THE NEXT WEEK PASSED without any incident.

       Considering Aaron and I were now dating, we were exempted from the Kiss a stranger goal. 

       "But don't think you get a free pass from October," Cody warned. "Scaring the shit out of someone is going to be epic."

       "What do you have in mind?" I asked.

       Cody scoffed. All four of us were in Aaron's basement; Skylar swiveled around on a desk chair, waiting for her nail polish to dry, Cody laid upside down on the white couch, Aaron practiced pull-ups over the doorframe, and I was hunched over a stupid fucking math question.

       After you wake up, blinking your blue orbs and putting your brunette hair into a messy bun, your mom comes into the room and tells you she sold you to Harry Styles. What is the cost of Satan's soul and how many celery sticks can you eat without throwing up?

       "Like I'm going to tell you!" Cody's face had reddened, probably thanks to the blood rush of hanging upside-down. "No, no, you're going to find out. When you're scared shitless."

       "You're bluffing," I said.

       Skylar rolled her eyes skyward, swiping her toenail with a stroke of black polish. "Tal, let's be honest here. We all know who sleeps with the light on after she watches a horror movie."

      "Okay, I was ten."

      "What about when we watched Saw III this past summer?"

      "Come on, that'd give anyone nightmares."

      "And Escape Room?  That wasn't even scary, and you still refused to leave my side all night."

      "Scary is subjective," I argued. "All those people were getting killed one by one!"

       "You refused to let go of my hand even to go to the bathroom."

       "I'm not going to be the idiot who breaks off from the group. That's the person who always gets killed first."

       "Talia, we don't live in a horror movie."

       "And," Cody added, "it's the diverse character who always gets killed first. That's basically movie law."

       "Okay, so I'd be the idiot who got killed second," I said. "I still don't want to get killed! And you never know what psychopath in a chain mask is hiding in the closet with an axe."

       "I was in the closet for fifteen years," Cody said. "I never saw a psychopath in a chain mask."

       Skylar snickered. "Well, I was in the closet with you. Maybe I'm secretly the psychopath."

       "I hate both of you," I said. Glancing at Aaron―who was still doing push-ups, veins roping his forearms―I added, "Aaron, back me up!"

       "Yeah, lover boy, back her up," Cody said.

       "You know what? I've had enough of this slander." I stood up, setting down my broken pencil. "I'm going to get you back for this, Cody Marcus Beckham. I vow to scare the shit out of you and Skylar Janice Tori."

       Aaron whistled, exhaling heavily as he dropped down from the frame. "She just pulled out the middle names. It's serious." 

       "Damn right it's serious," I said. "I'm going to scare all of you motherfuckers. That's right."

       "Whatever you say, Talia," Cody teased. "But I'm sure you'll end up scaring yourself most in the process."

        ON THURSDAY NIGHT, I SAT down on the barstool in the kitchen. Mom was rolling slices of chicken breast in breadcrumbs, and Dad snored on the couch, the TV playing something from the news.

        I was pretty sure there was a new episode of The 100, but as soon as I reached for the remote, Dad grunted and said, "I'm watching that!"

       "You were sleeping,"  I said.

       "There's food ready," Mom interrupted. "Come and get some baby potatoes."

       Claudia came rushing down the stairs, skidding towards the table in rainbow-striped socks.

       "How'd you even hear that?" I asked her.

       She shrugged. "I have a sixth sense for potatoes."

       Once the tray of crisp, seasoned baby potatoes was set down, Mom and Dad took their places on the opposite side of the table from Claudia and I. The chicken was still baking in the oven―it'd be ready in ten minutes.

       Which was exactly the amount of time it would take for the conversation to go to hell.

       Dad loosened his tie. "How was your day, Talia? Claudia?"

       "Fine," I said. "I had band practice, but we still can't think of a name. What do you think of Rubber Duck Domination?"

       "Terrible," Claudia answered. "And my day sucked. I tried out for the soccer team a couple of weeks ago, but they posted the list today and I didn't get in. I mean, I know I'm pretty bad, but still. That hurt a little."

       "Hey, you aren't really that bad," I said. "Maybe if you kept practicing . . . don't they have auditions again in the spring?"

       "Yeah." Claudia stabbed a potato with her fork. "Maybe I'll try again. I don't know who to practice with, though."

       Mom looked at me pointedly and coughed.

       I raised my hands, palms up. "No way. I suck. But maybe ask―I don't know, Skylar?" 

       "Skylar's only on the cheerleading team. Besides, she doesn't like me enough to teach me."

       "Maybe I could ask her?"

       "No way. She's way too cool. I don't want to suck in front of her."

        Dad clearly had no idea how to navigate this conversation, so he cleared his throat. "Celia?" he asked Mom. "How was your day?"

        "Oh, thanks for asking, honey. Selena screwed up the damn files again, and I had to listen to some client yell at me over the phone for twenty minutes. So not great, but seeing my babies made it better."

       Claudia made a face. "That's so cheesy, Mom."

      "What? It's true! And don't be rude, Clauds. I put you into this world, I can take you back out."

      "Mom," I said. "I think the word you're looking for is first-degree murder."

      "No, dear," she said. "I'd convince the jury it's just a crime of opportunity."

      "Thanks. That was scarring." Claudia blew on her potato and took a bite. "Dad, how was your day?"

      He shrugged. "Not interesting. Just a bunch of tax forms and deadlines and . . . oh, you know what, honey? I just remembered something. Bill―you know Bill, with the vacation home in Prague―was telling me about his kid, how he came out as gay. Poor guy."

      Mom made a sympathetic face, but I asked, "Why poor guy?" 

      Dad said, "Well, I support LGBT rights―or whatever they're calling it nowadays―and other people can do what they like. Not my business. But I feel sorry for Bill. I know I wouldn't want one of my kids to be gay."

      All I could think to answer with was, "Oh."

      For some reason, I couldn't help but look at Claudia. And if I could see myself right then, I imagined I'd look a lot like that―like I'd just been gutted.

      "Can I be excused, please?"

      "Of course, baby," Mom said, setting down her napkin. "But why—?"

      "I feel sick," I said, and without waiting for an answer, I scraped back my chair and ran.

      I didn't expect Claudia to follow me. When I got to my room, closing the door behind me, I wasn't entirely sure why there was heat flushing my cheeks. Why I felt so nauseous.

      "Talia?" A soft knock on the door.

      "Come in!" I called, hastily scrubbing at my face. I could have sworn there were tears pricking my eyes.

      That was dramatic, wasn't it? I didn't even know why I was so upset.

      Claudia opened the door and crept in, almost unsure of herself. Sitting on the bed, I think I saw it, too: the red cheeks, the gloss of her eyes, the tremble of her lips.

      But then she smiled, the expression of hurt dissolving, and I wondered if I'd been hallucinating.

      "Tal, did you see the new episode of The 100?"  she asked.

      A distraction, I knew. And I had never been so grateful.

      "No, not yet. It's the one after Clarke and Maddie got introduced, right? Isn't it called Red Queen?"

      "I haven't watched it yet, but Thea told me it's about Octavia."

      I had no idea who Thea was, but I groaned. "I mean, I like Octavia, but not enough to watch a whole episode on her."

      "Octavia beats Lexa any day."

      "That was a cheap shot. You know Lexa is my favourite character."

      "Oh, yeah? I'm curious. Why is that?"

      There were probably a hundred good reasons why Lexa was an excellent favourite character. I just couldn't think of any of them.

      "Um. She's―" The first word that popped into my mind was hot. But that was ridiculous. "I don't know! I don't grill you on why you like Octavia!"

       "Sure thing, Tal. You just keep telling yourself that. Whatever floats your boat." And Claudia hummed, satisfied, as if she'd just won a battle.

       "Whatever," I said, letting out a breath. Not entirely sure why it felt like I'd somehow given away a secret.

       THAT NIGHT, AARON KNOCKED on my window.

       "What are you doing?" I hissed, sliding up the glass. "It's past one in the morning. Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?"

       "Couldn't," he said simply.

       I had to tutor Monroe early in the morning, but I didn't tell him. He was more important than the fact that I'd be a little tired tomorrow. 

       "What's wrong?"

       "Just thinking about college. Where we'll end up. Do you . . ." He smoothed his fingers through his curls. In the moonlight, he looked as if he'd been carved from marble and ivory, a classical sculpture. "Do you know? Where you want to go?"

        I hadn't really thought that far ahead, but . . . "NYU, I hope. Maybe Colombia. Or Cornell. One of the Ivy Leagues close to home."

        Aaron didn't say anything, not for a while. 

        "I want to go far away," he whispered at last.

       "Far away? Why?"

       "I can't do it," he said. "I can't stay here. This small town shit. I don't want it. I want to―to explore, you know? To be more than just this. A stupid high school jock."

        And then I understood. "You don't want to be like your dad."

        "He's great, you know? He's a great guy and I love him. But I don't want to end up like him. Still here, thirty years after graduating. Trying to relive the dream of being the football captain. I . . ."

         "Don't want to peak in high school."

         "Yeah," he said, and he smiled at me gratefully. "I just don't want this to be all there is, you know? I don't want high school to be the best part of my fucking life. I want more than that."

         "I get it," I said, leaning my head on his shoulder. "So you want to travel the world?"

         "I think I'd go to Peru first. Then Turkey. I want to see the Berlin Wall, and that pink lake in Australia. Do you how much of the fucking world there is? It's just―God. I want to see all of it. Everything."

        Softly, teasingly, I asked, "Can I come?"

        His eyes locked on mine. "I don't think I'd want to travel the world with anyone else."

        I grinned, and he folded me into his arms. We didn't kiss, didn't do anything more than hug. But it was the perfect fit, my body snug against his chest. If platonic soulmates were real, he'd be mine.

       Later that night, once he'd crawled back out the window, I realized exactly what was wrong with that thought.

       I'd used the word platonic.

       I couldn't sleep after that. Instead, my elbows on the window sill, I gazed out into the dark, starry night. Across the street, I could see what I knew now was Monroe's room.

       What is she dreaming of?  I wondered.

       Then a light clicked on. A lamp. And I saw the slim shadow of her figure, moving towards the curtain.

       When I realized she was opening her window, I ducked down so fast I hit my head against the desk. A handful of broken pencils rolled onto the floor.

       Could she see me?

       Slowly, after a few minutes, I held my breath and lifted myself up until I could peer over the window sill.

       She wasn't there anymore.

       I scrambled back to my feet, abandoning the window entirely, and raced into the hallway―towards Claudia's room.

       In hindsight, I definitely should have knocked.

       She was still awake―Thank God, I thought―and she was on her stomach, laying on the bed. In front of her, I saw the blue-white glare of her laptop screen.

       I didn't think she had heard me come in, so I moved closer, ready to tap on her shoulder―until I realized what she was looking at.

       She was reading.

       I was close enough now that I could make out the words: Dakota's fingers drifted between Cara's legs. When she found the slick heat there, she smiled with pure, wicked delight. "You're so wet for me, baby," she said. 

       I must have made a surprised sound, because Claudia turned around.

      At the same time she shrieked, "Talia, you're spying on me?"  I blurted out, "Claudia, you're gay?"

***

Did y'all see this one coming?

Also, why. Why is physics a thing. Because I'd like to sue Galileo.

From the moon and back,
Sarai