Page 79 of I Hope This Doesn't Find
“You mean it? We’re still— We’re cool?”
I nod. Raise my eyebrows. “Who else am I supposed to talk to when I’ve just kissed someone in the corridor during a rainstorm?”
I watch the understanding sink in. Her jaw unhinges. Her eyes light up. She grabs my hand, squeezing hard. “You don’t mean . . . You and—”
I can only nod again, unable to help the grin spreading over my face.
“Holy shit,” she yelps, and all the tension between us thaws as she springs up fully on the bed, and it’s like every sleepover we’ve ever had, giggling into our pillows and whispering with the lights out. “Okay, you have to tell meeverything. Don’t spare any details—actually, no, you can spare certain details, but, like, was it good? Was he good? Are you together now?”
I’m laughing so hard my stomach hurts, and even though I know we’ll both be exhausted tomorrow, we stay up talking until four in the morning, and when I finally do fall asleep, I feel lighter than I have in years.
•••
“How was your school trip?” Mom asks from behind the bakery counter. I had braced myself for a mess when I first walked in, imagining burnt bread and invalid receipts and spilled jam and a thousand other mini disasters to sort through after my time away. But everything is in perfect order. TheSORRY, WE ARE CLOSEDsign has already been hung up on the front door, and most of the shelves have been cleared.
I set my bag down on the spotless floor, then seat myself at an empty table. My arms are still sore from the camp activities, and my shirt is all wrinkled, and my left shoe is damp from when I’d accidentally stepped into a puddle on my way to the bus, but I feel a smile drift up to my face, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like I can’t think of a single reason why Ishouldn’tbe smiling, why I haven’t been doing it more my whole life. “Good. Great, actually.”
She assesses me for a few beats, her eyes warm. “You look very happy.”
“So do you,” I say in surprise, studying her too. It’s hard to place what, exactly, is different, only that it is. Maybe it’s something about the evening light streaming in through the windows and softening her features, or the relaxed line of her shoulders. Or just how still she is. In all my memories of her, she’s moving around, restless, rushing to get from one place to another.
“Because you are,” she says. “Also, Max has good news. He’s been waiting for you to get back to tell you himself.”
I crane my neck. “Good news?”
The second the words leave my lips, Max pops out from the back room. “Surprise,” he calls, beaming wide.
I’m instantly wary. “Is this one of those jokes where you say you’re the surprise because your presence itself is a gift?”
“No, though I’m very flattered you think so,” Max says, pulling out the chair opposite me with a drawn-out scraping sound. “I have something better than that.” He pauses dramatically and clears his throat. “You might want to be seated for this.”
“I’m already seated.”
“It’s a figure of speech,” he says, annoyed. “Cooperate, please.”
“Aiya, just hurry up and tell her, Max,” my mom urges, stepping out from behind the counter to join us. She even takes her work apron off, which is how I know that whatever’s coming is a big deal. I’ve seen her fall asleep with that thing on.
“Okay. So basically, a scout for the Hunters—yes,the Hunters—has been coming to a few of my games and . . . in short, they’re interested in recruiting me. Like, super interested. Like, if this were a marriage, they’re already shopping around for the ring. And it’s occurring to me as I speak that that’s a weird analogy, but, like, whatever, because they’reinterested.”
My jaw drops. “I— Oh my god.” It’s all I can think to say. “Are you—are you for real?”
He grins at me. “Obviously.”
I’m still fumbling around for proper words to express how elated I am, how relieved, how shocked, so I slap his arm instead.
“Hey!” he yelps. “Why are you hitting me—”
“Whenwasthis? Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”
“I mean, it’s kind of been a developing situation for the past few months, and I didn’t want to get your hopes up too quickly in case you were disappointed . . .”
Past few months.I’m aware that I’m gaping, but I can’t help it. This entire time I’ve been worried sick about him and his future, desperate to solve every problem to come up, because I thought that he wasn’t worried at all.That he simply didn’t care enough. But he’s okay—far better than okay. And this bakery is okay too. And, somehow, so is my mom, who’s smiling at both of us, her eyes bright.
And I have to wonder when things changed. Or if it’s been like this for years, but I was buried too deep in my own guilt to look up and see for myself that everything is really, truly fine.
My chest aches at the thought, joy and sadness mingling together.
“I’m happy for you,” I tell Max. “Genuinely.”
