American Girl On Saturn (19 page)

He tells me about the fishing trip, how he and Benji worked on some lyrics, and that Noah slipped in the mud and fell in the lake all on his own.

“And then Benji told me that we may need to form a new bromance because Tate and Jules have become best friends during lockdown,” he says. “I think it’s all the Xbox playing.”

“Well, you are the one looking at Benji through the window,” I say. “And he wanted to share a bed with you. Maybe
Benlo will be the next thing. Or Minji?”

Milo laughs and pulls away from me. He walks over to the corner of the treehouse and grabs Emery’s lime green and purple pillows. Thank God she doesn’t have her SAS pillow out here. He props them up in the corner of the futon and rests back on them.

“Come here,” he says, stretching his leg out behind me.

He’s too tall to fit comfortably on the futon, but he does his best. I lie down with him, resting against his chest. He secures his arms around me.

“You know, I don’t appreciate you calling me a creeper on Benji’s fake Twitter,” he says. “There’s actually a story behind that.”

I wonder if fans on the real Twitter know something I don’t know. I have this insane hunger to devour all things Spaceships Around Saturn so I never feel out of the loop, like right now. I bet other Saturnites knew that Benji and Milo share a house in Montréal. I bet someone even knows that Benji likes lemon water. The internet had to tell me that Jules is naturally a blonde and dyes his hair black to fit the bad boy image. These guys have been living here. I should know these things by default.

“Right after we got back from Australia, Benji and I moved into the house we have now,” he explains. “We were suffering from jet lag, so Benji decided to sleep for twenty-something hours, and I decided to be nocturnal and stay up for twenty-something hours.”

That makes sense. Benji likes sleep. Milo likes to roam with the vampires.

“I’d recorded a lot of stuff to watch when we got back, like Bruno Mars on Saturday Night Live,” he says.

I never took him for a Bruno fan. Hmm. I’ll add that to my SAS knowledge.

“So I was on the couch, in my boxers, singing my heart out while Benji slept upstairs, and you know that feeling, like someone’s watching you?” he asks.

“Oh yeah,” I say, nodding against him. “I live with Emery. I always feel like someone is watching me because she usually is.”

Emery is definitely the epitome of a creeper. She may not be some weirdo looking in windows, wearing a ski mask, or lurking with a camera, but she is on a creeper level all of her own. Benji might even appreciate the paparazzi after lockdown with Emery.

“Well, I had that gut feeling that someone was there, so I tried to play it cool. I glanced over to the window, and there was this girl – from her nose up – literally watching me through my window,” he says.

Okay, maybe Emery hasn’t reached ultimate stalker status in the world of Saturnites. Yet. In the future, anything goes, especially once Benji announces to the world that she’s his new BFF. She’s going to be the most popular Saturnite in the world. People will adore her and think she’s cute. She might even be Twitter famous. I’m sure the fans will respond to her much more nicely than they will to Aralie and me.

“What did you do when you saw her?” I ask.

“Screamed,” he says. “I just…screamed. Like a freaking idiot. Screaming.”

I completely crack up imagining Milo – cool, calm, serious Milo – screaming like a banshee in his boxers while Bruno Mars sings in the background.

“It’s not funny,” he says. “Benji ran downstairs in a half-sleep, stumbling over things, and the poor girl…I think I scared her more than she scared me because she bolted fast.”

A few more giggles slip out, as much as I try not to laugh at him. The scene plays out in my mind as if I actually saw it on a YouTube clip.

Milo hugs me to him. “At least you’re laughing now,” he says.

He’s right. I feel like I haven’t really laughed in days. My thoughts have been on lockdown ending, Milo leaving, and missing out on my hot air balloons for the first time in eighteen years.

I force myself to smile, then I kiss him before he can say anything else. He’ll probably want me to talk about the things that are on my mind so he can reassure me and make everything better. He’s good at making things better, but right now, I’m not really up for it.

Crickets and toads chirp in the night as we trek back toward the house. I still like to believe it’s really aliens doing Morse code. That just sounds much more exciting.

“So, my orange butterfly, can I wake you up early in the morning?” Milo asks.

“I can’t be your butterfly,” I say, wishing immediately that I hadn’t. “You can’t be mine, either.”

“Whoa, what?” He stops in the middle of the grass and pulls me back toward him.

His skin radiates in the moonlight. He was meant to shine. He was meant to bleed colors.

“Chloe,” he says. “Talk. Explain. Something?”

“I don’t know how,” I say, trying to unfizzle my thoughts.

“Words!” he says much too loudly. “With words! Speak! Words!”

“Shhhh,” I say, pulling him toward me. “You can’t be my butterfly because…they bleed and die and dissolve into wing particles. But you have to bleed, even if I hate it.”

“Okay, if you want to talk in metaphors, I can do that,” he says.

Oh Saturn. Why? Why must he be beautiful, talented,
and
smart?

“You’re right,” he says, pulling his arms free of my grasp and taking my hands in his. “Eventually, the sun will rise, I’ll have to bleed with my butterfly brothers, and the rest of the world will get to see my blue ink, not just you.”

I never thought I could smile at the thought of Milo leaving, but this boy seriously just made it happen.

“But here’s the thing,” he says. “I may bleed every single day for the world, but I bleed the most for you.”

The sun gleams through the blue and green suncatcher that
Emery made for Benji. It sways in the breeze, rocking back and forth above our patio. He helped her hang it there yesterday morning. He told her any time it caught the sun, it meant that he was thinking about her. If she wasn’t almost six, it’d have been utterly romantic.

Our house has been back to normal for the last two days…almost. Something must’ve happened while they were at the cabin because they’ve all changed a bit. Since the guys came back Thursday night, Aralie and Jules haven’t fought once, except for their rivalry for top scores on Wii bowling and baseball. Noah said, “Good morning,” to everyone yesterday before he even had his strawberry milk. And Milo, well, he’s always been super sweet, so not much has changed with him.

At first, I thought Dad might’ve said something fatherly and firm to them, but Dad left Thursday night and hasn’t been here to see the result. But now, watching Benji and Emery’s suncatcher on a Sunday morning, I feel like something’s just really off.

“Chloe,” Emery says, sliding the patio door back. “Benji said you need to quit sitting around alone and come help him.”

Of course, he said that. He has a freaking perfect tan just from looking at the sun. Some of us need more time with the Vitamin-D source.

“Why does he need me?” I ask, lifting my sunglasses to look at her. “Can’t Noah or Jules or you help him?”

She folds her arms and stomps her foot.

“He said he needed you,
Chloooooeeeee,” she says, dragging out my name for emphasis.

I grab my T-shirt off of the lounge chair, pull it over my head, and follow her into the kitchen. Benji stands in front of the counter with Mom’s muffin pan and a lot of lemon slices.

“Hey,” he says. “I need your help. You guys have a deep freezer, right?”

He better not have pulled me out of the sunshine to ask about a freezer. He slices into another lemon, and I notice the blue and green bracelet still wound around his wrist. He wears it every single day. All of the SAS guys have bracelets now thanks to Emery. Milo’s is blue and gray. I wonder if he’d trade it for my pink and black one.

“Yes,” I answer. “Why do you need a deep freezer?”

“I’m trying something,” he says. “Ms. Shelly sent G-man for some stuff. I’m
gonna make lemonade when he gets back. Right now, we’re making ice cubes.”

It’s so weird to hear my parents referred to as Mr. Scott and Ms. Shelly. I can’t even go there with G-man for Godfrey. Emery helps him fill the muffin holes in the pan with water, and Benji drops a huge slice of lemon into each one. I think Mom’s craftiness has worn off on him.

I help Benji carry the muffin pans to the freezer and find a way to miraculously keep them flat among the other items. When we walk back into the kitchen, Emery stands in a chair near the sink with the water sprayer aimed like a gun. The water is already running, so I do the only thing I can do – hide behind Benji.

Emery giggles like she does when we watch Darby’s Daily Dose of Drama. Benji mutters curse words under his breath. Emery quickly turns the water off and runs through the house laughing.

“Great,” Benji says. “You know, I’m trying really hard to be nice to that kid, and this is what I get for it.”

He pulls his shirt over his head and examines the water damage.

“Here,” I say, taking it from him. “We’ll stick it outside. It’ll be dry within an hour.”

I take the T-shirt and drape it over a lounge chair while Benji cleans up the water in the kitchen floor. Maybe he shouldn’t have been nice to Emery. She’s taking advantage of it now.

The letters BACCARINI stretch across the top of Benji’s back, like a name on a sports jersey. There’s an anime Grim Reaper with giant wings flying in the middle of his back, between his shoulder blades. I shudder when I think of how much those had to hurt.

“Thanks,” he says, looking over his shoulder at me when I slide the patio door closed.

He turns his attention back to the note cards on the fridge and scribbles another ‘tweet.’ I don’t stick around to read it.

“What do you think they’re doing?” Aralie asks from within the confines of her bedroom. “We’ve been trapped in here for nearly an hour.”

I wish I had an answer for her. Emery rolls around in the floor, completely uncaring that her cute little yellow dress is getting wrinkled to hell and back.

Mom asked us to stay in one of our rooms, the three of us together, until she and the guys were ready for us. That alone scares me. She also told us to wear what we’d bought for the Up, Up, and Away Festival, which is scarier.

Aralie swipes another layer of sparkles across her eyelid and touches up that hideously red lipstick she’s taken a liking to. She blows herself a kiss in the mirror.

I lie back on her bed, much like Emery in the floor. Earlier, Emery said my dress reminded her of a cupcake, so I’m feeling less than glamorous right now. My hair falls around me as I turn to watch Aralie model in front of the mirror. She’s as much a diva as Noah is.

Emery recounts Benji’s lemon ice cubes and how Mom sent Godfrey to the store for more items. Maybe we’re having Emery’s birthday celebration a day early. Apparently we’re going to celebrate it with a lot of lemon-flavored stuff. Eww.

“I’ve got it,” Aralie says. “Say you have to pee, walk down the hallway to the bathroom, and see if you see anything.”

“I will!” Emery volunteers, jumping up from the floor. “Now that you said that, I really do have to pee.”

Aralie sighs. “Fine,” she says. “But don’t act suspicious.”

She might as well have just told Emery not to breathe. That kid is going to be more suspicious than the loser who shot at Spaceships Around Saturn.

Emery slips out of the bedroom, and I watch her wander along toward the bathroom. She walks much too slowly and somewhat dances her way down the hallway. I close the door when I hear voices. Mom said no peeking, and I’m pretty sure all of the guys would rat us out.

Aralie twirls around in her silver and green dress, humming the tune of a Mutilated Arteries song. The SAS boys haven’t corrupted her entirely.

I wait at the end of her bed, where Jules’s laundry is forbidden to be, and listen to anything that may give us a clue as to what’s going on. But the only thing I hear is Emery’s footsteps.

She bursts through the door and slams it shut behind her. Her face is all hyena crazy again.

“I saw Noah,” she says. “He was wearing khaki pants.”

Aralie and I both stare at her, waiting for more.

“And?” Aralie asks, motioning her hand in circles to tell Emery to get on with it.

“That was it,” Emery says. “He was in khaki pants and a polo shirt and looked nice.”

He looked nice? Not weird or preppy or boring, but nice? Oh God. Emery is turning into Mom! I continue to stare at her, wide-eyed, I’m sure. I don’t even know what to say to that.

But it is strange that Noah is wearing khakis. He’s been in jeans, cargo shorts, and swim trunks every time I’ve seen him during lockdown. I didn’t figure he even owned khakis. He’s not the dress-up type, but neither is the sister spinning in her
Slytherin-colored dress.

There’s a knock on the door, and we all jump back, trying to act completely normal. Mom pokes her head in and smiles before entering and closing the door behind her. She’s wearing that slinky purple and black shirt that Aralie picked out for her and a pair of black
capris.
She
looks nice, if anyone does.

“Sit down,” Mom says, pointing toward Aralie’s bed.

I sit closest to the headboard and soon regret it. A poster of Mutilated Arteries looks down on me, and even though it’s just a photograph, I feel like their overly-tatted drummer is literally watching me. He folds his drumsticks in an X-shape over his chest. He looks scary. I hope Noah doesn’t go overboard with the ink like that guy.

“I have an announcement via Spaceships Around Saturn,” Mom says like a real publicist. “Because Emery’s birthday party had to be postponed, and due to our family having to miss the Up, Up, and Away Festival, the guys of Spaceships Around Saturn, along with a very helpful and crafty lady, have put together an alternative event for us and would like for you girls to join them. Right now, back patio.”

I laugh at that last line. So very Mom of her.

“This should be interesting,” Aralie says.

She’s the first one up and out of her bedroom. Emery dances along behind her, singing her own little song about how this is the best night ever. Mom laughs and looks at me.

“Personally,” she says. “I think the guys outside are much cuter than any guy you would’ve met at the festival tonight.”

I decide to humor her.

“You know what? You’re right,” I say. I stand up, flatten out my dress, and smile. “At least about three-fifths of them.”

The patio is lit up with twinkle lights and tiki torches. Jules helps Dad man the grill. He laughs at something with Aralie, and it
weirds me out that they’re sort of friends now. I guess Tate got through to him.

Benji rushes over to me as soon as I step outside.

“You have to see this,” he says, grabbing my arm and dragging me toward the jug of lemonade. “How awesome am I?”

What is it with these boys and ego boosts? I look into the lemonade, and there they are – lemons frozen in water, round-shaped like they’d been frozen in a muffin pan. Benji’s creativity is actually sort of awesome, so I cave in and nod to his question. He’s the least dressed up, in black skinny jeans and a polo shirt.

Emery stomps over to us.

“Why are you trying to be Chloe’s friend today?” she demands to know.

“Yeah,” Noah says, walking up beside me. He drapes an arm over my shoulder. “You know the deal, Benj. Aralie hangs out with Tate and fights with Jules. You entertain Emery. And Milo and I get Chloe because we’re the best triangle in the house.”

Noah drags me away with him to see Milo. He stands alone with Tate, maybe salvaging what he can of Tito, but looks our way when Noah clears his throat. Noah takes over conversing with Tate and hands me off to Milo. Hello, butterflies.

“Nice seeing you here,” Milo says. He leans over and whispers to me. “You look amazing.”

I feel like I’m the star in some clichéd teen movie. I have it all – summertime, a beautiful boy in a button-up shirt, the dress, and twinkle lights. Fireworks should go off any minute, and some popular boyband will play during the ending credits. Hey, look at that, I also have the boyband. Is it time for my close up shot?

Just as I try to find words to say ‘thanks’ or ‘you too,’ I catch Mom’s gaze and her motherly smile, and my heart fizzles.

“My mom knows,” I whisper.

“She what? How?” he asks, shifting his eyes around but refusing to look toward my parents.

“She suspects,” I correct myself. “She’s all but asked me what I think of you.”

For the first time in a few days, he does that silly sideways kiss thing with his lips. He’s obviously deep in thought about something.

“So, Ms. Branson,” he says. “What
do
you think of me?”

I lean over to him, so the other guys won’t hear, and I tell him the one thing I know he’s wanted me to admit since lockdown began.

“I think you’re the best looking guy in Spaceships Around Saturn.”

Hours later, Aralie compares the bug zapper to an electric chair for mosquitoes. She sits in between Tate and Jules and complains about the smell of cigarettes. She’s quite the charmer. Of course, Tate laughs.

Milo finally gives his guitar a break. He’s played too many SAS songs, too many oldies that Dad requested, and any random song that Benji and Jules could think of because they apparently know every lyric to every song since the beginning of music.

Noah settles back in next to me on the lounge chair we’ve been sharing most of the night. He has a plate of spicy fries with him, and I steal a handful.

“Milo!” Noah shouts. “Chloe’s been stealing my fries all night. Trade seats with me.”

Noah squeezes in with Benji and Emery while my guy eases down next to me.

“If you want fries that badly, I can go get you some,” Milo offers.

I shake my head. “It’s not as fun if I’m not stealing them.”

“Alright,” he replies. “I’ll get fries for myself. Then I’ll be back to join you, okay?”

I nod. “Don’t forget ketchup.”

Mom’s eyes meet mine for half a second when I glance back to make sure Milo really does get ketchup. Her face is beaming like a spotlight. I really didn’t expect her to be happy that her daughter may have a thing for an international superstar. Isn’t that supposed to throw up red flags of impending heartbreak and late night tears?
God, Chloe. Shut up. Don’t think about crap like that.

Milo lets me steal as many spicy fries as I want, and unlike Noah, he never complains. I focus on the fries so I won’t look up and see the hot air balloons creeping into the night sky. They seem so far away, so small.