Copyright © 2016. All Rights Reserved.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: PRE-SOPHOMORE YEAR

D A T E : August 2012

✖ how to act ✖

"Oh, c'mon, you can do better than that. Look like your horrified—no, that's too cartoonish." I groaned from behind the camera, which elicited a laugh from Landon, who had his fake knife all up in Lizzie's face. She had the most ridiculous expression on, like one of those contrasting theatre masks, except with red face paint swiped across her eyes.

"I'm doing the best I can, 'ight?" she said exasperatedly, slackening up to take a break before propping herself up onto her elbow again, preparing herself for the retake.

From behind me, Joni shouted, "Landon has a knife to your throat, look like he's actually going to hurt you!" At that point, Lizzie started screaming like a madwoman, scrambling backwards across the grass as Landon came at her. She went for the stick prop, and when she swung it out at him, it actually hit him in the side and he buckled with a weak, "Owie, that hurt..."

"Landon! That was perfect and you ruined it!" I whined, stomping my foot when Joni jumped in and demanded to see the footage.

"Yeah, but she wasn't supposed to actually hit me," Landon complained, but we were too busy replaying the cut. Joni declared that we could stop it just before Landon buckled, so it looked like it was completely planned.

"Pain is gain, my friend," Lizzie said, giving us a cheeky grin while Landon rolled his eyes. I took position in another area so I could get a separate shot of Landon collapsing, at which point Lizzie recovered and wrestled the knife out of Landon's grasp.

As the final scene resolved at the click of the recording button a few minutes later, we all gathered around to view the untrimmed product in all it's raw glory, jumping from bloopers wrecked with laughter, and replaying all the goofy, gory parts when Joni went a little too crazy with the pint of fake blood. We high-fived one another when it was all said and done before we decided to hightail it out of the forest—there were impending storm clouds on the horizon anyway.

We broke through the trees of my backyard and headed towards the deck where Puck made his bed with his paws dangling over the top step. When he saw us, he let out a low, bellowing bark and started to stand up to greet us. Lizzie cooed and raced over to meet him, scratching his chest and under his ears. He swiped his tongue across her nose.

"Geez, your dog has bad breath," she complained, waving her hand in front of her nose. A second later, she was swiping away the saliva on her face.

"I know. We can't exactly brush his teeth—he chews on the bristles," I explained, scratching Puck on the head on my way to the patio. Inside, Lizzie and Landon marched inside to get cleaned up while Joni and I headed upstairs to charge the camera and upload the video clips onto my computer. When we passed the study on our way to the stairs, I saw Mom at her desk with Lucas standing behind her, leaning over her chair to view the computer screen. They must've heard us, because Mom looked up and started waving me over.

"Skye! Come here for a second, I have to show you something," she called to me. I glanced at Joni, who then took the camera from me and said she'd start everything up while I took care of business with Mom.

I padded across the carpeting of the study and approached the desk. It didn't surprise me what they had up on the screen—it was something I'd already seen. "I know, I watched it already."

Lucas made a face like, "I told you so!" but Mom only rolled her eyes and ushered me over anyway, clasping me by my shoulders and steering me towards the desk. "Oh, come on. Don't give me that sass," she jested, nuzzling the side of my face. I returned her eye roll then, only because she was asking for it. Pushing her away, I stayed close to listen in on the vlog, which recorded Fynn's day in the family car, hopping out of the back seat, and panning over the brilliant expanse of stone buildings stretching high over their heads. As Fynn steered the camera back towards the ground, Parker's face came into view, wearing a pair of sunglasses and a childlike grin etched on his cheeks.

Parker's move-in date arrived, which meant he was officially a student attending the University of Oxford.

I was a bit jealous, but not jealous enough to try my luck at getting in anyway. It'd be a miracle if I ever got into an Ivy League. I was jealous because he had a life I couldn't dream of having, let alone living. I imagined I'd be a perpetual follower, probably scope the field of colleges my friends chose, and pick one from there. Nearly all of them would stick around home, though. If any of them had ambition to reach beyond the Wisconsin border, I liked to think it was Joni.

Besides, she was smarter, crazier, and more brilliant than any of us. Her parents set her up for success since day one of tutoring, teaching her to read as soon as she could pick up a book, and having resources stashed up their sleeves. Her mom was one of Port High School's English teachers, anyway.

Mom exclaimed that she had to call Mrs. Walter before the sun set in England, so while she fetched her phone, Lucas closed the tab and opened up his mailbox. Taking this as the signal to leave, I hightailed it out of their office and up the stairs where I could already hear Lizzie squealing and Landon's laughter coming from my room.

Goodness sakes, did that make me nervous or what? Any person in their right mind would be terrified of Lizzie and Landon having a laugh at God knows what. For all I knew they were—

They didn't.

"Oh hey, Skye, just havin' a little cool down with your dog," Landon boasted from the floor, one arm slung over Puck's back and the other resting on his hip like he was about ready for a photoshoot. He pointed to Puck's head and said, "I dunno, I kinda like this new look."

They'd gone and ravaged through my closet—whoever had the talent to make such a mess within two minutes clearly needed to be under constant surveillance. They clipped one of my bras over Puck's head so it looked like he had misplaced earmuffs on. I wanted to laugh but at the same time it was embarrassing to have them riffling through my "delicates".

"Oh my gosh you're tormenting him!" I whined, keeping a smile on my face as I knelt down and unclipped my bra from Puck's head. They had the shoulder straps hooked under his ears and he looked completely content sitting their with a A-B-cups cushioned on his ears. He panted at me and wagged his tail as I freed him from the ridiculous hat they put on him.

Lizzie was breaking down in giggles on my bed, and Joni was at my desk rolling her eyes as she waited for the video clips to upload onto my computer. I ordered Landon and Lizzie to help clean up the mess, and so we got to work hanging up my clothes—yet again—and stuffing my delicates into the cubbies on the floor. Lizzie was still giggling the whole time and whenever she was giddy, so was Landon.

It all got ten-times worse when Landon said, "I mean, I get that I'm a guy so I don't really have a say in this—but you have a classy selection of underwear."

"Landon!" both Joni and I shrieked while Lizzie howled with laughter.

"No really! I mean, I always thought lace would look slutty but... I mean, look at it!"

By that point I was a complete and utter tomato as I snatched the underwear back from him and threw it in the cubby. "Next time I'm at your house I'm gonna find your boxers and briefs and it'll be a field day," I threatened, at which point he paled and quickly blurted out, "No way José! Not on my watch!"

Joni started rattling off threats, like how we'd tie him up and make him wear his boxers on his head, and take plenty of pictures. He moaned and fell back on the floor, shouting, "I'm sorry I ever put a bra on your head, Puck! Lizzie made me do it!" It was all good and fun, and we were all dying on the floor laughing when the laptop dinged—twice. The first was signaling the imported files, and the second was from my Facebook tab.

"Ooh, guess who-o!" Joni sang, loud enough for Mom and Lucas to hear if she didn't shut up. "It's Beanie Baby!"

"No way! Uh-uh, lemme see what'd he say?!" Lizzie squealed, battling me to the computer first and leaving me in the dust.

"Hey, invasion of privacy! Invasion of privacy!" I shouted, waving my hands and frantically looking between their shoulders and heads to get a look at what kind of madness Joni was doing. Since the events at Homecoming freshmen year, Kole and I were on messaging terms again. Mostly it was just desultory topics—what bands we were listening to, what books we were reading, how far he'd gotten in such-and-such a game.

Thank goodness his message was just as desultory as the others, and Joni sighed when she realized there was no analyzing when it came to telling me he'd finished the latest quest in his game.

"You win this time, Skye, but I'm not giving up," Joni announced as she quit the Facebook window and opened up our video editing program. "Now, back to business."

After spending two hours on the video footage, we produced our final cut and scheduled it to upload onto YouTube the following week. We all high-fived one another before Lizzie announced that she had to get back home in time for the next Dancing With The Stars episode. It was a show her and her mom obsessed over every week, so we all said our goodbyes to her.

Eventually, I was on my own again when the sun fell and evening settled in. Landon and Joni left, waving goodbye to Mom and Lucas where they moved into the living room, watching their latest show. When my friends were gone, I glanced up the stairs back to where the light in my room shone through, and caught on Puck's fur as he slumped towards the stairs.

"How was your day?" Mom called to me from the living room. When I turned away from the stairs, Puck started to come down, and I figured it was no use making him go back up just so he could follow me around.

I walked into the living room and saw Mom sitting on the recliner with a book on her lap, and Lucas lounging on the couch, his eyes fixated on the TV until I came in. I realized I hadn't given them an answer, so I said, "It was good."

"Did you get a lot done?" Mom continued to pester, so I sat on the other end of the couch and observed the TV screen. It wasn't Dancing With The Stars, but I preferred this over celebrities tangoing.

"Yeah, we finished the movie."

"How are Joni and Landon?"

"Fine." My blunt answer seemed to be enough to satisfy her that she'd made the effort to show interest in my day. "Did you call Laura?" Laura was Fynn's mom's name.

A hint of a smile shone on her face as she rested her elbow on the arm of the recliner and settled her fingertips on her cheek. She looked mischievous, so I couldn't imagine what she was thinking. "I did. It sounds like Parker's doing nicely at Oxford."

"I'd imagine so. The place is like a castle," I muttered, which gave Lucas a laugh. "How's his dorm? His classes?"

"All fine. But you know what's really interesting?" she said, and I shrugged—how was I supposed to know what she was talking about anyhow? "With Parker gone from the house, Laura's thinking of taking a trip to the states."

"Really?" I gasped, bolting up in my seat. "You're kidding!"

"I'm not," she answered with a laugh. Lucas had that stupid grin on his face, meaning he'd already heard all about it. "They're going to the west coast probably this winter over Fynn's break."

"They? Who do you mean they?" I pressed, excitement gripping me in a furious frenzy. I was practically shaking.

"Just Laura and Fynn. They were thinking California—they'd never been there when they lived here," she told me, but I just wanted her to skip to the exciting part.

"Well, if they're coming here, they'll have to stop here! They can't, just, not visit us, right?" I blurted out.

Mom laughed and shook her head. "Laura thinks their plane is stopping in Chicago on the way to California. We'll probably drive down there if they do, spend a night or two with them in the city." She could tell that I was getting overexcited and worked up about it so she decided to douse my fire a little by saying, "It's not a for-sure thing because Laura still has to figure out her work schedule."

I didn't care. I wanted to do one of those Irish-leprechaun heel-clicks, maybe do a twirl in the air and summon rainbows from the sky over the Port Bergen docks. That night I was too stoked to sleep because as soon as my conversation with Mom and Lucas was over, I booked it upstairs and twirled into my office chair, and caught myself on the desk to keep from tumbling over. I pulled up the last conversation Fynn and I had, and wrote, all caps included, "WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME YOU'RE COMING TO THE US".

I waited, twisting my earlobe around in my fingers. He was online, so he had to the respond quickly—he had to! The "Seen" checkmark flickered on, and in a matter of seconds the three loading dots ticked away.

FYNN: I don't know if we're actually going yet

Mom had tried to tell me that, but I was certain it was going to be a for-sure, 100% deal. So I messaged back, Don't give me that crap. When are you coming?

I bet he was rolling his eyes. Maybe if he was actually here, I could have smacked him upside the head, but he was quick to reply back.

FYNN: On school holiday.

FYNN: Like, December 22nd.

After that I brought up meeting him and his mom in Chicago, and all the activities we could do. There was an incredible museum—not to mention the aquarium, the Christkindlmarket. It was like I was spending Christmas with my old best friend again, and I couldn't have been more exhilarated.

It wasn't until the clock ticked towards midnight that I put my effort into sleeping rather than thinking about seeing Fynn and his mom again. I pushed my phone onto my windowsill and nestled my head against my pillow, my eyes turning up fleetingly to the windowpane and the sky lacking stars, and the reflection of my room catching on the glass, masked in a filter of moonlit blue.

After adjusting my legs to accommodate Puck's place on the mattress, I shut my eyes and counted to sixty with each intake of breath. By the time I even reached fifty, I was out cold, but still restlessly eager for Christmas' arrival.