It was a little boy’s room, with Lego monsters and kid-sized sports equipment and a Nerf basketball hoop.Bethany turned the lights off. She sat on the bed. I sat next to her.“So,” I said.She leaned against me with a sigh. “Yeah.”People downstairs broke into a round of applause.She rubbed her hand up and down my arm. “I’m glad you came.”“You are?”“Yep. Chip’s not glad.” She turned and looked at me, her eyes dark and serious in the glow of the Harry Potter alarm clock. “He thinks you’re a loser.”“I get that a lot,” I said.This was so funny it sent her to the floor in giggles. When I helped her up, she somehow landed half on the bed, half in my lap.Take me now, God, take me while it’s perfect.“Did you know that you used to sound like a chipmunk?”Hold on, God.“I did?”“Oh, yeah. Remember? Earth science? Ninth grade. We used to laugh about it all the time.”“You mean you used to laugh at me.”“Well, yeah. But that was back when you were a dork.”
