American Girl On Saturn (21 page)

I dare to tilt my head upward so I can see his face. His eyes look even more caramelized with Christmas light speckles in them.

“It’s called ‘Un-shattered’ because it’s about un-shattering someone’s heart,” he explains.

“Was there really a broken girl?” I ask. Shoot me. I
have
to know.

He shakes his head.

“Not at that time, no,” he says. “Unless Benji had one that I never knew about. We just liked the idea and wrote it. The label said the bar scene wasn’t good for our younger fans. They didn’t want them to think drinking away your sorrows and leaving with a stranger was okay. They missed the deeper meaning.”

I guess it comes with the territory. Boybands can’t be rated-R. No sex, no steam, no late nights in bars. At least boybands are moving forward, though. There was a time when only the stereotypical bad boy was allowed to have tattoos.

“So,” Milo says. “Will you do me the honor of listening to my song and dancing with me?”

I nod, letting myself fall victim to all things Milo Grayson. As he pulls me close and sings a soft melody, everything is right.

I wait at the bottom of the ladder for Milo to turn off the lights in the treehouse. He shuffles around, and plastic crinkles above me. I glance around, but I can’t see what he’s doing. The treehouse goes dark.

“Hey, I have something for you,” he says as he climbs down.

He holds out a pack of blue tissue paper. Just tissue paper. Then he gently shakes it, and it opens up. It’s another wish lantern. A blue wish lantern.

“I wanted us to have a special one,” he says, pulling a lighter from his pocket. “So this is ours. Just ours. And we’re going to wish on it together.”

He steadies the lantern in the moonlight and flicks the lighter for a flame. Blue burns orange and lights the fuel pack. He tilts and turns it until the fuel pack is ablaze, then he flips the lantern over. I balance the pre-assembled bamboo against my fingertips as the wind slowly gathers its strength for flight.

“Okay, this is for us,” Milo says. “What’s your wish? It’ll be our secret.”

I think for a second, watching the blue paper lantern glow between us. It’s going to drift away in a moment, far into the night sky, lost among the clouds. It’ll eventually flicker out like a firefly, but right now, while it glows, I smile.

“My wish is for you to be my firefly,” I say. “After lockdown ends, we’ll only see each other in moments, for short flickers of time.”

“And it’ll always make us smile,” Milo says. “I’ll be your firefly. I think I like that even more than being a bleeding butterfly. Be mine too?”

Our lantern lifts from our fingertips and wobbles for just a moment, spreading its imaginary paper wings and taking flight. It glows like a blue spaceship, orbiting its way back to Saturn, where it belongs.

“I’ll be your firefly too,” I say.

He pulls me into a hug, and we watch our lantern flicker away into the night.

The screen of my laptop lights up, and I wait impatiently for the internet to connect. It takes about three seconds, but I’ve wanted to see photos from the real Up, Up, and Away Festival since last night when I saw the hot air balloons in the distance.

I’m not even sad that I missed it. More than anything, I want to see the photos so I can smile to myself because my night with Milo and Spaceships Around Saturn was so much better than the festival ever could’ve been.

I sign into my Facebook account to multiple notifications.

Paige Harding has tagged you in 36 pictures.

Thirty-six pictures? Of what? I’ve barely seen her all summer, and the last time I even remember her having a camera near me was graduation night. She uploaded those pictures as soon as she got home.

I pull up the first photo. It’s of Deacon. With Paige. Kissing. Not like the way Milo kisses me but in the way that rabid dogs bite each other’s faces off. Her caption reads:
Sometimes you just have to give a man what he wants. Sometimes you have to woman up!

Twenty-four comments wait below.

Lauren: Damn Paige. Doing it is one thing but tagging her? That’s low.

Random jerk from school: Ha! The Ice Queen just got burned!

The jokes continue throughout the conversation – all of them at my expense. Why am I the laughing stock? Why am I the one who is talked about badly? Deacon clucked – freaking
clucked
– Benji’s last name in the parking lot while harassing my sister and me, and Paige is a backstabbing friend who only did this so she could tag me and act like a badass.

I slam my laptop shut as my bedroom door flies open.

“Don’t get on Facebook!” Aralie shouts, rushing toward my bed.

She grabs my laptop and hugs it to her chest.

“I’ve already seen it,” I tell her, pulling my laptop back to me.

She gets up and closes the bedroom door, then joins me back on the bed.

“I cannot believe that little bitch,” Aralie says. “I knew I hated her for a reason. I’m going to unfriend her right now, as soon as I tell her exactly what I think about her slutty ass.”

“Don’t,” I say, reaching out to stop Aralie from leaving or moving or whatever it is she’s thinking of doing right now.

My first reaction was to unfriend Paige and everyone else from school. It doesn’t matter if I rid myself of Deacon long ago. He’ll know that I saw the photos. I’m tagged in all thirty-six of them, and I’ve only seen the first one.

“We can’t
unfriend her,” I say, flipping the screen back up on my laptop. “I’m going to untag myself from these pictures, and we’re going to pretend nothing happened.”

Aralie stands up and paces on my lime green rug.

“Chloe,” she says through her teeth. “You’re too freaking nice to her and to that jerkoff ex of yours. They need to get theirs. I know, I know – karma will work itself out, but damn it, I don’t have time for karma. I want revenge now.”

There she is – my Aralie. The girl who curses people out if they say something about someone she loves. The girl who has to be held back because she really will kick a guy in his guy parts. The girl who lived across the hall before Spaceships Around Saturn joined us on a lockdown. They’ve softened her…a lot. I like the nicer, less-edgy Aralie. But some days, I need that wild child in her to resurface. Like today.

“Look,” I say. “When lockdown ends, you have a memory card full of pictures that will be the envy of girls all over the world. You can post them. Tag me in them. Tag Mom in them. Make sure everyone who could possibly see them does. Including Paige. So you have to keep her for now, just long enough for revenge.”

My sister laughs manically.

“Oh! I have to show you something,” she says.

She dashes out of my room and returns with her digital camera. She’s used it more during lockdown than she has in the last year. The only other time I remember her taking so many pictures was at the Sebastian’s Shadow concert.

“Look,” she says, flashing a picture of Milo and me from last night.

We’re on the back patio with twinkle lights glowing behind us. I remember the moment. Aralie interrupted us while we were discussing how we were going to be able to sneak out later. She screamed for us to ‘look happy,’ so Milo pulled me into him and smiled. We look unbelievably happy.

“You know,” Aralie says. “If he wasn’t all famous and stuff, he could pass for your boyfriend.”

Right. Because a famous guy wouldn’t actually be my real boyfriend. I know she doesn’t mean it the way it sounds. I don’t even care. At least I’m not dating Tate.

She flips through her hundreds of photos, showing me the funniest and cutest ones. She’s basically documented all of lockdown on that memory card. I hope she’s backed up those pictures somewhere. My heart will mutilate itself if we lose them.

As soon as Aralie leaves my bedroom to play Xbox with Tate, I untag myself from all of Paige’s pictures. I do my best not to read the comments, but my God, so many people are eating the drama like it’s their favorite desserts. All of these idiots from high school have something to say, like it’s any of their business. Most of these people didn’t even talk to me in school. I don’t recognize some names, but apparently, everyone knows who we are.

The last photo is another of Paige and Deacon. All freaking thirty-six pictures were of them. But this one is more genuine. It’s reminiscent of Aralie’s photo of Milo and me. I bet Paige sweet talked him and told him to look cute so she could post it on Facebook immediately.

Yes, Facebook. I do want to remove myself from the photo. Just like all of the other ones. I wish I could remove these images from my mind altogether. I wish I could remove Paige and Deacon from my life for good. If only you could unfriend, delete, and block people in reality like you can on social media accounts.

I sign off and push my laptop away. I want to cry. And I can’t tell anyone that I want to cry because everyone will take it the wrong way.

I’m not sad because of Deacon, and I definitely don’t want him. I’m so beyond over him. I’ve been over him because he’s an idiot. In fact, I want him to move on with some other girl so everyone can gawk over her and forget about me.

I’m sad about Paige. Because she was supposed to be my friend. Because she was the only one who stuck by me. Because lockdown happened and she knows I’ve been lying to her so she did this to me in retaliation. But most of all, I’m sad because the one person who I thought would always be there turned out to be someone who was never truly my friend in the first place.

Ugh. I need to vent and cry and curse and scream, and I can’t because Mom and Aralie will think I’m hurt over Deacon. I can’t tell Milo because that’d just be stupid. No one tells the new guy about anything that relates to the old guy. I just need to be mad about Paige.

And I know who will let me.

Noah carries a glass of strawberry milk outside with us. He’s already heard from Mom. She panicked over breakfast when she saw the photos. Luckily Noah and Benji were the only ones in the room with her at the time.

We sit on our lounge chair from last night. Less than twenty-four hours ago, Noah forced Milo to swap seats with him so I’d stop stealing his fries. I wish I could just rewind all of it. I’d still take his fries, but I wouldn’t have logged onto Facebook this morning.

“So, let’s talk about it,” Noah says after one sip.

I can’t wait to brag to the Saturnites of the world that Noah actually talks to me before he finishes his glass of strawberry milk each morning. Milo told me that lockdown has been the only time he’s ever seen Noah talk before finishing his milk. It makes me happy, like I have a real friend who’ll let me ramble about life and cry on his shoulder even though it disrupts his morning milk intake.

“I hate my life,” I say. I sound just like Emery. “Paige is a backstabber, Deacon is the biggest idiot alive, and everyone in this freaking town is laughing at me.”

“Umm,” Noah says. “I’m not laughing.”

Why does it feel like the world is crashing down around me? After prom, I thought things couldn
’t get much worse. Then lockdown happened, and my summer was cancelled. And Paige backstabbed me and made a mockery of me. I admit – lockdown hasn’t been bad. Lockdown is going to end, though. What will happen then? Yeah, I like to believe it’ll all work out and there’ll be a happily ever after, but when does that really ever happen?

“
You know what you need?” Noah asks.

I
look up from my own self-pity. His green eyes stare back at me through his messy dark hair. I didn’t think he could look any more punk rocker when he got here, but in two weeks, he’s grunged up a lot. He looks more ‘bad boy’ than Jules does. I hope his stylist never makes him wear old man golf shorts again. They’re so
not
Noah.

“What do I need, Noah?” I ask, as much as I don’t want to hear his goofy answer, whatever it may be.

“A new best friend,” he says. “You know, someone who listens to your problems, even when he hasn’t had his milk yet. Someone who keeps your new boyfriend a secret from everyone, even though it makes him look like an idiot sometimes. Or – best yet – someone who still covers for you after you pull him into the pool...fully dressed.”

For what feels like the first time in ages, I laugh. Noah’s right. I need a new best friend, and he’s more than proven himself. Besides, if I’m going to make this thing with Milo work, I might as well finally let Noah in the loop because they’re a package deal of sorts.

“None of this will matter after lockdown anyway,” Noah says. “Your life is gonna change so much. These people are going to feel like idiots.”

Aralie’s face flashes through my mind. She’ll find too much pleasure in posting her lockdown pictures when this is over. I can’t even blame her. I hope she tags me in every single one of them. So what if I haven’t been one-hundred percent honest this summer? I couldn’t be. My entire family has had to lie to protect Spaceships Around Saturn. The government made us do it.

“You know what else?” Noah asks, placing a hand on my back like I’m Emery’s age and in need of comfort.

I glance up and wait for his next monologue. Poor guy. He doesn’t realize I’m agreeing with everything he says in my brain.

“What?” I ask.

“Not to get all
bromantic on you or anything,” he says. “But Milo is a hell of a lot hotter than that thing you dated before.”

“You’re right,” I say. “That’s not
bromantic at all.”

Noah laughs and opens his mouth to say something, but the words never come. He watches behind me, through the patio door. Then he quickly looks away.

“Your boy’s up,” he says. “He just walked into the kitchen with Tate.”

I can’t see Milo. Not yet. I can’t face him when I’m still a mess of nerves and anger about Paige. I can’t tell him why I’m upset, and I know myself well enough to know that I can’t just fake it until I make it. I can’t let him think for half a second that I’m upset over Deacon. This is not the time for wrong impressions.

“I can’t see him,” I tell Noah. “I need a few hours to just…get my thoughts straight about Paige. Just to be mad and then calm down. I know, it’s stupid, but maybe it’s a girl thing. I just can’t face him yet. I don’t want him to know anything’s wrong.”

Noah takes a huge gulp of his milk, chugging a third of the glass at once.

“I’ll distract him,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Give me a minute to get in there. Then you can slip in and go back upstairs. I’ll keep him away for as long as I can.”

“You’re the best,” I say.

He laughs. “Just remember that next time you want to push or pull me into the pool.”

I watch Noah through the glass door as he makes his way over to Milo. He talks with his hands. Milo’s mouth scrunches to one side. Maybe Noah is pitching some big songwriting idea to him or a concept for their next music video. Whatever it is, Milo’s deep thinking.

Emery rushes out onto the patio before I can go inside. I hope she doesn’t expect me to watch Darby’s Daily Dose of Drama today. Or make friendship bracelets. Or draw more Saturn hearts with rings on posters.

“Chloe!” she shouts. “Do you know what today is?”

Yes, Emery, I do. Today is the one day of lockdown where I want to avoid all things Saturn and all things Milo…at least until midnight.

“What is today?” I ask.

She crosses her arms and glares at me. “You better
notta forgot!”

The galaxies align and shoot stars and fireworks across the universe.

“Of course not,” I say, realizing that I’m utterly screwed. “I’d never forget your birthday.”