A World Without You(94)

“Well,” I say. “I’m going to go hang out with my friends.” I lean down and pick up my purse from the ground, rooting around inside it for my phone. My parents got their pictures; now it’s time to get mine.

“Hey,” Bo says, reaching for me.

I pause, surprised, half thinking he’s going to pull me into a hug, which he has literally never done before. Instead, his hand goes to my face. He brushes my hair away.

“You’re about to lose that earring,” he says, touching the diamond.

My hands go immediately to my ears. He’s right; the back is loose. I tighten it, then check the other one.

“How did you even notice?” I ask. The graduation cap and several bobby pins hold my hair in place, covering my ears.

“Lucky guess.” Bo smiles at me. “I’d hate for you to lose one.”

“Yeah,” I tell him, my voice choking with unexpected emotion. “These really mean a lot to me.”

“I know,” he says.

I fiddle with the earrings, checking them again. I’m surprised that Bo would pay enough attention to notice that one was loose, to remember that they’re important, to even recognize that these were Grandma’s earrings before they were mine. Maybe I’m not as invisible to him as I thought.

“Only for special occasions,” I say, imitating Mom in a high-pitched voice.

Bo cracks a smile. “Yeah, well, life is a special occasion.”

The words surprise me, coming from him. But for the first time in a long time, I feel like maybe everything’s happening the way it’s supposed to be happening, and that it’ll all be okay.

“Go on,” he says genially. “I’m sure you want to take pictures with your friends.” I turn to go, but he calls out to me: “Pheebs?”

“Yeah?”

“What school did you pick?” He shuffles his feet. “I mean, the last time we talked about, you know, your future, you seemed a little . . . undecided.”

I grin at him. “Don’t tell Mom and Dad,” I say, leaning toward him and lowering my voice. “I did get accepted to NYU, and I’m going there, undecided major for now, but . . .” I draw out the last word.

Bo waits, his eyebrow cocked in anticipation.

“But I’m going to defer a year,” I say. I look behind me, making sure our parents haven’t overheard. I’ll have to tell them eventually that I plan on waiting a solid year before going back to school, but they can’t do anything about it. I’ve already submitted the paperwork and finalized it all. It’s my decision to make, and I made it.

“What are you going to do for that year?” Bo asks.

A grin spreads across my face, an immediate reaction that I’m not sure comes from joy or relief or something else entirely.

“That’s the best part,” I say. “I have no idea.”