Marley goes without offering a word to me, leaving a thick silence in the store.
“What was that about?” I drop my lunch bag behind the cash desk and stare at him.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Finn, I’m going to give you some advice that you gave to me not that long ago.” I square my shoulders. “You should not talk to your mother like that.”
“She wants me to wear this while I work!” He holds up a slim, black backpack. I don’t understand until I see the tubing coming from a slit in the top. Oxygen.
“Do you need it?”
He glowers at me. I suppose I can take that as an unhappy yes.
Trying to be softer, I step over to him and reach a hand out to his arm. “Finn, she just loves you so much.”
His jaw clenches. “Too much.” He swallows. “She won’t accept what is.”
Knots form in my stomach, but I try to keep cool. “And what’s that?”
“Death,” he barks.
I push down my fear and my pity. “Death is inevitable. But I’ve been praying,” I say, because I have ,and somehow it makes me feel a little stronger, “so you’re getting a heart.”
“Because God listens to Esther Ray?” He smirks, and it’s close enough to a smile to keep me going.
“My aunt said He did. I never really had anything to pray for until now.” I shrug like it could go either way. “But Lisa was pretty reliable.”
“Yeah, well the funny thing about spending so much time in hospitals is you meet a lot of people. Some live. Some die. But Esther, they’re all praying.”
My coolness is wearing off. “Okay, so maybe you’ll die.” Ouch. The words pain me, but Finn doesn’t even flinch. “Is that really the last thing you want your mom to hear from you? Take it from someone who didn’t get a goodbye—it’s not.”
“She won’t miss me as much, that’s for sure.”
“Is that why you do it?” I drop my hand from his shoulder and cross my arms. “Because that’s terrible.”
“I do it because I’m angry.” He swipes the beany from his head and throws it on the ground. “I’m just pissed, all the time. Okay?” He starts up the stairs, but his fuming exit stops when he stumbles up, his chest heaving with not enough air.
“Finn!” I start toward him, but he holds out a hand to stop me. Still, he can’t quite make it up the rest. He sits, halfway up the staircase and pulls on the cannula from the portable machine Marley asked him to wear. It beeps as he turns it on and wraps the tubing around his ears.
After a few breaths, he’s breathing a little easier. The bag sits on the stair below him, between his legs, and his knees rest on his elbows as he stares down at the thing.
I dare to inch a few steps closer, and finally I’m sitting next to him on the stairs. My heart beats rapidly at our closeness and I wish my dumb dreams would tell me what to do in situations like this. I tip my head onto his shoulder and pray in my mind.
I don’t want to lose him too.
Hours later, we sit on the floor behind the register, ripping into boxes of books Marley ordered. The oxygen pack sits on Finn’s back, the cannula in his nose and the tubing around his ears. But really, after a while, it disappears and I just see him.
“You know what I think we should do?” I pull out another book, another first addition that Marley managed to get her hands on.
“Huh?” Finn studies the books in front of him.
“I think we should paint your bedroom.”
He doesn’t look totally opposed to the suggestion, but surprised for sure. “Why?”
“It’s so dark and gloomy up there, Finn.”
His brows pinch together as he looks at me, confused.
“It’s the same color as that dumb hat of yours.”
“I love this hat.” He snatches the hat from the cupboards under the register.
It’s a limp rag in his hands and I can’t help myself. I snatch it away and hold it as far as my short arms will allow. “I hate this hat.”
“Hey!” he yells, reaching across me for the beany.
My range is nothing for him and he’s faster than I think he should be as he seizes the hat from my hand. His opposite arm has gathered around my back in the process. I reach for the beany and his arm around me tightens.
His face is close to mine and all I see are his eyes and his lips, all I smell are the books and Finn—like a crisp summer’s day.
The door to the store jingles and I have to physically hold in my groan. Finn jams the beany onto his head before standing to see who’s here.
“Hey, bro.” It’s James.
I stand, feeling flushed, but I’m pretty sure it isn’t visible.
Ursula smiles at me, but glances to Finn talking to James. “You should call me sometime. We could hang out.”
“Okay,” I say, because I shouldn’t be tossing away any girl who may want to be my friend.
Her gaze falls on Finn. “Whoa. Finn, are you okay?”
I had all but forgotten about the oxygen tank strapped to his back and the tubing around his ears and in his nostrils. To James’ credit, he didn’t seem to notice either.
“He’s fine,” I say, hurrying to the other side of the register.
Ursula’s eyes narrow and she waves for me to follow her. “Are you guys a thing?” she asks when we’re a few feet down the third row of books.
“What? No.” But I say it too quickly.
She tilts her head. “Well, it sounds like he has a thing for you.”
I bite my bottom lip. “I do like him,” I say softer. Every fiber of my being says this isn’t her business, and yet something inside of me doesn’t want to shove her away like I have so many times and to so many people. “Is that weird?”
Her face softens and it surprises me. “No. Believe it or not, I once liked Finn—a long time ago. Before Dominic asked me out.”
It wasn’t that long ago and it was pretty obvious, but I don’t say any of that. I don’t really trust myself to say anything. So, I offer what I hope appears to be a stunned face.
With slow steps, and Ursula still studying me, we make our way back toward the front.
“Esther, didn’t you say you play soccer?” James holds out a piece of paper toward me, though Ursula and I are still a few steps away. “Tryouts are next month. I didn’t want you to miss it, so I grabbed this for you.”
“Oh,” I say. “Thanks.” When we’re close enough I grab the flyer from his hand.
“Will you try out?” Ursula asks.
“Um, I don’t know.” I feel their eyes on me, but the only gaze I care about is Finn’s. “My aunt said I could go home after the summer if I wanted. So, I’m not sure I’ll be here for school.”
“When will you know?” James’ face falls a little.
“I get to decide. I just haven’t yet.” But hadn’t I?
James shifts his gaze toward Finn who watches me. “I guess we’ll have to make sure she wants to stay,” Finn says.
The next morning Summer and I drive to Sherwin-Williams to find paint for Angelo and Brayden’s room. I ask her to take a side route and drive by The Pavilion. “Have you been there?” I ask her.