Page 17 of Daydream

“Oh, I love that! Also I’m not sure anyone has ever described me being a college junior and living alone in my nana’s house as cool. But I’ll accept the baking praise,” she says, pulling at the sleeve of her cardigan. “Thank you.”

“Why don’t you live with your friends?” I ask, and judging by the way her face sinks, I think that was one of those things I’m not supposed to ask.

“That’s a good question. A really good question, um…” I’m stuck between her telling me it’s a good question and her visible discomfort. I’m about to say she can just ignore it when she finally answers. “I don’t have any friends, really. Ones I kinda had don’t go to UCMH, but everyone dropped me when I split up with my boyfriend anyway.”

She looks embarrassed, but only a couple of years ago I didn’t have friends, either. Now, if anything, I might have too many. They’re hard to keep track of, but I think adding one more won’t hurt. “I’m your friend.”

Her eyebrow tweaks up. It’s an expression I’m used to. It means I’ve caught her off guard. I seem to be forever catching people off guard. “You’re not.”

“Yeah, I am,” I say a little harder.

“That’s not how people make friends,” she insists.

“How would you know? You just said you don’t have any.” The way she visibly flinches guts me. I move on quickly. “We’re friends, Halle. Friends do nice things together. I let you use my house for a book club and you brought me food. I’m not saying you should live with me or anything, but you’re not friendless.”

“Okay, we can be friends then,” she says, her shoulders dropping an inch as she relaxes a little. I don’t want her to be uncomfortable around me, and Idowant to be her friend.

“Good. This weekend is our annual preseason party that my roommate said he was too old and mature to throw, so it’s obviously happening anyway. You should come, so I know you mean it when you say we can be friends.”

I think Russ and I are the only people not alarmed about Robbie wanting to party less. The rest of the team, however, particularly the ones who Nate wouldn’t let in and are now older, all feel like they’re missing out on some kind of rite of passage. Robbie didn’t say he’d never throw another party; he said he wants to focus on showing Faulkner what he’s capable of and being more responsible. But obviously nobody listens to anything properly, as I discover every practice, and they just heard “less parties.”

Before Nate and JJ moved out, Robbie viewed multiple places to live on his own this year. He said he wanted to create some distance between Robbie our friend, and Robbie the man hoping to get a faculty position once he’s finished his studies.

Robbie said the only reason he didn’t move out when he wanted was because none of the places that were available were built with disabled people in mind. He said the stress he would have experienced trying to get a landlord to do the bare minimum like improve the building accessibility and safety wasn’t worth it, and he’d look again in a year.

Halle rolls her eyes at my offer, tucking Harold Oscar’s bookunder her arm as she stands from my bed. “I don’t think so. It’d be weird to go to a party alone, and I have stuff to do. Assignments, my writing project, book club stuff, y’know.”

“You won’t be alone. I’ll be there.”

“You’ll be busy with your friends.”

“We just established you’re my friend.”

She sighs, but it’s different from when Anastasia sighed earlier. “Are you always this… persistent? Convincing? Dare I say, slightly stubborn?”

“I don’t know,” I admit honestly. “I never need to work this hard usually. Most women want to be my friend.”

“I’m sure they do, Henry. I’m going to go, I have work soon, but I’m going to borrow this book, if that’s okay?”

I shrug. “Sure. I’m not reading it anyway.”

“Thanks again for the garden.”

“Thanks again for the cookies.”

She turns to leave, and right before the door closes, I call her. “Halle?”

Her face peeks through the small gap. “Yes?”

“I really do like your hair.”

Chapter SixHALLE

“FOUND ANYTHING?”

I look up from my tablet screen and give Cami an unenthusiastic thumbs-down. “Sadly, they don’t seem to stockhappy, healthy kidsorto live long enough to see my children get marriedonline. Maybe a fruit basket?”

“Fruit basket is good. It’ll help with the long-life thing,” Cami says, taking the seat beside me in the break room. She leans over to look at the options on the fifth department store “gifts for her” section I’ve scoured since my brother texted our sibling group chat asking whatwewere getting Mom for her birthday next week. “Could you maybe promise to take her to a spa when you go home for Thanksgiving?”

---