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Out of my peripheral vision, I saw Marcus’s arm go up. When Mr. Benson nodded in his direction, Marcus said, “Loann and I don’t mind working on the set. During drama block, I mean. ”

Mr. Benson stared at Marcus for a few seconds, which gave me a chance to process this statement. Okay, he obviously didn’t want to audition either. But besides that, I wouldn’t mind not having to face Shayleen every day in class. Another thought hit me: Was Marcus trying to find a way to be alone with me? I swallowed a lump in my throat. Sure, I’d swooned over Josh for years, but with Marcus, I don’t know, it seemed realistic for there to be a mutual attraction. Possible.

Mr. Benson cleared his throat. “Uh-huh. Well, I don’t know about the two of you—”

My face warmed as I wondered if Mr. Benson could read my mind.

“Oh, come on, Mr. B. ” Everyone stared at Marcus as he said this. “I can’t do it alone. You’d normally have a full crew, and we’ll get the job done, I promise. ”

Mr. Benson looked back and forth between us. I nodded in agreement for good measure. A guy across the room made a catcall in our direction, but Marcus and I ignored him, staring down the teacher.

Finally Mr. Benson sighed. “All right. See me after class. ”

For the next forty minutes, Marcus and I snuck looks at each other, and by the way his fingers thrummed on the side of his chair, I knew he was excited about this. Which made my excitement bubble up too.

When Mr. Benson showed us backstage, my face fell. It was cluttered with what looked like decade-old debris. I didn’t know a thing about set construction, even if we did have the proper supplies, which clearly we did not. But my stomach still did a flip at the thought of hanging out alone in the dimly lit area with Marcus. That part still seemed exciting.

“Looks great, ” Marcus said.

I had no idea what he was thinking, but I nodded anyway.

Mr. Benson looked us both over. “Now I can. . . trust you two alone together, right? ”

My face instantly heated about four hundred degrees, but Marcus laughed, louder than I’d ever heard him. He gave a little push to my shoulder. “Of course, Mr. Benson, ” he said. “Loann’s like my sister. ”

I swallowed. Really, Marcus and I hardly knew each other, but was it such a ridiculous notion that we could be more than friends? I tried to keep an even smile for Mr. Benson’s benefit, but I could feel my lip trembling.

“All right, then. You kids can come here for drama block, and keep me informed each week on your progress. You’ll find old props and costumes in the cupboards in the wings, as well as up on the platform. ” He pointed to an overhead storage area stacked with boxes about halfway up to the lighting catwalk. “And I’ll print you both a copy of the script. You’ll be graded accordingly. ”

After Mr. Benson left, I turned to Marcus, waiting for him to fill me in on his plan. Because he must have some kind of plan, right? I felt a little irked about the “sister” comment, and I crossed my arms. “So. Where do we start? ” I demanded.

He surveyed the junk. “Huh. Not much here to work with, ” he said. “You ever used one of those? ” He motioned to some big tool in the corner that I didn’t even recognize.

I shook my head, thinking it wasn’t a great sign that he called the contraption “one of those” and was looking for my expertise here.

He met my eyes and, for just a second, I felt like he didn’t want to look away. Like he was trying to convey something serious, but I was horrible at reading those looks. I blinked and that seemed to bring him back to the task.

“Well, I guess we’ll think of something, ” he said, and led the way to the school doors.

* * *

I stressed out all through my afternoon classes about my drama grade. I always counted on that B to pull up my average, but now Marcus and I had to build an entire set, which seemed to carry a lot more responsibility and room for error. Just after the last bell of the day, I stood at my locker, trying to look occupied, while students swarmed past me toward the exits. If my nervousness about our stagecraft assignment wasn’t enough, now I also had to think about going for coffee with Marcus. We hadn’t made any detailed plans. Were we supposed to meet here?

“Hi! ” Claire suddenly said from behind me.

I clutched at my chest. “You scared the crap out of me. ”

She giggled. “I’m off to watch Josh’s football practice. ” She looked down at her nails. “Jaz is busy with Laz. Hey, do you want to come with me? ” She said it like she’d just thought it up on the spot, but I could tell by her quick words this was the reason she’d come to find me. “Their practice starts in fifteen minutes. ”

Sure, I was second choice, but she wanted to watch a football practice with me? Josh’s football practice? I nibbled my lip. What if he’d seen the turquoise paper?

As if she could read my mind, Claire said, “Josh told me he thought you were so cute the way you got all embarrassed over the birthday fuss. ”

Cute? Had he really said that about me? If he had seen the quiz, he obviously wasn’t disturbed by it.

“Come on, Loey. We have to hurry. ”

“Shh. Don’t call me that here. ” “Loey” was a nickname Claire had given me when I was a baby and she was just learning to talk. I didn’t mind it at home, but at school it made me feel childish.

“Oh, right. Hey, Josh wanted to know if you liked the camera. ”

My palms moistened. They’d had an actual conversation about me? I hadn’t seen him in the halls since my birthday. The truth was, it would be much easier to face Josh now, with Claire, than it would be if I saw him with his friends while I was all alone.

She looked at me seriously, with her eyebrows raised, and I could tell she was anxious to go. But Marcus. . . I’d never actually been invited out for coffee before and even though I was nervous, I guess part of me had really been looking forward to it. I glanced down the hall. “I kind of have plans with someone, ” I said finally.

She threw me a doubting glance and stuttered a little when she said, “I-I thought we could, you know, hang out. ”

I didn’t quite know what to do with the sudden sisterly interest. Or her nervousness. Claire didn’t get nervous around anybody, least of all me. My heart sped up at the thought of watching Josh from the sidelines. Or of him coming over to talk to us. Maybe I could chat him up about all I was learning about photography. Maybe he didn’t mind that I’d had an all-consuming crush on him in sixth grade.

Not to mention now.

Marcus appeared from out of nowhere and sidled up to his locker, interrupting my thoughts. I wondered if he could do coffee tomorrow instead.

“Hey, ” he said quietly, like he was trying to get away with talking in class.

I knew I should probably introduce him to Claire, but part of me didn’t want to. What if I did, and Marcus liked Claire more than me?

“Whoever it is will understand, I’m sure, ” Claire said. “Come on, we have to go. ”

Marcus kept his eyes down and started rearranging his books in his locker. His shoulders slumped and he already looked rejected. How would I introduce these two, anyway? Loner Marcus and my gabbing, popular sister? It didn’t compute.

“Don’t you have ballet? ” I blurted.

“No, it’s Tuesday. ” She rolled her eyes like I should have known that. And yeah, if my brain hadn’t been on autopilot, I would have. I’m that girl that knows her whole family’s schedule because I don’t have enough going on in my own life. “Come on, you know you want to. ” She grabbed my books and slid them into my locker.

I did want to. But I also wanted to hang out with Marcus. I just couldn’t explain that to Claire. Her eyes bore into me. She hadn’t even glanced in Marcus’s direction, which was quite a feat, considering his proximity.

I stared straight into the cavern of my locker and said, “I don’t think I can go. ” But even as the words came out of my mouth, I couldn’t figure out who I was saying them to.

CHAPTER SIX

Marcus closed his locker, then turned and walked away without another word.

Claire tapped her foot. “Oh, come on, Loey. We have to hurry. I want to say hi to Josh before it starts. ”

Marcus was almost at the exit. Why was she doing this? Why now?

She took a step in the other direction and pulled at my hand. “Come on. Let’s go. ”

I couldn’t do it. Suddenly I didn’t want to go to the game.

“Marcus! ” I yelled, just before the door clacked shut behind him. He paused on the other side of the threshold. “Sorry, ” I said to Claire. “Can we do it another day? ” I gave her hand a squeeze and plunked on my lock. Avoiding her eyes, I ran for the door and didn’t look back.

When I caught up to Marcus, he kept his face straight ahead. “Let’s go, ” he said, and started walking.

I followed him through the parking lot without a word. Not a Glad you decided to come or Thanks for choosing me. Nothing.

Which made me wonder. . . did I make the wrong choice?

My sister was my sister. We’d always looked out for each other, and the more I thought about it, maybe she really needed me today. Maybe all her other friends were busy too and she really didn’t want to go to the game alone.

By the speed of Marcus’s march, he clearly had no idea I was still wavering. I felt like I should apologize for almost jilting him, but really, if I needed to apologize to anyone, shouldn’t it be Claire? It was pretty nice that she wanted to include me when she knows I’m not exactly popular.

But the more I battled it over in my mind, the clearer it became. Claire didn’t need me. She’d probably already forgotten she’d ever invited me.

I was lost in my thoughts as Marcus and I plodded over the backfield and cut through someone’s yard to reach Main Street. Even though I’d grown up in Alder Grove, I hadn’t realized how close downtown really was. I’d always thought I needed rides to get anywhere besides school.

Marcus had a long stride and I could barely keep up. His loose black T-shirt and jeans would likely still fit him twenty pounds from now. We made an odd pair, me being a foot shorter and not nearly as skinny. My face warmed at the thought of us as a pair, especially now, off alone together. Practically a date, even if he hadn’t called it one.

He rounded a corner off of Main Street and headed for an unmarked door. I’d never noticed or been in the building, so a rush of nervousness hit me. Where is he taking me?

Marcus pushed the thick wooden door open, and the colors inside hit me like a palpable sunrise, calming my anxiety. I stepped into what appeared to be another world.

The strong coffee aroma overtook me as the door closed behind us. The bright yellows and oranges and reds on the walls were unlike colors I’d seen in any kind of business establishment. Artwork, large and small, covered every wall, crammed next to one another like cars on a busy street during rush hour.

There were tables here and there, brown and distressed, not at all matching the atmosphere of the walls. Two old men played checkers at a corner table, but we were otherwise alone. Marcus led me to the counter and one of the old men stopped his checkers game to meet us on the other side.

“You got money? ” Marcus asked me. I blinked a couple of times and then fumbled in my pocket for my last few dollars. We both shifted to get our money and our arms touched. It gave me goose bumps. Marcus cleared his throat, ordered us two large dark-roast coffees with cream and sugar, and put our money in a pile to pay for them. The old man puttered behind the counter, working on our order.

While we waited in silence, I wondered who Marcus had brought here before. It didn’t seem like he had many friends, and I couldn’t really picture him on a date. Did he actually like me, and he was too shy to say it, or was this just a friendship thing? It was hard to tell with him.

Finally the old man put two tall mugs on the counter, and without another word, toddled back to his game. Marcus took one mug, left mine on the counter, and headed to a table near the front window. I waited for a second, to see if he’d turn back for me. Finally, I followed, trying not to spill the hot drink on myself.

Okay, definitely not a date.

We sat and looked at our coffees. Said nothing. Looked out the window at a small walkway and the side of another brick building. Shadows moved across the brick wall as people walked along the main street at the end of the alley. Real exciting stuff. I wondered what Claire was doing now. Was she still at football practice? Was she clapping and shouting to Josh from the sidelines? I waited until Marcus started to drink and followed suit.

I cringed at the burn of the liquid on my tongue and put it down with a scowl.

Marcus snickered. “Sip, ” he said. “Coffee is for sipping. ”

I was sixteen, not four. And I knew how to drink a hot drink, thank you very much. But I guess I was distracted and nervous. We sat and stared out the window some more.

“I’m not gay, you know, ” Marcus said, breaking the silence.

My eyes popped open. He must have seen me in the hall this morning when the jocks were picking on him. Still, I was so surprised that he brought it up that I got tongue-tied. How could he be so casual about it? “I—I know, ” I said finally.

More silence. I took another drink to fill the space, this time just a sip.

“I like to come here. ” He glanced around. “You see that? ” He pointed to a large painting across the room. I nodded. “That’s Michelangelo’s painting of Daniel the prophet. It’s not real, but it’s a good reproduction. At least Armando says so. ”

I stared across at the painting, displayed in an old wooden frame. “Who’s Armando? ”

Marcus motioned toward the checkers game, to the guy who had made our coffee. “He knows all the art. Which one do you like? ”

I studied the walls, recognizing several pieces, but my eyes skimmed over those. I wanted to find something different. Something unusual. At last I settled on a frame behind Marcus.

“The one with the sailboat is cool. ”

Marcus turned and studied it for a minute. Nodded. “Looks scary, ” he said, turning back.

It did. That’s why I liked it. The tiny wooden boat was weathered, with its sail torn almost in two. It didn’t look like it could survive the swelling wave headed for it. But somehow I knew it could. It just had to stay strong. I always liked rooting for the underdog, the ugly duckling. I guess I felt a kinship with them.

“Yeah, ” I answered.

When I brought up the drama set, Marcus gave me the same vague response about figuring something out together. I liked the sound of “together, ” but at the same time, “Loann’s like my sister” kept ringing in my head.

I changed the subject and told him about my family to remind him we weren’t related.

“Remember the girl who was at my locker? ” I asked. “She’s my sister. Claire. ”

He nodded in a show of recognition. I braced my hands on the edge of my chair. When other students found out that Claire and I were siblings, a myriad of things followed: wanting to be introduced, needing to know every last detail about her, grasping for some explanation of how I’d come from the same gene pool.

“You don’t look much alike, ” he said, eyeing the checkers game again, clearly bored with this topic.

I couldn’t quite think of a response. “Duh, ” would have worked, I guess, but somehow Marcus seemed genuine in his response. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever really met anyone so genuine in my life. I kept quiet and waited for him to share something about himself. But apparently he needed some prodding.

“So what about your family? ”

Marcus looked out the window and nibbled at his lip. Had I asked something wrong? Maybe his parents had split up. Maybe one of them had died. Or maybe I was way off and he just didn’t like to talk about his boring home life.

But then he gestured to the checkers game and said, “Armando, he’s my uncle, ” so fast I barely caught it.

I glanced over at the old man and smiled. Armando was focused on his game and didn’t look up. I turned my smile back to Marcus. “Do you live with him? ”

Marcus tilted his head a little and pulled his eyebrows together like my question didn’t make sense. “Um. No, ” he said slowly, but there was an edge to his voice.

I squinted. “So that’s why you like to come here? ” I asked.

His hands fumbled over one another on the table, and the motion made me nervous. “That’s. . . one reason, ” he said. There was clearly more to the story. But it felt like an invisible barrier had gone up between us. This subject was off-limits.

We sat for a little more than an hour before I decided to head out. Mom would be home anytime after five, and it seemed easier to be there, like normal, than to answer a bunch of questions.

Marcus didn’t offer to walk me home. He told me to take my cup to the counter before I left. “Armando’s old, ” he added. Then Marcus reached over and squeezed my hand as I stood to deliver my mug.

It was only a light touch, and he didn’t try to hold it or anything. But my heart skipped all the way to the counter.

When I turned back toward the door, I looked over at Marcus, expecting a smile or a nod or. . . something. But he just stared out the window, lost in thought.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“You want to go to the Arts Club Café again? ” Marcus asked first thing the next day. I thought it was odd that the place had a name, since there didn’t seem to be a sign.

“I don’t have any money, ” I told him.

“I’ll get it this time. ”

I smiled. It might not be a date, but it felt good to have someone want to hang out with me.

“You can pay me back, ” he added, taking a little notch out of my grin.

After school, Marcus and I headed straight to the café, where we talked more about the art on the walls. He used words like “existentialism, ” which I planned to Wiki when I got home.

An hour later, we ran out of things to say and I left. I’d told Claire I wouldn’t be home after school, but when I turned the corner toward our house, I nearly swallowed my tongue. Josh Garrison’s blue Civic sat in our driveway.

To anyone else it might have looked like an average car—a decade old with a dent in the back fender. My heart raced with excitement. To me it looked like the pearly gates of heaven welcoming me in, and as I walked toward it, I waited to hear a chorus of “Hallelujah. ”

I strode through the front door with a permagrin, expecting to see them on the couch, but there was total silence. I checked the kitchen, but found only a mess of crumbs on the counter. Maybe Claire made him a sandwich and then they went out to the backyard? But the only movement back there was the wind in the trees.

Mom and Dad had sat Claire and me down and talked about dating (not allowed until we’re sixteen) and boys in our rooms (not allowed ever. )

So much for that.

I opened the front door again, but this time I slammed it, nice and loud.

A moment later, as expected, Claire’s voice trilled from the upstairs hallway. “Yeah, so that’s the grand tour. Not that exciting. Let’s go watch some TV now, like we planned. ” Claire can be a great liar, but her false words wavered. She came into view with a slightly exaggerated bounce in her step. Josh followed, looking less enthused.

“Oh, you’re home! ” I said, feeling like such a fraud. “Hi, Josh, ” I added in little more than a whisper.

Josh smiled and I couldn’t help smiling back. His bright blue eyes were like the pictures of water in travel brochures that make everyone want to go on vacation. I blinked and forced myself to stop staring. The whole exchange, in my very own house, was making my stomach do jumping jacks toward my throat.

“I’m hungry. Want anything? ” I strode for the kitchen, forcing one foot in front of the other.

“I could go for another sandwich, ” Josh said, dropping onto the couch beside Claire.

“My mom will be home with pizza soon. ” Claire patted him twice on the knee and gave a little head-shake in my direction.

I slipped into the kitchen, letting out a long-held breath.

I wasn’t actually hungry, more like ready to toss my lunch from the idea of Josh being here, but I pulled cupboards open anyway, just to calm myself. It helped, and a few minutes later I walked back into the living room with a plate of crackers and a few cheese slices. I wasn’t really disregarding Claire’s instructions. And who cared if I was?

I set it down in front of Josh. “Just a little snack. You know, until dinner. ”

I’m pretty sure he smiled at me again, but I focused on the TV to keep my raging anxiety levels in check. In my peripheral vision, Josh leaned forward and helped himself. I inched away and sat on a chair in the corner.

Claire and Josh murmured between themselves, things I couldn’t hear. Then, I couldn’t believe it—Claire leaned forward and helped herself to a cracker and some cheese! It was all I could do to hold back from making a comment about ruining her dinner.

Not long after, Claire excused herself to the bathroom upstairs. She was funny about using the main one when guests were over. I kept my eyes drilled into the TV—it would be all I would need to have Josh catch me staring at him—but when I took a quick microglance his way, he was staring at me! The room suddenly felt warmer. And smaller.

“What? ” I blurted, in all my eloquence.

He smiled, and there was something so delectable about those upturned lips. “I was just wondering if it was true? What that paper at school said? ”

I coughed, nearly choking on my saliva. “I-I. . . It was from sixth grade, ” I said, wanting to find a bucket of ice water to submerge my head into.

“Oh. ” He nodded, his grin still in place but faltering just a little.

I glanced toward the stairs, and suddenly Claire was there. A rush of guilt ran hot through my veins.

I concentrated on breathing in and out, and pretended to watch TV again.

When Mom got home, I bolted out of my chair and went to meet her. She had two large boxes with a clear plastic container of salad on top. “Hi, Mom! Let me get the pizza for you. Claire’s boyfriend, Josh, is over, ” I said at around three hundred decibels and then mentally kicked myself for it. As if that wasn’t totally obvious. As if Claire shouldn’t be the one to make that statement. Shut up already, Loann!

Minutes later we were all seated around the table, Josh right between Claire and me. It reminded me so much of our cafeteria lunch that I felt myself flush at the thought of how Josh’s leg had brushed mine.

“So, Josh, ” Mom launched in. “It’s nice that Claire could finally bring you home for dinner. You go to Alder Grove High with the girls, right? ”

“Yes, Mrs. Rochester, ” he said, sitting up a little straighter. “I’m a junior, and on the football team. I’m hoping to get a sports scholarship next year. ”

I’d almost forgotten that Josh was in my grade and not Claire’s. We didn’t have any classes together and I usually saw him with other seniors like my sister. Whether he knew it or not, though, he’d just scored major points with Mom by mentioning a scholarship.

Claire scrunched her nose when Mom passed a plate with a slice of pizza toward her, and instead asked for one of the clean plates and reached for the salad. Claire liked pizza, and Mom had ordered her favorite—vegetarian with no onions and extra peppers. The act must be because Josh was around. Though the way he was shoveling back his third piece, I doubted he cared.

“Don’t hog it all, Claire, ” Mom said about the salad. In the last couple of years, a power struggle had cropped up between the two of them—who ate better, who dressed better, you name it. I was glad I wasn’t in that particular race.

Claire had only taken one small scoop of salad, but she closed the lid and passed it back to Mom. “Don’t worry, ” she said pointedly. “I’m really not that hungry. ”

After dinner, I cleared the plates, but kept one eye on Claire and Josh in the living room. Even though they were both smart in school, they sure seemed stupid sometimes. Claire gabbed nonstop in her regular blossomy way about her hair, which I’m sure bored Josh, and he talked about new football plays as though she was an aspiring coach. It was entertaining to watch—them staring into each other’s starry eyes, not hearing a single word out of each other’s mouths.

After cleaning up, I set my homework on the dining room table and settled in, glancing in their direction every few minutes. They didn’t leave the TV.

At nine o’clock, Mom announced the time. Which meant, Say good-bye to your friend, please, Claire in Mom-language. Claire took the hint while Mom headed back to the kitchen with her empty wineglass. I watched Claire through my eyelashes as she walked Josh to the door. Neither of them acknowledged me, but I knew I had faded into the background over the last couple of hours, so I wasn’t offended. But then Claire turned and caught me watching.

I darted my eyes back to my homework, but I guess it was too late. The door opened and they took their good-bye outside.

I was interested to see exactly how their good-night kiss worked: Would he just kiss her right away, or stroke her cheek or something so she knew it was coming? Would they both shut their eyes like they do in the movies, or do people always have to shut their eyes when they kiss? I had so many questions. Peeking out the living room window, I didn’t see any sign of them near Josh’s car so I raced upstairs to my window that overlooked the side yard.

I’d missed the beginning. Josh and Claire were already kissing out beside the oak tree and the streetlight gave just enough glow to see them. The jealous irk in my gut soon gave way. It was mesmerizing to see two such beautiful people kissing in real life. After the weekend I’d spent photographing our yard, this new addition made me want to tilt my head to try to frame it. It would make a great photo.

I reached across my desk to grab my camera, then pulled it up to my face, bringing Josh and Claire quickly into focus.

Seconds later, I had the shot. And it was perfect.

I placed my camera on the desk gently, then looked up in time to see Josh walking to his car. As Claire headed for the front door, Josh backed his car out of our driveway. When he pulled into the street, he looked up to my bedroom window. I stayed perfectly still, hoping the dark would conceal me. But I knew by the way his eyes lingered, my room wasn’t quite dark enough.

CHAPTER EIGHT

By the next day, I was so psyched at not having to go to drama class that I’d actually picked up some of Marcus’s confidence about our ability with the set.

“Come on, ” I said, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him through the hallway. “It’s our first day of stagecraft. ”

His eyebrows rose, but I suspected he was holding back a smile. “What’s got you so excited all of a sudden? Been taking your caffeine intravenously today? Or got some brilliant construction ideas? ” When I let go of his arm, he shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

“Well, no. But I’ve been looking over the script and I took a book out of the library on set design. I don’t know, I thought it might spark something. ”

Marcus didn’t agree or disagree with this, but when we walked into the backstage area and I remembered just how haphazard the whole place was, my enthusiasm faltered.

Marcus headed over to a pile of what looked like garbage and started pulling off pieces of drywall and wood. “Why don’t we see if there is anything usable here first? ”

Okay. What was a usable-sized piece? I moved over to the pile and followed his lead. I held up pieces and asked him if he thought this or that would work for anything, but his answer was always no.

“What are we going to do? ” I asked under my breath for probably the hundredth time.