Page 3 of Michael: The Hawthornes

“Yeah?” Emilia said, reaching up to fix the bangs she’d just cut the night before. “I wasn’t sure—”

“No, it suits your face. Very cute.”

“Thanks,” Emilia said happily.

I sat up and pulled Emilia with me as my mom opened up my door.

“Not sure you should be takin’ hair advice from someone who regularly cuts hers into a mohawk,” I said jokingly, dodging my mom as she tried to pinch me.

“Yeah, right,” Emilia said as she climbed out behind me. “Your mom always looks awesome.”

“I like her,” my mom said to me. “Make sure you don’t fuck it up.”

Emilia laughed.

“Why wouldIfuck it up?” I asked as I followed them toward my mom’s van. “Maybe it’ll beEmmy.”

“Ha!” my mom said, wrapping her arm around Emilia’s waist. “Emmy’s an angel.”

Emilia looked at me over her shoulder and stuck her tongue out.

I grumbled as I grabbed bags of groceries out of the back of the van, but I wasn’t really mad. I actually pretty much loved that Emilia got along with my family so well. It wasn’t a surprise, she got along with everyone and had always been pretty universally liked, but there was something different about how my family treated her. They loved her. It wasn’t conditional on whether or not we were together, we’d had a couple break ups, especially in the beginning before we’d started the whole “tutoring” thing and weren’t able to hang out very much—but they’d treated her the same whether we were off or on.

Emilia’s house wasn’t like ours. Her parents loved her and I didn’t think they’d ever neglected her or hurt her or anything like that… they just expected a lot. When they didn’t get what they wanted or she disappointed them, they iced her out. I always knew when it happened. She’d show up at school quieter than normal or she’d snap at me for something she’d thought was funny the day before, or like this morning, she’d show up with a new hairstyle she’d done herself. I could always tell, though. It was impossible for her to hide anything from me, we knew each other so well.

“Otto was home with a headache today,” my mom said as we headed into the house. “So heads up, he’s in the family room.”

“Poor guy,” Emilia said quietly. “We’ll keep it down.”

“He’s just watching TV, honey,” Mom said, putting her bags on the counter. “You don’t have to be quiet.”

“He has a hard time sleepin’,” I explained, looking around. “Where the hell is Rumi? Why isn’t he helpin’?”

“I didn’t see him, so I thought he rode the bus?” my mom said in confusion.

“He rode with us,” I replied.

“That little shit,” my mom said, narrowing her eyes. “I bet he’s out back.”

She raced for the back door and I followed her, holding the door open as she tried to close it in my face.

“Mom’s coming, Rum,” I yelled, laughing as she backhanded me in the belly. “The fish flies at midnight! Abort mission! Abort!”

I was still laughing as I shut the door and turned to face Emilia.

“The fish flies at midnight?” she asked in amusement.

“It was one of our code phrases when we were little,” I explained, unpacking and storing shit in the pantry. “There was also, ‘the blue moon shines in the morningandthe archer shoots in darkness.’”

“You guys were weird,” she said, tossing me a box of cereal.

“You already knew that,” I said with a shrug. “You still want to jump me.”

“All the time,” she said, copying my shrug as she threw another box my way.

“You wanna leave a little early tonight?” I asked, lowering my voice so Otto wouldn’t hear me in the family room.

“If we keep parking at the back of the property at your dad’s club, they’re going to know we’re out there doing stuff,” she said, widening her eyes at me.

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