the mystery of Charles Lark and Darcy Williams. I cannot believe that Darcy set up my brother with Charles Lark. Two male boys. It doesn’t fit with the picture of her that I have in my head. Darcy Williams and her wicked blue eyes, her shiny, dark hair, the girl who confronted me the day after I came out in middle school.

It wasn’t a fun day. Meriton is a fairly liberal town, and there were more people who gave me awkward high-fives and were as supportive as middle schoolers could be than those who wrinkled their noses. But the negative reactions were the ones that stuck with me: a popular eighth grader who sneered to my face and whispered behind my back, the girl who sat next to me in orchestra who stared at me blankly for a moment when I told her before saying, “That’s not allowed.” Even Kendall, my best friend, instinctively snorted a laugh and said, “Ew!” before immediately, remorsefully apologizing.

But Darcy’s reaction was the one that really stuck to me, because Darcy was the only one who went out of her way to talk to me.

She tracked me down at the end of the day, when I was waiting outside for Jake, and stared me down with her brilliant eyes. I was so confused, because Darcy and I didn’t share any classes. We’d never spoken. I knew her in the abstract way I knew most of the kids in my grade. She was Charles Lark’s best friend—he was already making a name for himself, even then. She played the flute in band and lived by the beach. I didn’t understand why she was talking to me, of all people, until I did.

“Everyone’s talking about you,” she sneered, and I had already suspected that, but knowing didn’t make me feel any better. “They’re saying you like girls.”

My tiny twelve-year-old shoulders hunched further than they already were. The resolve that had sustained me through the school day wavered at the blatant disgust in her tone. I hadn’t meant to come out to the whole school at once, but I had told my class, and they had told their friends, who told their friends, and in a town as small as Meriton—well, it all snowballed from there.

“Yeah.”

“So? Is it true?”

I looked up. Darcy had a weird, constipated look of concentration on her face. She didn’t wait for a response before continuing.

“Like, are you sure? How do you know?”

That was too much for me. I’d already tormented myself over this realization. It had taken weeks and weeks for me to be able to tell Jake, let alone my friends at school. And now this? After a day full of whispers and slanted gazes?

“I just know,” I snapped, and I glared at Darcy, returning the ferocity of her stare in spades. She didn’t get to make me feel bad about myself, didn’t get to make me start questioning again. Who the hell did she think she was? “Thanks for commenting.”

I didn’t give her time to respond and stalked off to find Jake.

A shiver goes down my spine at the memory. From that day onward, Darcy no longer existed on my periphery. She was a villain, my new nemesis. I hated her on principle, the same way I hate all the people whose comments that day still linger in my mind. It’s always helped that she seems to hate me just as much and never went out of her way to talk to me again.

Except now, my worldview feels like it’s toppling over and turning upside down.

Darcy didn’t really set up Jake and Lark, did she? She couldn’t have.

Halfway through my pizza, my phone vibrates, and I jump. I’m so accustomed to the weight that I forgot it was in my pocket. I fish it out, snorting at the ridiculous selfie Jenny took of her and Nate the last time she stole my phone.

I answer. “What?”

Maybe not the politest greeting, but it works for us. Nate and I have a very functional friendship. He was the first friend I made after Mom moved us down to Meriton, and he’s indirectly responsible for her meeting and marrying my dad—that is, Sam. Nate was friends with Jake, who was shy and quiet even in kindergarten. Nate, boisterous and outgoing, was easier for me to befriend, and once he introduced Jake and me to each other, the three of us were unstoppable.

We bonded over Capri Suns, sand dollars, and Percy Jackson. Those childhood bonds last your entire life, according to Nate, so I’m never ever getting rid of him.

“I see you.” Nate sounds patently unimpressed. “Why’re you sitting alone in your backyard?”

“Because it’s too late to go to the beach,” I say, like that’s a logical answer that will satisfy him.

It doesn’t, of course. “Jenny’s here, do you want to hang out?” Jenny yells out a greeting in the background.

“Hi Jenny,” I say. “No, I’m heading back in soon. Did you convince her not to attack Mr. Peterson?”

Nate’s dyslexic, and Peterson, our English teacher this year, is completely unsympathetic, no matter what Nate says or how he kicks ass in class discussions. Every time Nate feels like punching a wall over yet another assignment or put-down in class, Jenny and I add more details to our plot for a hostile takeover of our English class.

“What about Peterson?” Jenny says, sounding like she’s mashing her mouth up to the speaker.

Nate groans. “Thanks, Lizzie.”

“Sorry, Nate,” I snicker. “Jenny, please don’t fight Peterson, Nate would hate himself if he got you suspended.”

“It wouldn’t be his fault,” Jenny says, and I can hear her pouting. “It would be mine.”

Nate groans, protesting in advance against whatever she’s plotting. I hang up before their squabble really gets going. I hear enough about their ongoing feud with Peterson in person.

When I head inside, Lark is making noises about heading home from where he’s entangled with Jake. Not overtly entangled; it’s mostly an arm over the back of Jake’s chair, and Jake looking way too smug about it.

He deserves to look smug. His unattainable crush has inconceivably become attainable, and he should enjoy that, no matter my doubts.

Jake, like the good gentleman he is, walks him to the door. Lark gives me a high five on the way, which I don’t comment on.

I do follow them, because I’m nosy like that, but I stop in the kitchen doorway to give them some semblance of privacy. I figure if I’m here waiting as soon as Lark leaves, it’ll be harder for Jake to evade me.

They exchange a few words, too quiet for me to really hear. One hand on the door, Lark leans toward Jake, and I look away so fast I feel a crick in my neck. Jake had better watch out. If he continues in this vein, Dad might try to give him the sex talk again.

When I look back, it’s just Jake in the doorway. I pounce before he can escape up to his room, tailing him up the stairs.

“So,” I start casually. “Charles Lark.”

A small smile plays about Jake’s lips. He’s happy, I realize, and my heart sinks. What if this all crashes and burns?

I hover at the top of the stairs as Jake goes into his room. He finally rolls his eyes. “Come on, Lizzie,” he says. “You have questions. I have answers. Let’s do this.”

He folds himself into his comfy swivel chair. I take his invitation, sitting on the floor next to his window and leaning against the low bookcase he has there. Jake watches me calmly but expectantly as I get comfortable.

My fingers tap against the ground. I resist the urge to pull at his carpet as I try to think of how to put my worries into words—Jake hates that.

He doesn’t seem to want to start the conversation. My brother isn’t much of an instigator. He doesn’t have the killer instinct I do. Okay, that sounds bad, I’m not a murderer, I just have slightly better people skills.

Finally, I settle on what seems like a good starting point.

“You’ve been crushing on the guy for ages.” My words seem to echo in Jake’s room, especially when he’s so quiet.

“I know,” he says, gripping one arm of his chair.

“Do you want me to just forget he was here?” I ask. “I mean, I thought Lark was straight, and then I accidentally walked in on you guys canoodling.”

“Oh my god, Lizzie!” Jake laughs. His eyes sparkle as he shakes his head at me. “Forget about it, please.”

“Believe me, I’m doing my best.” I grin. “I’m just confused, I guess. ‘Charles Lark is gay’ seems like hot gossip we would have heard by now.”

Jake clasps his fingers together and worries his lip. “Charlie should probably be the one telling you this,” he admits, “but he said it was okay—if you asked—anyway, yeah, he’s gay. He’s just not entirely out yet.”

“Okay,” I say warily. It’s not promising, but it’s better than what I had been expecting. “What does that mean?”

“It means he’s not.” Jake’s brow furrows, but he seems determined to put a positive spin on the situation. “He’s not denying it, but he’s not going to, like, post a meaningful coming-out post on social media. Dar—um, his close friends know, but his parents don’t, and he doesn’t want to announce it.”

“Why not?”

“Come on, Lizzie.” Jake’s lips are pinched, and I can practically see the cogs turning in his head as he tries to think of the right words. “It’s not easy. You remember. Everyone looks at you differently, even if they like to pretend they don’t. We didn’t have that many people looking at us in the first place, but Charlie, Charlie has the whole town looking at him.”

“Oh,” I say, because he needs a response and I’m still trying to properly formulate one with actual words. I can feel the emotion behind what he’s saying in my very core. Our middle school was small enough that it felt like everyone knew and was staring at me within hours of my coming out to my class. Jake hadn’t had to deal with that; our high school is twice the size, and his coming out was diluted and lost in the daily stream of gossip. But Charlie wouldn’t just be dealing with school gossip. “That makes sense.”

“It does.” He offers me a smile. “I know you’re worried. But I’m okay with where this is going. I’m okay with giving him time.”

“Really?”

I feel the need to confirm this. As one of maybe two girls out at school, I’ve had my fair share of bad experiences. My middle school “girlfriend” was in the closet, and she wanted to shove me back in, too. It wasn’t fun. I will never be somebody’s dirty little secret again, and I don’t want Jake to have to be either.

“Really,” he says. “It’s not like I expected anything to come of my crush to begin with. And this.”

I can’t help but smile at the look on his face. “Worth it?”

Jake is the kind of person who doesn’t fully smile often, just a tilt to his mouth and crinkles at the corners of his eyes, but he’s absolutely beaming right now.

“It’s worth it,” he confirms. “It’s so, so worth it. We’re going to be great, Lizzie. Charlie and I, we’re going to be great.”