I wasn’t sure if they’d changed enough. Regardless of his weird behavior, he was here with Iris and I was here with Elliot. So tonight definitely wasn’t a night for confessions.
The garage was big and housed four cars. One had a cover over it, only shiny black wheels showing. A man, I assumed Lacey’s dad, stood looking in some boxes in the corner.
“Are the fireworks ready?”
He straightened up and turned around. “If we only shoot off a couple of the illegal ones, we should be fine, right?”
“Abby won’t turn us in,” Lacey said.
“I’d actually hand you both over pretty quickly with just the threat of torture.”
“She’s kidding,” Lacey said, when he seemed worried by my statement. “Come on, we’ll help you carry boxes.” Between the three of us, it only took one trip to deliver the fireworks to the side of the pool. Then Lacey and I joined the others on the deck.
The fireworks weren’t professional city-quality ones or anything, but they were cool. And as the illegal sky rockets lit up the sky with their loud bangs of color, I noticed Cooper looking at me. He averted his gaze. Maybe things could change.
TWENTY-ONE
When I walked in the house several hours later, Mom and Grandpa were sitting in the living room pretending to watch television.
“You’re still awake?” I said, stopping in the entryway. “Isn’t it past your bedtimes?”
Mom turned off the TV. “We wanted to see how your date went.”
I sat down on the couch next to her. “It was fun. He sculpts.”
“Sculpts?” Mom asked. “Is that a workout term?”
“No. He literally takes clay and molds it into cool things. Or at least I think they’re cool. I’ve never seen them before.”
Her face lit up. “He’s an artist.”
“But don’t get your hopes up, because I’m not sure if things will go any further.” The fact that I ended the night hopeful that Cooper was jealous was not the right way to start a new relationship.
“Sometimes it takes a while to know if you like someone.”
“I know.”
“Well, I’m proud of you for trying. Maybe now that you saw how fun it can be, you can go out again. Or ask another boy out,” Mom said.
That sounded like the worst idea in the world. “Yep. Sounds like a plan.” When I realized they were waiting for something more, I said, “I’ll just pick one of the boys lining up at the door waiting to court me.”
“See, I knew she was being sarcastic,” my mom said.
“Do you have anything to add to this interrogation, Grandpa?”
“I’ll interview the line of boys to see who’s after you for only your wealth and beauty.”
I stood and kissed my mom on the cheek, then my grandpa. “I’m going to bed. I love you both. Good night.”
The next day I woke up in the best possible way. With a Cooper text. It said:
My sister’s goldfish died. We’re having a ceremony. Get over here now.
I mean, I guess that wasn’t exactly the best way. If the life of the goldfish could’ve been spared, it would’ve been much better. But it had happened, and he had texted me.
Roger. On my way.
I brushed my teeth, replaced my bed shorts for jean shorts, and headed for the door. “Going to Cooper’s. I’ll be back later.”
“Okay, have fun,” Mom said.
A thought occurred to me and I backtracked, grabbed my newest painting—the one of the fish—and left.
“Did you even brush your hair?” Cooper asked when he answered the door. “And you slept in that tank top, didn’t you? For the love of Pete, this is a memorial service.”
“Ha-ha.”
He smiled and pulled me inside by the arm. He shut the door, then paused for a moment. The entryway was dim and I looked up, confused. His eyes met mine, holding them for three breath-stealing seconds. Then his smile brightened. “Let’s go,” he said.
His sister was already in the bathroom, holding the fishbowl gravely. “I think I forgot to feed him,” she whispered when she saw me.
“Sometimes fish just die,” I said, putting my arm around her shoulder.
“Especially when they don’t have food,” Cooper said, and I elbowed him in the ribs. He grunted but then added, “It’s okay, Amelia. I’ll get you a new one.”
“I don’t want a new one.”
“Well, let’s at least give this one a proper end.” Cooper gestured to the toilet. “I think it’s time.”
“We must have a memorial first,” Amelia said. “Think of nice things to say.”
“Okay.” Cooper tapped his lips with his finger. “He was a quiet fish.”
“It’s a girl,” Amelia said. “Lindsay.”
“Your fish’s name was Lindsay?”
“What’s wrong with Lindsay?” I asked.
“That’s a person name. You can’t name animals people names.”
“Says who?”
“I don’t know. It’s just a rule.”
“I think the most common pet name is actually Max. Which makes it not a rule.”
“Yes,” Amelia agreed. “What Abby said. She likes the name Lindsay.”
“I do.”
“Abby likes everyone’s name,” Cooper said.
I barked out a laugh, then quickly covered my mouth. “So untrue.”
“It seemed like the right thing to say.”
“I thought we were saying things about my fish,” Amelia said.
“Right. Your fish.” Cooper thought for a moment. “She was quiet and kept to herself.”
I sucked my lips in to keep from laughing again. I knew Amelia was upset, and I wanted to take this seriously for her. Cooper’s smirk in my direction wasn’t helping.
I added, “She was very bright. The prettiest shade of orange I’ve ever seen.”
Cooper nodded. “And Abby is an artist, so she’s seen a lot of orange.”
Amelia smiled. “She was a pretty color.” She looked into the bowl and her expression darkened. “Now she’s kind of gray.”
“What about you, Mil?” Cooper asked. “What nice things do you have to say about her?”
“When I left for school she would go to the top of the bowl like she was saying good-bye to me. I think she was smart.”
“For sure,” I said.
We stood there for several more moments, waiting for Amelia to say more, but she didn’t.
“Okay, it’s time.” Cooper walked to the toilet and placed his finger on the handle.
Amelia dumped her fish into the toilet bowl slowly and I tried not to cringe when it landed with a plop, splattering some water onto the lid.
“Bye, Lindsay,” Amelia whispered.
Cooper flushed and we all watched until she was gone. Amelia gave me a long hug and I patted her back.
“Oh,” I said. “I have something for you. Meet me in your room.”
Cooper trailed after me as I made my way to the trunk of my car. “What do you have?”
“You’ll see.”