Midnight Sun(34)

But I start rethinking how he’ll take the news now that I’m about to be faced with it. All my confidence that he’ll be chill and cool and that nothing will change is gone. I decide he’ll probably pretend it doesn’t matter and profess that my condition won’t come between us. But then we’ll somehow start seeing less of each other. He’ll suddenly become busy at night. And the best thing that’s ever happened to me will be over.

I lean my elbows on the table and decide to offer up half the story. Test the waters. “No exotic locations. Because you’re my mission. I was under strict orders not to be seen, but I’ve been watching you for years from the safety of my own room.”

A beat. Charlie blinks. Then he grins at me. “See? I was close. Sorry if I blew your cover.”

He gathers up the now-empty boxes of Chinese food and goes to throw them out. When he comes back, he slides into the seat next to me and puts his arm over my shoulders. We watch the stars go by as the train chugs along.

“You were so young. When your mom died, I mean,” he says softly.

“Yeah.” I often wonder about what happened to my mom after the car hit her. What did she think about? Was there a white light, did her grandparents escort her to heaven? Will she get me when it’s my turn? Or will it just be blackness, a big void, a curtain coming down and that’s it, like I never existed at all? For some reason, I always get stuck on that last thought. It’s, like, my biggest fear, even though I can’t explain why. I have to make a mark on this world before I’m forced to leave it. I have to make my time here matter somehow.

“That must’ve been awful,” Charlie says, interrupting my dark and desperate thoughts. “Do you remember much about that time?”

I think back for a moment. Dad and I dealt with Mom being gone in much the same way we’re dealing with the current situation: We slap a smile on our faces and power through, usually pretending the problem doesn’t exist at all. Like if we ignore it long enough, maybe it’ll just go away.

“Um, honestly, all I remember from that time is my dad. Watching him pretend to be okay so I’d be okay. And I’m pretending to be okay so he’ll be okay,” I tell Charlie. “But somehow… you know, I guess we actually did make each other okay. We learned how to miss her together without being swallowed by the grief.”

Charlie nods. “Yeah, you and your dad seem like you’re really close.”

I shrug, staring out the window at Cassiopeia. According to Greek mythology, she’s chained to a throne, forever stuck there as punishment for her boastfulness and vanity. I wonder sometimes if I did something to deserve XP, something terrible that requires me to do penance in my house and my room all day, every day, until the sun sets.

“Yeah. I wish he knew me a little less well, though,” I say.

This isn’t an entirely true statement. I know I’m lucky my dad loves and understands me. I just wish I had an opportunity to be loved and understood that same way by more people, people my own age, like, at college. I want to be heading off in the fall, too, instead of watching everyone else’s lives expand while mine continues to contract. I’m terminally frustrated by my situation, especially by the recent realization that having XP basically means neither of the people closest to me will ever consider me an adult in the same way they would if I was disease free. They’ll always feel the need to watch over me and baby me.

“Ready for dessert?” Charlie asks.

I nod.

“Okay then. Hold out your hand and close your eyes,” he commands.

Charlie pours a pile of something into my cupped palm. “You can open up now.”

I stare down at my hand. In it is a pile of Skittles, like the ones he kept trying to return to me the first night we met. I smile up at Charlie.

“I got moves for days,” he says. “Hey! We’re almost here!”

I look out the window and see the Seattle skyline coming into view. I don’t know where I thought we were going, but this is even cooler than I ever could have imagined.

“Seattle?! Cool!”

The train comes to a stop and we get off. Neither of us really knows where we’re going, and I’m pretty sure Charlie’s agenda was just Let’s hit Seattle and figure it out when we get there. We find ourselves wandering along the waterfront. Everything about being here is new and exciting, and it’s honestly enough for me to just be looking at the glittery span of parks and piers that seems to go on forever.

I gape at all the sidewalk cafés dotting streets that wind around in a seemingly endless maze. Despite its being after what I would assume is most kids’ bedtimes, there are a lot of them still out eating with their parents. Guys with tight pants and hipster facial hair peck away at their laptops in coffee shop windows. Couples out on dates toast with glasses of champagne.

But what really blows my mind is how many people are out performing in the streets. Back in Purdue, I was always the only one. Here in Seattle, it seems like everyone has a talent.

On one street corner, a magician rips a hundred-dollar bill into a million little pieces. And then poof! It’s back together again. In the park, a pack of shirtless guys are doing the coolest break-dance moves I’ve ever seen, twisting themselves into pretzels, spinning on their heads, doing endless backflips over one another. There are these people dressed as statues who don’t move an inch no matter what you do or say. I know because Charlie and I tried to get the guy dressed up as a silver-toned Michael Jackson to laugh and he didn’t even crack a smile. So we took a picture with him instead and left a few dollars as a thank-you tip.