I looked hard at my brother, taking in his exuberant smile, trying to keep the negative swirling in my stomach at bay. Then I realized something seemed … off. Grant had wandered away from the group and over toward a pillar, and his mannerisms were stiff and jerky. He looked almost nervous.
A little current seared in my stomach.
“Who’s he talking to?” I said, more to myself than my friends.
Maritza tapped an archery arrow on the steering wheel. “Probably Ryan, right? Or Brian? Whatever his doofy friend’s name is.”
“No,” I said, trying to make her understand, “it’s someone different. Look how he keeps touching his hair.”
Maritza and JaKory went still, watching closely. All three of us were silent. Then Maritza said, “Do you think he’s talking to a girl?”
I couldn’t answer. My breathing was pinched; my nerves were on edge.
“He’s moving again,” JaKory said.
Grant stepped into the white lights streaming down from the building. And then, as I’d known instinctively, a girl moved out from behind the pillar.
She was a skinny girl with braces and long, thick hair, and she was smiling at my little brother in a nervous, timid way. Grant was holding his arm to the side, nodding his head too much, and shifting his weight from one leg to the other.
“Holy shit,” Maritza said slowly. “He’s on a date.”
My whole body felt cold and contracted. It was like the universe was playing a joke on me, and I had unwittingly participated in the setup. While my friends and I were lamenting our lack of romantic experience in the basement, my little brother had conned us into driving him to a date. I knew Grant was growing up, that he had started caring about girls, that pictures and popularity were part of his currency now … and yet I’d never stopped to consider that he was truly becoming a Teenager, and that he might be doing a better job of it than me.
The girl said something. She looked self-conscious. Grant inched a step closer, brushing his hair out of his eyes.
“He’s gonna kiss her,” JaKory said breathlessly.
I wanted to look away, to hide my face in my hands and pretend this wasn’t happening, but I couldn’t.
Grant hovered. The moment went on too long, and then it was lost. Finally, the girl leaned in and hugged him. She kissed him hastily on the cheek, then spun around and hurried off toward a group of giggling girls, a secret grin on her face.
Grant stood frozen. He dropped his head back and took a deep breath.
I took a deep breath, too, and looked around at Maritza and JaKory. They met my eyes immediately, and it was clear all three of us were feeling the same thing. I had an awful, twisted sense of relief, like I’d just gotten borrowed time on a deadline I hadn’t realized was coming.
“Should we text him?” Maritza asked quietly.
Before I could answer, Grant looked our way. He watched us watching him, and his face froze.
“Shit,” I said. My own voice sounded strange.
Grant looked away, glaring. Then he steeled himself and walked toward us, his head down, his posture rigid. His friends were calling after him, but he ignored them. He opened the car door and slid into the back seat without a word.
I wanted to say something, to channel my dad and make a joke that would burst the tension, but I’d never known how to do that. Maritza turned up her music to cover the awkward silence, and we drove out of the theater lot without speaking.
When we reached the first stoplight, Maritza broke the silence.
“So … how was the movie?”
Grant shifted in his seat. “Stupid.”
I looked at my brother in the rearview mirror. He was slumped against the window, his cheek in his hand. The big sister in me wanted to comfort him, to offer my counsel like I had when we were younger, but I didn’t have the experience needed for this kind of advice.
“Grant,” Maritza said, in a would-be soothing voice, “we didn’t mean to see that happen—”
“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Grant snapped.
My nerves were on edge again. I willed Maritza to drop it, to let us go home and pretend like nothing had happened, but Maritza wasn’t the type to let things go.
“That girl obviously liked you,” she said. “I could tell by the way she was looking at you.”
Grant said nothing.
“I know it’s scary to make a move,” Maritza plowed on, “but you’ll get another—”
“Maritza,” I said loudly. “Do us all a favor and shut up.”
Maritza looked scandalized. The light turned green, and she jerked the car forward.
“Just trying to be helpful,” she spat, “considering his older sister isn’t saying anything—”
“He doesn’t need your help,” I said, my face flushing.
“Yeah, well, he definitely doesn’t need yours.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“All right, hold on,” JaKory said, spreading his arms between us. “Let’s just take a second. We’re all feeling a little vulnerable—”
“We’re fine,” Maritza barked.
“Maritza, stay in your lane—literally and figuratively. Codi, let it go. Grant’s fine. He doesn’t want anyone’s help, and that’s his prerogative.”
“I wouldn’t need y’all’s help anyway,” Grant huffed.
JaKory, offended now, threw up his hands and turned away toward the window.
Grant’s words stung. It took me a beat to catch my breath, but then I twisted around to glare at him, my heart rearing. “You shouldn’t need anyone’s help,” I said. “You’re too young to be worrying about this anyway.”
Grant glared back at me, not bothering to lift his head off the window. “I’m fourteen. Everyone my age is dating.”
“Yeah, well, they shouldn’t be.”
“You’re probably just saying that because you’ve never dated. I’ll bet you’ve never even kissed anyone, none of you have—”
My whole body burned.
“Shut up, Grant! Of course I’ve kissed someone, and even if I hadn’t, you can bet I’d never chicken out on it!”
“Fuck you, Codi!”
“HEY!” JaKory said, his voice booming. “Stop talking, all of you. Just stop.”
A loaded, searing silence swept through the car. I faced the windshield without seeing it, my insides burning. I was angry, I was hurt, and I was embarrassed, but more than anything, I hated myself and the limited world I’d been living in.
“You should put your seat belt on, Grant,” JaKory huffed.
Grant didn’t move. I wanted nothing more to do with him, but the big sister in me couldn’t let it go.
“Grant,” I said, my voice hard. “Seat belt.”
Still, Grant didn’t move.
“What is wrong with you?” I said, whipping around to look at him again. “Put your seat belt on! Now!”
The way Grant looked at me then—murderous and resentful—confirmed we were strangers like never before. That my little brother had grown into a popular, self-possessed, too-cool-for-you Teenager who didn’t need his dorky older sister for anything. He buckled his seat belt in one swift, angry motion, then dropped his forehead against the window and didn’t speak again. When Maritza pulled into our driveway a few minutes later, he raced out of the car without bothering to shut the door.