Jackson chirped as he joined me under the easy-up, sipping an energy drink, the last thing my hummingbird style friend needed. “Shit, not you too,” I grumbled. “Not me too what? What did I do?” I shook my head. “Nothing. I’m just feeling down.” “Yep.” He sipped the drink. “Saw that from all the way across the grounds. I thought, uh oh, shoulders drooping, posture worse than usual and stray curl just chillin’ on the forehead, my buddy, El, is bummed about something.” “Must you use the word buddy? I’m a buddy and a chum and a wingman and—” I released a sound that mimicked exactly how I felt. Miserable. “And worst of all”—I looked pointedly at Jackson—“As you so eloquently pointed out, I’m safe.” Jackson put his drink down on the lunch table and took hold of both of my hands. I dragged my gaze away from my feet and looked at him.
