“Well,” Dom said. “I did just meet you.”
I blinked. I bit my lip to hide an inexplicable smile.
Layla came out a few minutes before the first fireworks exploded above our heads, and joined our little circle. I moved aside to let her in and tried not to dwell on the way she’d excluded me on the couch.
“Where’d you g-g-go?” she whispered to me. “Why’d you leave me?”
“Because…I didn’t know who the bands were you guys were talking about. I can’t sing, so I don’t know what mezzo-alto means or whatever. And no one was talking to me,” I whispered back.
“Mezzo-alto isn’t a thing,” Layla said. She sighed and pulled out her phone, like she was mad at me.
“Have you met Dom?” I asked her, to try to melt whatever was making her so icy, and when she shook her head and waved, I introduced them. Mason flicked Layla’s collar and made a funny face at her, but she just stayed quiet.
I took out my phone to text her, though she was right beside me. We did that sometimes.
You good? I sent.
She sent back a shrugging emoji.
Were those girls bitchy after I left? Do you want to leave?
No, they were nice.
So what’s wrong?
Layla typed. I watched the fireworks while I waited for her to text back.
Sometimes I just wish I didn’t stutter.
I just wish this wasn’t a thing I had to think about all the time.
Like I’m at a party, having fun, and I don’t want to have to think about this.
Did someone say something? It usually doesn’t bother you this much.
It’s just, a lot of new people, you know?
I guess?
Usually I was the one nervous around new people, not Layla.
You don’t get it.
I looked over at her. She was staring up at the fireworks, and the bursts of color were reflected almost perfectly in her wide, dark eyes.
We suck at parties, I sent, and Layla smiled at the message a little.
When I turned around, Dom was watching us.
He stepped a little closer and said, “You wanna see a magic trick?” I kind of frowned at him. But then Layla nodded and started watching his hands. We all did.
Dom pulled a coin out of his pocket and held it up in one of his hands for us to see. “I’m gonna make this disappear,” he said. Mason crossed his arms like he’d seen this a million times, but the rest of us were riveted. Then Dom rubbed his arms, I guess to point out to us that he didn’t have any sleeves, and when he opened the hand that was holding the coin, it was gone. He held up both hands next, and the coin wasn’t in either. I gasped and clapped.
Layla said, “How d-d-did you do that?” even though she’d been mostly quiet since she came out onto the roof.
Dom’s eyes got big like he was offended. “C’mon, girl. A magician never reveals his secrets,” he said.
“Magic?” I asked, after everyone else had gone back to watching the sky. But what I really meant was Thank you for making my friend less sad. Dom shrugged, like what he’d done wasn’t a big deal.
“You seemed to enjoy it,” he said. “Cleo of the ‘old-ass books and music.’ ” He paused and angled his body more toward mine. “Exactly how old is this old-ass music?”
I shook my head. “Mason’s an idiot. But he’s talking about the jazz-age stuff I listen to. Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holiday, Louis Armstrong—stuff like that. My grandmother used to play it all the time so it’s kind of comforting to me, I guess.”
Dom nodded and said, “My pop likes Nina Simone. You listen to her?” I nodded too, and he smiled his thousand-watt smile. I could see the design cut into his hair more clearly now that he was up close. It looked like the swirling blues in Van Gogh’s The Starry Night. As he stood there set against the real night sky, talking to me about music, something about him felt heavy with inevitability.
“Where’d you come from anyway?” I said, because I was almost certain he didn’t go to my school.
“I just moved here from Atlanta,” he said. “So I came from Georgia, I guess.” He must be the new guy Cadence and Melody were gossiping about earlier.
His eyes were full of something, but I didn’t know him well enough to say what. The night was young, and so were we, and everything else felt bright in the dark all around us. So I just smiled at him. This party had kind of sucked, but I felt happy to be under the same sky with Layla, watching fireworks on a warm summer night. I looped my arm through hers, holding her close. And as the night ended, it felt more like something new, just beginning.
now
EXITS AND ENTRANCES
I spend most of the weekend after the snowstorm in Daddy’s warm apartment. Since the divorce, I’m officially supposed to spend every other weekend with him, and I squeeze in a little more time whenever I can. We mostly sit around in our pajamas when I’m over, drinking hot beverages, talking about the books we’ve read recently, and listening to music. But this weekend is a little different.
On Saturday, I spend most of my waking hours planning new-memory-making strategies. When Daddy sees me making a long list of all the places that remind me of Layla, he says: “You can’t approach your whole life like it’s a homework assignment, Baby Girl.”
This is such a Daddy thing to say that I have no trouble ignoring it completely. “But I can, though,” I say, before turning back to his laptop, where I’m reading articles about friendship dissolution and typing out my list and watching videos about how to get over a breakup. “As a librarian,” I tell him without looking away from the screen, “you should value research as much as I do.” He just shakes his head and pours me more tea.
By Sunday afternoon, I feel poised and ready to overwrite some memories. I decide to head to Dolly’s—Layla’s and my favorite diner. We’d meet there every weekend, usually on Sundays, to finish up last-minute homework, so it seems like a fitting place to start. Sundays are always a little sad because I have school the next day, and for Daddy and me, because we both know we probably won’t see each other all week. Now that I don’t end my weekends with Layla at Dolly’s, they’re extra depressing.
“Wanna come with me?” I ask, but he doesn’t seem into the idea. “I don’t want to think about her every time I walk past that restaurant,” I tell him as I slip my arms into my coat.