“It makes sense.”

“Thank you.”

He put the picture down and picked up the movie. “How does this represent your brother?”

“I guess he liked spy movies. He probably would’ve loved Heath Hall.” I patted the mask on the dashboard.

“The Hunt for Red October. Is it any good?”

“Never seen it.”

The last thing he brought out was the squirt gun, which he immediately shot at me. A spray of water hit my hair. “It’s loaded. Your mom actually loaded it.”

“I see that.” I wiped the side of my face where it had dripped.

He shot me again.

I reached over and hit him.

He laughed. “I thought you liked water.”

“Ha-ha.”

“Does this have to do with the spy movies?”

“No.”

“He liked water? Like you?”

“Nope.”

He dropped the gun back in the box. “You going to keep me in suspense?”

“Remember when you met my dad?”

“Of course.”

“When you left, the first thing my dad said to me was, ‘I’ve never met someone who reminded me more of your brother.’”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “And then you hated me even more.”

“No. You already bugged me. I guess that was when I realized I would’ve hated my brother had I known him. And that made me mad at you, yes.”

“So see, your brother wasn’t perfect. He was an irresponsible goofball with no idea about his future.” He nodded toward the squirt gun, the representation of that playful nature.

“He knew he wasn’t going to have a future.”

Again Jackson squeezed his eyes shut and put the lid back on the box. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t be. Here’s the thing. My whole life, I’ve never felt close to my brother. Never felt like I knew him at all. I knew facts about him but couldn’t picture him. Then you came along in all your annoyingness and my dad put a personality to him. I hated that at first. And if I’m being honest, I kind of reveled in it too because I realized that I wanted to hate him. But now. Now that I know you better, I know that my brother and I would’ve been great friends.” For the first time, maybe ever, I felt my eyes prick with tears over the thought of missing out on that friendship with him. “So I know this is weird, but thank you for that.”

He slowly set the box back on the seat between us. “Great. I just got put in the ‘he’s like a brother to me’ category.”

I laughed. “You’re good for me.”

“How so?”

“Because you can make me laugh.” Especially when I had just been on the verge of tears.

“Oh, did you think that was a joke?”

I laughed again. “See?”

Nirvana came on the radio and Jackson turned up the volume.

Thirty-One

Considering it was only ten thirty, the neighborhood was quiet. The porch light was the only thing that lit the house. All the other windows were dark.

“Where are we?” he asked.

“Amelia’s house.”

“Are we picking up Amelia?”

“Nope. She’s spending the night at my house. And considering she hasn’t texted me to find out where I am, she must still be out with DJ.”

“So we’re going to hang out with Amelia’s parents?”

“Amelia lives four miles from me. A little too far to walk. Without a car, I can’t see my best friend whenever I want to. I have to depend on her driving everywhere. In junior high sometimes I’d ride my bike here but even that took a while.”

“How long have you known Amelia?”

“Since the second grade. She has the most awesome tree house. We’d spend hours back there.”

“Are you going to show it to me?”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

“You just throw out the words ‘awesome tree house’ and we are going to walk away?”

“Fine. Come on.” As we walked toward her side gate, I said, “It’s been a long time since I’ve been in it. It could’ve been my younger brain that found it awesome and now it will be lame.”

“Backpedaling already?”

We got to the gate and I gestured for him to reach over to undo the latch as I shined my phone for him to see. Soon we were in her backyard. It really had been a while since I’d been back there. But my memory wasn’t wrong. The tree house was awesome. It was built around a giant oak tree in the center of her yard. The back patio light was just bright enough for us to make it out.

“Wow,” he breathed. “You almost didn’t let me see this. There’s a way to get up there, right?”

“There used to be a ladder attached on the back.” I was already walking as I said this, and when I rounded the tree, I saw the ladder still there, waiting to be climbed. I went first, ascending the thirty steps. No wonder Amelia’s mom was always nervous when we were out here: this thing was high. Jackson followed close behind. It was more of a deck than a house. It had no roof, but a railing surrounded the wooden platform. It was dusty and some boards were rotted through, but when Jackson reached the top, he immediately lay on his back, putting his hands behind his head.

“If this were in my backyard, I’d be up here every day.”

And I believed he would. His joy was contagious. I took a spot next to him and stared into the dark twisted branches above us. Last time I’d tried to relax and enjoy a moment of beauty like this, my body wouldn’t let me. This time, I felt like I wanted to stay here forever.

“Do you hear that?” he asked.

I didn’t hear anything at first, but when I listened closely, I could barely make out music coming from another backyard. “Someone is having a party.”

“The song is in Spanish.”

I listened closer and sure enough, the words were in a different language. “Do you know any Spanish?” I asked.

“I’ve taken two years in school. So no.”

I smiled. “I was dumb and took French. We live in California. Who doesn’t take Spanish when you live in California?” I wasn’t sure if I was listening harder or someone turned up the music, but it got a little louder.

“When did you realize you were good at swimming? That it was something you could excel in?”

“Summer before sixth grade I beat a seventh grader in the one-hundred-meter butterfly. It’s a hard stroke for a kid so young and I beat her. That day I made it my goal to be good enough to swim once I got to college.”

“In the sixth grade? You knew what you wanted to do in college in the sixth grade?”

“Yes.”

“And I still don’t have a clue.”

“Not everyone knows what they want to do in college.”

“Everyone I know has at least a small idea.” He rolled onto his side and propped his head on his hand. “At least something they’re good at. At the rate I’m going, I will graduate with a degree in pranking. I do a mean TP job. Can that go on a college application?”

“So you take generals until you figure out what you like.”