American Girl On Saturn (12 page)

He glances over at me and pulls himself away from studying my dull life on the metal slate. He makes himself comfortable at the foot of my bed, a fair distance from me in case we’re seen, and looks around again before speaking.

“I owe you an apology,” he says. “For the last few days. For how I’ve acted. I just…I didn’t know how to handle it.”

And there it is – the admittance that he couldn’t handle the mistaken nudity incident. I wonder if that could be filed under ‘wardrobe malfunction.’ Probably not. There wasn’t much of a wardrobe there to malfunction. Mistaken nudity is more fitting.

He sighs. “I was embarrassed, to say the very least. The whole thing just gave the wrong impression, and I’d never–”

“It’s okay,” I say, completely chopping his apology in half. “I already know. And Noah’s been defending you since it happened, not that I needed him to tell me, but he’s definitely defended your honor.”

Speaking of…I feel my eyes widen instantly, and I open my mouth to thank him for this morning, but he clues in before I say the words.

“Don’t,” he says. “You’re welcome, but you don’t have to thank me. I was just trying to do the right thing.”

“By letting my mom lecture you about lung cancer and ruining your perfect voice?” I ask.

He laughs. “She never said my voice was perfect. I couldn’t let you take the fall for it, though. And Jules will pay dearly. I’m not sure how or when, but he will. I’ll see to it.”

A million thoughts skyrocket through my mind. I want to know that we
’re okay, like really okay and not just okay in the sense of we’re moving past it. I want to know that maybe he’s still interested, and maybe we’ll still have late nights where we sneak outside and play twenty questions or split Oreos in half. I feel like I’m living in the daydream of every girl across the globe. Except it’s real. And when things get real, they get scary – at least when a beautiful boy from Spaceships Around Saturn is involved.

Oxygen rushes into my lungs, and I steady myself to begin asking questions. I decide to begin by asking if we
’re good now, but Mom’s head pokes in my doorway before I say the first word. She smiles, and I wonder if she even realizes I have a gorgeous, fully-dressed boy at the end of my bed.

“I’m glad I found you guys,” she says. “You two were the very ones I was looking for. I need to have a talk with you...both.”

I don’t move a fiber of my body as Mom walks across my bedroom. I don’t even breathe. My brain gets all fuzzy, and I feel dizzy. What does she want to talk to Milo and me about? Why not me then Milo? Why
us
?

It has to be about what happened. She doesn’t want us to be alone together because
Milo struts his towel around in my bedroom, and Emery gets the wrong impression, and we’re untrustworthy and slutty and made a mess of lockdown.

She folds her hands together in front of her and paces in front of my bed.
Just spit it out, Mom. Tell us that you can’t trust us to be alone together.

“My craft class is this afternoon,” she says instead. “Your dad said I needed to keep up a normal schedule, but you know I can’t take Emery out. It’s way too soon.”

Okay, maybe this isn’t about the towel or about trust issues. But what does babysitting Emery have to do with Milo?

“Godfrey is running some errands for me, and it’ll be a while before he’s back, so I’m
gonna have to leave all of you here…unsupervised.” She frowns one of those worried frowns.

I actually feel horribly for my mom. Every time she speaks to me, she has this sad face and sad eyes, and she speaks in that heartbroken-daughter voice. She probably hates having to come talk to me. She
automatically goes into gloom mode, sheltering the little baby bird as much as possible because she thinks I’m too fragile to fly.

“Emery will be fine,” I say. “She stays here all the time with Aralie and me.”

Mom sighs. “I know. It’s just with the lockdown, I feel like I need to be here. I don’t want the house to catch on fire or something bad to happen,” she says. “That’s why I’m leaving the two of you in charge.”

Milo’s eyes widen, and he looks as confused as I feel. An hour ago, Mom was lecturing us about cigarettes – individually. Now she’s leaving us in charge – together.

“Look,” Mom says, using that ‘straight to the point’ voice. “You’re the only one of the guys who has shown any real sense of maturity, and as a mom, I pick up on these things. You two are the oldest and most mature. Therefore, I trust leaving you two in charge.”

Wow. Here I was thinking she was coming to tell us the very opposite.

“Um, Mom, all of the guys are older than me,” I remind her.

“You’re the oldest of the girls,” she counters. “I just need you two to keep this place intact for me. Don’t let Aralie and Jules kill each other. Don’t let Emery torture Benji. You know, the usual.”

I love how our “usual” household behavior has turned into separating Aralie and Jules and saving Benji from fangirlisms. What did we do before the guys of Spaceships Around Saturn showed up? And worse – what will we do after they leave?

A moment later, Mom goes to announce to the rest of the household that she’s leaving us in charge while she attends her crafting class.
Milo falls back on my bed and looks over at me.

“I thought she was about to say something about us being alone together,” he says, voicing the same fear I’d had just minutes ago.

I agree, but new fears creep up in my mind. There’s no way Milo and I can control my Earth sisters and his Saturn brothers. We’re a monarchy that will quickly be overthrown. But when I think of it that way, it’s not so bad. At least I’d be the queen to his king.

Fifteen minutes after Mom leaves, the house still stands. Jules and Aralie are still breathing. I don’t think Emery has asked Benji a single question in at least the last seven minutes. We may pull this off after all. Milo goes to find the Oreos while I wait in my bedroom for his return.

“I’m
borrrrrred,” Tate says, dragging himself down the hallway like a zombie with a limp leg that has to be hauled behind him.

“And I’m Twitter-deprived, so shut up,” Benji calls out afterward.

I watch for the pretty blonde-haired boy to heave past my door next, but he doesn’t follow. Emery probably grabbed him and locked him away in her bedroom for more Q&A sessions about whether he likes salt on his watermelon and if her pink beads are prettier than her purple beads.

I rush into the hallway to search for Benji, but I find him immediately. He stands in Aralie’s doorway, which is a first. She’s usually hanging out with Tate or throwing things at Jules.

“You’ll have to ask Chloe for magnets,” Aralie says. “Maybe she can make some of the little Twitter bird for you.”

Benji looks up at me and
beams.

“Your sister gave me note cards,” he says.

No one should ever smile that big over note cards. He waves the stack of neon-colored cards at me, and his eyes dance around with his silly smile. He’s been around Emery too long. There may not be any saving him at this point.

Aralie meets me at her doorway.

“It’s for his Twitter withdrawals,” she explains. “I told him he could use these, stick them on the fridge, and we’d reply to him. So you have to reply.”

“Don’t worry,” I say. “I know all about At Benji Underscore Baccarini. I’m fully aware of the crap he tweets. I have plenty of smartass replies ready for him.”

I wait for Benji to shoot me one of those evil-eye glares that are classic of Team Jenji, but he doesn’t. Instead, he laughs.

“Remind me to follow you on Twitter when this lockdown is over,” he says. “I’ll tweet to you all the time.”

Before I can think up some witty comeback, footsteps close in on me at supersonic speed. Tate’s arms sling around me, encasing me in his grasp, and he stumbles around trying to regain his balance, zigzagging me along with him.

“I’m bored,
Chloooooeeee,” he whines.

Tate lets me go, but his shoulders slump in this pathetic attempt at depression. I attempt an apology for his boredom, but it doesn’t do any good. He just gives me sad eyes and a pity face.

Then his face lights up like a firefly.

“Let’s play a game,” he suggests.

A smile wraps from ear to ear on his face, and he looks twelve years old instead of eighteen. He looks the youngest of the guys. His hair is always a mess, and his bangs fall in his eyes. He sort of reminds me of an anime character because you rarely see his eyes, and he always smiles far too happily for anyone else’s liking.

“No,” I say. “The last time we played a game,
Milo cheated. I can’t stand for that.”

“Are you still mad about that?”

I spin around, and Milo walks toward me with the pack of Oreos in his hand.

“Because, if you are,” he says, circling around me. “I’ll admit that I cheated. Okay? I cheated. You should’ve won. Noah can even vouch that I cheated.”

I glance around at Tate, Aralie, and Benji. Where is Noah? Oh God – where is Emery?

“Where’s Emery?” I ask, directing the question more to
Milo than anyone else because he’s the only one who’ll probably bother to calm me down.

“With Noah,” he says. “And Jules. They’re downstairs watching one of the Toy Story movies on DVD.”

It’s a good thing Mom left Milo in charge. I’m failing at this whole mature, older sister thing. I should know where Emery is, not that Tate is bored and Benji misses Twitter.

Tate bounces around me.

“I’m gonna go get them,” he says. “We’re going to play hide-and-seek…in the dark. There has to be a ton of places to hide in this house.”

Aralie laughs and runs out of her room.

“I’m in,” she says.

She locks arms with Tate, tells him that she
’s going to hide with him, and bounces down the stairs to collect Noah, Jules, and Emery. Benji shrugs and follows behind them.

“
So much for Oreos,” Milo says.

He turns and walks to my bedroom, tosses the package of cookies onto my bed, and meets me back in the doorway.

“I think you should hide with me,” he says.

He grabs my wrist and pulls me toward the stairs with him.

Once we
’re downstairs, Emery explains how this is going to go down, since she’s obviously the rule-maker for everything in our house. She stands up on the coffee table, but neither Milo nor I bother to tell her to get down.

“I know every good hiding spot in this house,” Emery boasts.

“I’m seeking,” Benji interjects.

“Ohhhh,” Emery says. “I’ll help you. I know all the good spots, so I’ll be able to find everyone.”

Benji slouches next to me. He must
’ve thought he was going to get a free moment away from her. She yells at Noah and Jules ahead of time and tells them not to jump out or growl or do anything that might scare her. She also assumes, out loud, that Tate will be the easiest to find because she’ll hear him laughing.

As soon as she and Benji close the door to count to one hundred, we all disperse. Noah and Jules already have a plan, and Aralie drags Tate in the opposite direction.

“Where to?” Milo asks.

I glance around to make sure we’re truly alone before I grab his hand and run back upstairs. He tags along, quickly and quietly, as we hurry down the hallway of the second floor. We bypass my bedroom, Aralie’s room, and then Emery’s room. Instead of turning left toward the guestrooms, where Spaceships Around Saturn have been crashing, I lead Milo toward the third floor staircase.

“Emery is scared of the third floor,” I say. “We may be alone for a while.”

We move up the staircase a bit more quietly. Then I lead Milo down the hallway to Mom’s old crafting room. Sunlight pours through the sheer white curtains and reflects off of the wooden flooring. Milo notes that the acoustics probably sound great in here with such a high ceiling. Thick layers of dust hug the old tables and piano that Mom quit playing years ago. Inside of the wall is a huge walk-in closet. I reach inside to flip on the light, but the bulb is shot.

“Can you handle the dark?” I ask, spinning on my heel to face Milo.

“Are you not hiding in there with me?” he asks. “You know, I won’t have fireflies to make me feel safe this time. I kind of need you.”

Do you hear that, Saturnites? Milo Grayson kind of needs me. Of course, you don’t hear it, though. This is lockdown. I can’t share my excitement with anyone. Maybe Noah will be willing to listen to details later. I can make him feel ‘in the loop’ about things.

Milo steps into the closet and reaches his hand out for me. There’s not a question in my mind as to whether I want to hide in a dark closet with him – who wouldn’t want to? – but my mature older sister side kicks in.

“Do you know how bad this is?” I ask him. “We’re supposed to be in charge, but we’re hiding out in a dark closet with each other.”

H
is mouth scrunches to one side as he shrugs.

“Technically, you’re not actually
in
the dark closet with me yet,” he says.

I grab his hand and let him tug me toward him. He doesn’t close the closet door all the way, allowing just enough light to leak inside so that I can see his silhouette. He leans back against the wall, sinking into the shadows, and pulls me to him.

His breath is warm against my ear as he holds me close to him. “You know,” he whispers. “When we found out about the lockdown, I never expected this to happen.”

His
grip tightens around my waist, and I run my hands along his arms.

“That shirt looks so good on you
.” I say it now since I know I’ll never be able to admit it outside of our dark hiding spot.

“You can’t even see my shirt right now,” he whispers directly into my ear.

“I don’t have to,” I say, somewhere just above a whisper. “I thought that the first night you got here, when you were sitting on the armrest.”

His hand moves up to my face and pushes my hair back over my shoulder. Then his fingers trail along my cheek and down my jaw line.

“You wanna know a secret?” he asks.

I nod but am not sure he sees me. I assume he does since he keeps talking.

“I only asked you to move down on the couch because I could smell your peach shampoo, and I wanted to be closer,” he says.

He runs his fingers through my hair.

Oh, Apricot Showers, I’ll never use another shampoo as long as I live. If there was ever a commitment ceremony between an Earthling and her shampoo, it would be between us because I’m committing my hair to the scent of peaches for eternity. I may seriously have to speak some vows next time I wash my hair.

He inhales. “You want to know another secret?”

“If it’s anything like that last secret, then yes, please,” I say.

He laughs for half a second, but his arms tense, and I know he’s about to get serious. I like the serious side of Milo. It’s one of the main reasons I’m attracted to him in the first place. But right now, his seriousness scares me. It’s intense and real.

“I’ve always been the guy in the band who said he’d never get caught up in some girl,” he confesses. “I’m the one who lectures the other guys about our image and girlfriends and how messed up things can get if we try to balance a relationship on top of our careers, and–”