I’m eating breakfast the next morning when Leo walks in with two cream-colored envelopes. The one on top has my name written in cursive across the front.
“Are you and Max getting married already?” I joke, dropping my spoon into the cereal bowl. “So nice of you guys to invite me.”
Leo isn’t really listening; he just walked Max out to his car—so that he can get back to Michigan in time for finals—and he still seems a little dazed. He sends one of the envelopes spinning across the table in my direction, but it skids onto the floor, startling Lucky, who has been dozing at my feet.
“What is it?” I ask, leaning to pick it up, then tearing it open. The paper is thick and expensive, and it has a pearly shine to it.
“No idea. Someone slipped them under the door.”
His eyes are bloodshot this morning, either from too much caffeine or lack of sleep or just Max’s sudden absence in the wake of his sudden appearance. Last night the two of them returned home hours after they left with matching smiles and a giddy, nervous energy about them. Uncle Jake paused the movie we were watching as they stood in the doorway of the living room, both bouncing on their toes.
“How much coffee did you guys have?” I asked, rubbing my eyes.
“Five cups!” Leo said, and Max gave us a manic grin.
“Seven for me.”
Aunt Sofia had raised her eyebrows. “And?”
“And we talked,” Leo said, looking at me as if this explained everything. Which it sort of did.
When they headed to the kitchen to get some leftover pizza, I saw Max reach for Leo’s hand. They paused, their eyes locked and their hands knotted between them. They were just beyond the doorway, but from where I was sitting I could still see the look they exchanged, full of such obvious love that I actually let out a sigh.
But this morning Max is gone again, and even though he’ll be back soon Leo is clearly in no mood for whatever is in these envelopes.
I open mine, then stare at the piece of paper in my hand, surprised to find a bizarrely formal request for us to appear at Teddy’s apartment today at four o’ clock sharp for a presentation. It’s signed Theodore J. McAvoy with a funny-looking flourish.
“This can’t be from Teddy,” Leo says flatly, puzzling over his own invitation. “The guy barely owns a pen. There’s no way he went to a stationery store.”
“What are the odds this is a prank?”
Leo doesn’t answer. He just shakes his head, turning the paper over in his hand. “What kind of presentation could it be anyway? ‘How to Fritter Away Your Lottery Money on Needlessly Expensive Card Stock’?”
On the way to school we continue to speculate.
“Maybe it’s more of an announcement,” Leo says, walking with his fingers hooked into the straps of his backpack. “Maybe he’s buying an island. Or investing in space travel. Or maybe he’s gonna tell us he’s off to explore the world.”
A shiver runs through me at the thought of this last one.
When school is over I meet Leo near the bike racks, and together we start the walk to Teddy’s. It’s the kind of spring afternoon that makes you forget about the winters here, the sky so blue it looks almost fake and the trees crowded with brand-new leaves.
“So you and Max,” I say, and he smiles involuntarily. “You’re good?”
He nods. “Getting there.”
“What happens next?”
“I don’t know. He’ll be home for the summer, so that’s all I’m thinking about for now. After that I guess we’ll have to see.”
“Yeah, but what does that mean?”
“It means we’ll see.”
“Right, but—”
“It means,” he says, “that I don’t really know. Maybe it’ll be good or maybe it won’t. Maybe it’ll all blow up again once we’re apart next year. Maybe he’ll break up with me, or I’ll break up with him. Maybe we’ll live happily ever after. Or maybe we won’t.” He shrugs. “I’m taking your advice and trying to pretend there isn’t any sort of scoreboard. Which means it doesn’t make sense to worry about it so much. Instead I’m just gonna try to live it and see how that goes.”
I nod. “Well, I have a good feeling about it.”
“Weirdly enough,” he says with a smile, “so do I. And since I’m attempting to be more positive and operating under the assumption that I’m going to be spending more time in the Show Me State next year, I decided I’m gonna pick up some extra design work this summer so I can start saving for a car.”
“You’re going to be spending more time in Missouri?”
He frowns at me. “Michigan.”
“I’m pretty sure the Show Me State is Missouri,” I say, trying not to laugh, and he rolls his eyes.
“You don’t have to be right about everything, you know.”
“Just geography,” I say agreeably. “And your love life.”
As we near Teddy’s building I look up toward his bedroom window.
“I wonder how long this will take. I’m supposed to be at the soup kitchen later.”
“I think you’ll be fine,” Leo says. “We’re talking about the guy who set the record for the shortest oral report in South Lake High School history.”
“Ah, yes,” I say, trying not to laugh. “His four-second presentation on the subject of brevity. That was a classic.”
When we reach the door Leo pushes the buzzer, then we both stand back and wait for Teddy’s usual hullo to crackle out over the speaker. Instead there’s a burst of static, then a voice, brisk and only vaguely familiar: “May I ask who’s calling?”
Leo and I exchange a mystified look. He leans forward again, his mouth close to the speaker. “Teddy?”
“Yes?”
“It’s, uh, Leo. And Alice.”
“Welcome,” Teddy says, his tone changing into something a bit more cheerful, but still no less formal. “Thank you both for coming. Even though you didn’t RSVP.”
“Oops,” I say as Leo jabs the button again.
“Are you planning to let us up?” he asks, and as an answer, the buzzer drones loudly and the lock on the door clicks.
“Maybe the money’s finally made him eccentric,” I say as we trudge up the four flights of stairs. When we reach the top, it’s to find the door to number eleven propped open with a chair. Inside, Teddy is standing in the living room in a neat black suit and striped green tie. He’s wearing glasses, though he has perfect vision, and there’s a pencil stuck behind one ear. He looks like someone playing the part of Businessman #2 in an old movie.
He also looks incredibly handsome.
“Sorry, was this supposed to be a formal presentation?” Leo asks, half-joking, but Teddy looks him over with a serious expression, taking in his sneakers and jeans.
“I suppose that’ll do,” he says, like some sort of robotic butler.
I glance over at the living room, where three blue binders are sitting on the coffee table, as if in preparation for a standardized test. Beside each, there are two neatly arranged pens and two sweating glasses of water on coasters. There’s also a blank whiteboard propped on an easel in front of the TV and a fat black marker resting in the tray below.
“What’s going on?” I ask, turning back to Teddy, who gestures in the direction of the couch in an overly grand and strangely formal way.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he says, though there are only two of us in the room with him. “Shall we begin?”