Summer Skies and Ocean Eyes

The five of us were so matchy, I couldn’t bear to look at the pictures popping up on the computer screen one by one as they loaded. Kendall and Mom were completely enveloped with every shot, cooing and pointing as they leaned over the poor photographer who was just trying to get his job done.

Jon and Griffin had long since went to toss a football back and forth on the front lawn of the photo studio, having changed out of their matching white t-shirts the moment the session ended. I was itching to join them, but Mom had insisted I look over the pictures with her and Kendall and help pick some out.

My mouth was still sore and tingling from all of the smiling I had to do for the past two hours. All we needed was one picture to put in the foyer, I hadn’t thought that would entail going to five different sceneries on the studio’s property while thousands of shots were taken. The photographer urged us to be natural and “play around,” but by the third change of background in the middle of a field of tropical flowers, I was particularly grumpy.

Of course Kendall soaked up every moment of it—I was positive that it was impossible for her to take a bad picture. Now, where we were clumped around the computer’s wide screen, her laughter flitted through the spacious editing room.

“Cal! Look at your face in this one!” she squealed, still in Model Mode as she posed with her hand on her chest. My narrowed eyes went unnoticed as she and mom continued to chuckle at me in every frame.

The three of us were dressed in blindingly-white t-shirts. It was snug across my torso, with a dipping u-neck. In every one of the pictures, you could catch the gleam of us girls’ matching necklaces against our breastbones.

“Oh, here’s a good one.” Mom stopped laughing at her picture-impaired daughter and quieted down, pointing at the screen. The photographer, a plump, graying man, nodded. He had too-tanned skin that crinkled like leather. After enthusiastically shouting at the five of us for the past two hours, telling us what to do and where to look and how to smile and blahblahblah, he had lost his voice.

Kendall’s phone rang, playing some overplayed pop song. She dug it out of the pocket of her jean shorts. It wasn’t until she checked the screen to see who was calling when the grin completely vanished from her face.

Excusing herself with a flurry of words that barely made it out of her lips, she left. “Hello?”

Mom hadn’t even glanced up from the pictures. Seeing my opportunity, I began to withdraw from the room. Putting my hands in my pockets, I considered nonchalantly whistling before I reached the doorway. Mom didn’t flinch away from the screen.

Once I reached the hall, I glanced both ways, hopeful to see where Kendall had jogged off to. But both ends of the white hallway was empty.

Huh. Shrugging to myself, simply happy that I had escaped the doom of looking through the pictures, I made my way past the front lobby.

Jon and Griffin were still on the front lawn. It was professionally designed with blocks of bushes and flowers that were as big as my head. The football whooshed through the air before landing in their hands with a solid whop.

“Hey Cal,” Jon greeted in his deep, American Man voice. He pelted the ball at his son, who thankfully was used to how his father threw and caught it. Griffin whirled to me, excitedly gripping the football in his tiny hands.

“Are they done? Is it time to go?” He asked, looking elated at the thought of getting to leave. Out of everyone, Griffin had been the only other person who appeared to hate taking pictures just as much as me. Mom had originally combed the kid’s hair before the shoot started, but by the first hundred shots, it had gone back to its normal mess.

“Afraid not. My mom’s still looking through the pictures.” I squished my nose, signaling that I felt his pain. His tiny shoulders collapsed as he turned, half-heartedly throwing the football back to his dad. Jon caught it, twirling it expertly between his fingers.

“Too bad. You want to play catch?”

I nodded, putting a couple yards between myself and Griffin. Jon tossed me the ball when I was ready, a lot softer than I had seen him throw it to Griffin. Sniffing to myself to mask my annoyance, I placed my fingers along the white stitching. With the form my dad had coached me on ever since I was five—he sucked at sports, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a huge football fan—I geared back and shot the ball right at Jon’s chest.

The pop of the leather against his hands was satisfying. Jon’s lips grew into a bright smile as if he was seeing a different part of me for the first time. “Nice, Cal.”

I nodded, doing a delicate curtsy. “Why, thank you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me Mom was coming home?” Kendall burst from the front door of the lobby, trampling toward us on the lush, green grass. Jon froze, the smile still on his face though the feeling had left it.

“What?”

It was like Kendall didn’t see Griffin or I as she stormed in front of her father, still gripping her cell phone tightly in her hand. The sun shone brilliantly against their blonde-white hair.

“Why didn’t. You tell me. About Mom.” A hurricane was passing through Kendall’s eyes.

Jon composed himself, standing up straight and gaining his fatherly edge back. “She called two days ago. I haven’t had a chance yet to talk to you and Griffin.”

She furiously shook her head, transforming from a fifteen year-old into a toddler. I was waiting for her to stomp her foot. “There were plenty of chances! You could have at least mentioned it! And now she’s going to be here in three days?”

“Kendall.” Jon’s voice was soothing. After being a single father for so many years, he had gotten good at dealing with his moody teenage daughter. As good as a dad could be, anyway. “Calm down. This is the whole reason I wanted to wait for the right moment to tell you. I knew you would be upset.”

“Upset? I’m like, not upset.” Her voice sharply contrasted her words. Jon nodded as if he completely understood. “I just want you to stop treating me like a baby and tell me what’s going on! Now she’s going to be here soon and I don’t have enough time to get my hair cut and clean out my closet and go shopping and get my nails done and-”

The last word shot out of her mouth before she stopped herself short. Like she suddenly realized what a scene she was making, her shoulders relaxed. Kendall was definitely halfway between adolescence and adulthood. Sucking in a deep breath, she looked at the ground as her flushed face changed back to a normal color.

“Whatever. Sorry, Dad. I just wanted you to tell me,” she murmured, shaking her head.

“I know, I know. And I’m sorry. Next time I’ll let you know as soon as plans are made,” Jon assured her, using that same, low voice like he was coaxing a wild animal.

Raising her head, Kendall looked between Jon, Griffin, and I before walking back into the building. Griffin stared after his sister for a long time, then turned to his dad.

“So Mom’s coming to visit?” he asked in a voice abnormally quieter than his own. Jon squeezed the ball between his thick fingers.

“Yeah, bud. She’ll be here in three days.” Jon was watching him carefully, in an almost protective way.

Like Griffin was thinking over a great math equation, he frowned with the effort. Nodding once, he held his hands in front of his chest. “Okay. Throw me the ball, Dad.”

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼

Crap. I had forgotten my cell phone.

Turning on my heel, I walked back into the house and quickly took off my flip-flops. I was already running late to Juan’s house. A group of us were going there to check out his dad’s new home theater, complete with popcorn machine and snack bar. I could have rolled my eyes at other people’s wealth, but there was no way I was going to turn down my invite.

Plus, Tommy was going to be there. And, of course, Poot and Emily and Lindsay and all those other people—but I couldn’t help but feel excited when I remembered what had happened the last time the two of us were sitting in a quiet theater.

“So three days?”

I normally wouldn’t have stopped so blatantly in front of Jon and Mom’s room, but the repetition of the “three days” phrase caught my attention. After we had gotten home, Kendall was acting a lot quieter than usual. She hadn’t spoke during Lilia’s dinner of pork and some rice and peas dish.

Then, she skipped out on watching Monk. When I had went upstairs to get ready to leave, she had almost all of her clothes thrown into different piles around her room. With the frantic way she was looking them over, I figured I’d wait until later to ask her what was wrong.

“Yes. Three days,” Jon’s voice steadily vibrated through the crack in the door. “She’s staying at the LaPlaya Resort with her boyfriend.”

There was a pause on the other side of the door. “With her boyfriend? She bringing her boyfriend with her to see the kids? Do they know him, or...?”

“No. They don’t. I think it has something to do with you-” Mom snorted at Jon’s words. “I don’t even know the name of the man she’s seeing right now. She goes through a couple men that she works with every year.”

I didn’t miss the sour pinch of Jon’s voice as I stood in the hall, trying not to breathe so they wouldn’t have a chance of noticing my presence. The thud of someone falling to the bed reached my ears.

“Wow. That must be the life,” Mom chuckled, attempting to lighten the mood. “Why is she coming so out-of-the-blue anyway?”

Jon sighed. “I imagine it has something to do with Kendall and her internship at the marine lab. It isn’t exactly what Veronica had planned for her.”

I glanced down the hall at Kendall’s closed door.

“She’s really excited about that internship, and she already signed all those papers and release forms. Does Veronica think she can change things by coming here?” Mom asked. I imagined that Jon shrugged.

“I’m not sure. I’m really not sure. All I can do is try and be civil. She’s their mom, and the kids haven’t seen her since last May.” Jon already sounded defeated as Mom contemplated what he had said.

I would have stayed to listen some more, but I remembered why I had been back upstairs in the first place. Quickly tip-toeing back into my room, I snatched my phone, then sprinted downstairs.

Emily was going to have a fit, I was half an hour late.

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼

After the first movie was over—some guts-all-over-the-place summer flick that I had watched between the cracks of my fingers—everyone had congregated in the “lobby” the led into the theater room. Juan was soaking up all the praise, acting like he, and not his mom, was the brain surgeon who earned all the money to add it onto the already mansion-like house.

I had to admit, everything was impressive. It felt like an actual movie theater, complete with staggered seating on a slope, and those little lights that guided us when the room went dark. To me, that was enough to make it official.

Emily swung our hands back and forth as we walked to the snack bar, watching as Juan and his friend Brandon made a show of making popcorn. They had found little paper pirate hats behind the counter, and wasted no time in securing the elastic around their heads.

“Can we interest you in some libation, ladies?” Juan asked with a horrible British accent, leaning against the drink machine. The smell of butter wafted heavily through the air, accented by the constant crack and pop of the popcorn.

“Dear me, that would be oh so very nice of you.” Emily met Juan’s taped-together accent with her own southern belle one. She mock-fluttered her eyelashes at him as I tried my best not to chuckle at their stupid banter.

There were about fifteen of us all in the room; lounging on the sofas, raiding the snack bar, or playing the old arcade games that Juan’s mom, Mrs. Altos, had bought. It figured that even though the room was seemingly stuffed with people, I could feel the exact location of where Tommy was.

Unfortunately, since I had arrived late, I had to choose between sitting with Tommy or Emily. Of course I chose Emily. I always chose my friends over a guy. If I had been there when the movie started, I could have gotten everyone to sit together.

“Here.” Emily pushed a glass of fizzling Coke to me. It slopped over the sides, coming to a stop right in front of my nose. My head jerked back—eyes crossing—and I snatched it away before she threatened to spill it on me again. “And Tommy keeps looking over here.”

I took in a deep breath of the popcorn through my nose, scooting out of the way so others could walk up to Juan and play his snack-bar game.

“Probably because you keep on looking over there,” I challenged, taking a long draw from the cup. “You’re such a creeper.”

Emily rolled her eyes, adjusting the short black dress she had on before crossing her arms. “Seriously. When are you two going to get together?”

I almost choked on my drink, causing the smallest bit to dribble down my chin. My friend laughed, gleefully looking around to see if anyone else witnessed it. Luckily, she was the only one who was paying attention.

“I don’t think you understand,” I sniffled, using the back of my hand to wipe my face.

“What’s there not to understand?” she deviously asked, looking at me with that stupid twinkle in her eye that showed exactly what she was thinking. It was like Emily was trying to make up for all the times she let me change the conversation away from Tommy.

“Tommy’s...just Tommy. You know? He’s not the type of guy to ‘get together’ with a girl,” I mumbled over the chatter of teenagers. They were all talking about their favorite intestine-rific part of the last movie, it made my own stomach twinge with unease.

“What about ‘get together’ with a boy?” Emily laughed, pleased with herself.

“Emily. You’re stupid,” I grinned.

“Who’s stupid?” Poot asked as he and Tommy walked up, their arms wrapped around each other in a corny, brotherly way.

“Well, now that you and the Mrs. have walked up, that honor falls on both of you.” Yes! A good zing! Finally! I triumphantly smiled, smugly raising my cup to take a Victory Sip.

My jab was received by dry, bored expressions as Tommy and Poot looked at me exactly the same way. Without another word, Tommy grabbed the drink out of my hand. Tipping his head back like doing a shot, he downed the rest of my Coke. With a smirk, the empty cup was handed back to me.

Then they high-fived.

The fact that I had managed to come up with something witty to say a minute ago made me all the more frustrated that my mind was running a blank now. I looked to Emily for support, but she was still laughing—ever amused with the two of them.

“Hey guys! If everyone’s got their munchies, I’m going to go back into the theater and start up the next movie!” Juan called over everyone’s head, interrupting our semi-squabble. A couple people began making their way back into the dark room, carting their bags of candy and popcorn with them.

I turned to Emily. “I have to pee really quick, I’ll be right back.”

Pretending like Poot and Tommy didn’t exist, I walked out of the lobby. I had been to Juan’s house before, so I knew where at least one of the bathrooms were.

By the time I had finished, the whole house was in a quiet lull. I could hear the beginning of the movie rumble and echo through the large house, Juan was putting the new speakers to the test.

Shutting the bathroom door behind myself, I adjusted my tank top and turned to walk down the hall.

Tommy was standing there. I was so surprised by his presence, my feet locked beneath me. Placing my hand over my heart to try and forget the jump it gave, I sighed. “Jeez, Tommy, do you think you could-”

But I didn’t get to finish my sentence. Before I could fully register what was happening, Tommy strode to me in three long steps. Fluidly pressing me against the wall, his body pushed against mine.

His hands were quickly around my neck: thumbs pressing against my pulse on each side. Tommy’s misty eyes were serious, tinged with something raw I couldn’t quite recognize. Want. Or maybe need. Even though, it seemed preposterous that Tommy would want or need anyone.

My stomach and heart collided before each dropped to my toes. I didn’t have a chance to take it all in, because Tommy’s lips were on mine. It wasn’t like all the other kisses—this one had the power to make me forget every single reason of why I was annoyed with him. Ever.

His breath was intoxicating, tongue: warm and wet as it traced my top lip and caught me in a sigh. Hot champagne was running through my veins as I could feel every inch of him against me. He held me harder against the wall, like he couldn’t get close enough.

So much more careful than last time, Tommy’s mouth worked perfectly against my lips. Heated. Deliberate. Achingly slow. He had that heart-racing, deep breathing-inducing touch—I was electrically aware of fingers, his lips, his body.

My hands wrapped around his torso, clinging him to me in a surprisingly desperate way. How he smelled, tasted, felt, ran through my mind on repeat. As close as we were, I wanted more, and more, and more. I became daring and spread my fingers through his hair, smoothed them around his face, and gently pressed them against the base of his spine.

Everything felt so good, it was like coming to a grinding stop as soon as he pulled away, resting his forehead against mine. I could smell his minty breath, see his eyes searching mine as the two of us panted.

A gulp loudly sounded off as it went down my throat, making Tommy chuckle. He leaned down, catching my bottom lip between his in a lingering peck that was all-too-short. My chin tilted up to follow his lips like some kind of magnet.

I was sure a limb was missing from my body as he completely let go of me, taking a step back. The air between us was miles long, like it wasn’t natural for such a thing to be separating our bodies.

Sheepishly running a hand through the hair that I had made a mess of, he gave me a crooked, boyish smile. With that, Tommy turned and walked back around the curve of the hall that would lead to the faux lobby.

Still leaning my back against the wall for support, I wished and wished that he would come back, even though I knew he wouldn’t. Not right now, at least. Closing my eyes, I waited for my heart to get back to a somewhat normal pace.

“What a tool,” I whispered to myself with what had to have been the biggest smile of the century.

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼

The next day, my head hadn’t stopped spinning from the kiss with Tommy. I couldn’t so much as remember what the second movie of the night had been, I was in such a daze. Emily must have noticed, but again, I couldn’t remember if she had asked me if anything was wrong, or even spoke to me for the rest of the evening.

Practically prancing downstairs, I went to the kitchen. Mom looked up at me over a steaming mug of Lilia’s infamous Puerto Rican hot chocolate. I had been surprised when Lilia revealed the secret to it was cheese.

Lilia herself was standing across from where Mom was seated on the barstool. With a stern hello, she nodded her head at me. “Let me get you some drink.”

Accepting the inevitable, I took a seat beside my mom. Due to my airy attitude, I didn’t notice the look on her face until Lilia had plopped a steaming cup of hot chocolate in front of me. Pressing my fingers gingerly around the mug, I leaned toward her. “Are you okay, Mom?”

Like I had woken her from a dream, she jumped. Chuckling without humor, she shook her head and took a sip of her hot chocolate. “Oh, I’m fine. I’m fine. There’s just a lot going on.”

I didn’t miss the tutting of Lilia as she wiped down the counter. They must have been talking before I made my grand entrance. Glancing between the two of them, I blew on the top of my drink.

“The whole thing with Kendall and Griffin’s mom coming here?” I timidly asked. At first, Mom pretended like I had asked a ludicrous question, but quickly lost her bravado as her head sunk between her shoulders.

“I’m a little nervous about it. That’s all.” Her words barely made it out of the cup she had bent her mouth to. I looked Lilia like she would help give me more of an idea what mom meant, but all she did was continue to clean an already-clean spot.

“Yeah?” I prompted. Usually, Mom was a lot easier to crack then this. On a normal day, I wouldn’t have had to even ask for her to spill out every thought and worry and regret. I used to dislike being her personal shrink, but now all I wanted was for her to talk to me. At least, a little bit.

“Nothing, Cal. Really.” Mom smiled, placing a mug-warmed hand on my kneecap and giving it a squeeze. “Poot and Tommy are here, by the way. You should go say ‘hi’ to them. Or something.”

With the way Mom was trying to hand me off, not even the mention of Tommy’s name excited me. Sullenly sipping on my hot chocolate, I nodded. The three of us were silent as I finished my drink. I had an annoying, pestering feeling like Mom and Lilia were waiting for me to leave so that they could begin talking again.

After being treated like an adult most of my life by my mom, it was infuriating that she was suddenly putting me under the rank of a child.

As I walked to the backyard, I shook off the irritation. It was hard to feel that way when Tommy was right there.

“Wow,” I lowly whistled, approaching something that actually looked like an almost-finished shed. Poot looked up from the insulation he was cutting apart on a desk, squinting his eyes from the glare of the bright sun.

“You like?” He gave the wall of the small building a brotherly pat. I crossed my eyes smiling as I walked closer and peered around the corner. Tommy was inside, starting to lay the padding in the walls. He glanced up as I stared though the window, then playfully sneered before getting back to work.

Ba-GUNK. My heart jumped. I wondered if I was going to continuously feel like a preteen girl every time Tommy looked at me.

“Yeah,” I flatly replied, wishing Tommy was looking my way again so I could flip him off. Then, I realized how I had said it, and made my voice sound more upbeat. “Yeah!”

Poot shook head head at me, gripping the sharp knife tightly in his hand as he bent down to cut more insulation. “We’re going to be done soon, and then you’re not going to have to insanely hot guys working with their shirts off in your backyard anymore.”

I slapped my hands to my cheeks in mock-fear. “Oh my God. What ever am I going to do without the daily creepers?”

Poot pointed the knife at me, realized what he was doing, then pointed a finger instead. “Hey. We prefer the term ‘stalker.’ It’s much more politically correct.”

“Creeper, stalker, same thing.” I leaned against the workbench as I watched him cut through the bright pink, fluffy stuff. It was going to be strange not to wake up to the sound of hammers or booming guy laughter.

“How much longer do you think you have until it’s absolutely finished?” I questioned, watching through the window as Tommy’s brow took on an adorable line of concentration.

“A couple more days.” Poot leaned over his work to get a better view. The knife made a crisp sound as it sliced though the material. “And hey, you still up for snorkeling tomorrow?”

I grinned at the thought, enthusiastically nodding my head. Last night, Poot had gotten the grand idea that we should get the people who were at Juan’s to go snorkeling off the coast.

“Okay Cal, no need to make your head snap off your neck.” Tommy joined us outside of the shed. I pursed my lips, keeping silent. They knew by now I wasn’t all that quick, so I no longer felt the pressure to snap something back.

“I can’t help it. I’m excited.” I enunciated every word as if it was a way of telling him off. Trying to seem indifferent, I picked up a chunk of the insulation and held it close to my face to examine it. Tommy gently pushed my hand, making it collide with my nose as I flinched in what must have been a very unattractive way.

Gritting my teeth as the boys laughed, I mustered up a dark look that made Poot gulp down his chuckles. Tommy smiled in that cocky way of his, framed by parenthesis in his cheeks. I had the urge to trace my finger through one of the lines, my clamped my hands into fists, instead.

Tommy sighed, putting his hands on his hips. His boxers and shorts moved with the weight, and I found my eyes lingering a bit too long at his waistband. Luckily, he wasn’t paying attention to me, but his friend.

Discreetly clearing my throat as I tore my eyes away to look at a tree—the sky—the shed—anything else, I tried to contain the tugging behind my navel that reeled me toward him.

“Anyway, about tomorrow: I don’t think I’m going to go,” Tommy said. Poot sat the knife down on the work bench, rolling his eyes as he pulled out the folded red bandana from his shorts.

“Why not?” he strongly asked, placing the sweatband look-alike over his forehead. Tommy stood there, kicking at the grass as Poot adjusted his hair beneath the fabric.

“I don’t really want to spend the whole day with Juan and those guys.” Tommy was a whiny child as he restlessly bounced on his knees. Poot let out a knowing laugh, placing his hands firmly on the table.

“Tom. Seriously. It’s going to be a good time. You know that.” He kept a smile fixed on his face, but I could hear a hint of exasperation starting to pick at his voice. Tommy looked at me, throwing a thought back and forth in his mind.

“It’s tiring to be with them. You know what I mean.”

Poot sighed, swinging his head to me as he looked at me from half-closed eyelids. I could almost feel his pep draining from him like a faucet.

“Cal, convince him to go. I’m not even going to try today.” He actually did sound tired as the smile he had been keeping up vanished. Judging by the uncomfortable, yet defiant gaze on his face, Tommy knew it, too.

The three of us stood awkwardly beneath the blaring sun as I tried to think of something to say. Of all the moments to be un-charasmatic, this had to be the worst. They weren’t looking at each other, both sets of eyes were on me.

“Tommy, just go.” Yes. That was the grand, compelling sentence I came up with.

Poot went back to cutting pieces of insulation, making a schwip, schwip noise to fill the silence. As he focused on his work, I glared at Tommy. I viciously mouthed threats at him, pointing at Poot.

He gave me a peeved expression, catching on that I was mainly saying “Do it for Poot! You jackass.” Tommy joined in mouthing back to me—both of us were gesturing wildly back and forth.

Just then, Poot looked up, tapping his knife against the table. Pretending like nothing had been happening, Tommy and I clamped our mouths shut.

“Tommy, if you really don’t want to go, I can’t make you,” Poot slowly said. His tone was defeated and stretched tight. “I don’t want you to miss out on stuff. It’s...good to get out with other people. But do whatever you want to.”

Tommy shifted where he stood. Poot’s words weren’t powerful or eloquent, but they delivered a healthy dose of guilt.

Feeling the heavy weight of the conversation, I cracked. “And there’s going to be fruit pizza. My mom’s going to make it for us.

Once again, both of them were looking at me, the smallest trace of amusement feathered in their expressions. Poot let out a puff of a laugh, slinging an arm over my shoulders.

“Yeah man, if you aren’t going to do it for me, at least do it for the fruit pizza.”

Tommy breathily wheezed, like we were going to be the death of him. But, as his sea eyes rolled, he threw his hands in the air.

“Fine. Whatever. I’m in, as long as I get the biggest piece.” His arms dropped to his sides and bounced off his waist. Poot removed his arm from me, clapping his hands together as he tried to gain back that old Poot Momentum.

“Thank God,” he said sarcastically. Tommy started walking back to the door of the shed, then stopped, pointing a warning finger at his best friend.

“But don’t think I’m doing it for any other reason,” he jokingly warned. “It’s not because I love you, man.”

Poot scoffed, “Keep telling yourself that. I still remember what you said to me when I fell asleep in your arms last night.”

My shoulders slouched as they went into their lover’s banter. I was starting to find it was a pivotal part of how they worked as friends. Heavy, hard moments had to be quickly covered up by jokes and teasing, or else I didn’t think they would have been able to handle each other.

“Not in front of Calico, Poot. I thought we had an agreement.” Tommy played along, sounding secretive and betrayed.

Ha. As if he needed to pretend to have secrets.

“Cool,” I said solidly, “Boys are strange.”

And with that, I turned around and walked back to my house, listening to Poot and Tommy share a chuckle behind me.

It was hard to try and think of where I fit into their dynamic, and it made me wonder how things had been before I moved to Florida. It was scary and saddening to imagine Poot, trying to pull Tommy back up after hard nights, keeping a safe eye on him, and attempting to get him back to life again, all by himself.

I thought, in a way, Poot was almost waiting for Tommy to do what Drew did. Expecting it, but trying to fix things while he could.

Checking over my shoulder before walking back into the house, Poot and Tommy were talking with quiet smiles. I ran my tongue over my teeth, watching Tommy walk to Poot and cross his arms as they chatted.

He was extremely lucky to have Poot as his best friend, and I wondered if he knew it.