On Sunday, Tig got a call from Paris.
“It’s working,” she said.
“What? The new songs? “You’re getting them down already?”
“No. I mean, yes, I’m working on that, too . . . but the other thing. The plan. The Kyra and Milo thing.”
“Oh!” said Tig. “What’s going on?”
“Milo sent me a message that he’d introduced himself to Kyra on chat,” Paris said. “Apparently, they’ve been talking some. He likes her, I think.”
“Does she like him?”
“Well, it’s hard to say. I mean, Milo’s a guy. Guys think they’re doing great with girls even when they’re not. Especially Milo . . . I told you he’s not good at picking up hints.”
“But if she’s talking to him, that’s a good sign,” Tig said. “I wish we knew what she’d said, though. She might have politely blown him off.”
“I don’t think so,” said Paris. “Milo said she’s coming to the strings concert on Thursday to hear him play.”
“Get out of here!” said Tig. “Wow, that was fast!” The more she thought about it, though, it wasn’t that surprising. Kyra was probably giddy over a mystery boy’s interest in her. In fact, Kyra was probably bursting right this very minute to call Tig and tell her all about it. Well, good. Let her burst. “Thanks for the heads-up,” Tig said. “It will be interesting to see how Kyra acts at school tomorrow.”
That Monday morning, Kyra came into the gym after Tig, Robbie, Olivia, and Claire were already seated. But instead of walking right past them to go sit with the Scholars’ Bowl team, she walked up to the Pandora’s Box girls, her posture and facial expression sheepish, to say the least. “Hi,” she said.
“Don’t I know you from somewhere?” Tig said. “Oh right. You look just like this cousin of mine who tried to ruin my life over the weekend.”
Kyra grimaced. “Sorry?” she said.
“Yes, it was pretty sorry of you,” said Tig. “But Paris is still speaking to me . . . no thanks to you.”
“I really am sorry,” said Kyra. “That was a rotten thing to do to you. And to Paris. But I was so upset about the band. You hurt my feelings, and I wanted to hurt you back.”
“Mission accomplished,” said Tig.
“Can we just forget it ever happened?” Kyra said. “I don’t know what got into me. Lately stuff just really sets me off. I know I overreacted.”
Tig couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for Kyra. If she were going through what Kyra was, she’d probably have some major mood swings too. She’d probably just be looking for an excuse to lash out at anyone who was nearby. And even though Tig was still angry, she thought of how quickly Paris had forgiven her. It seemed somehow like she ought to at least try to extend the same generosity. “I guess we can try to move past it,” Tig said. “If you can understand that we didn’t ask you to leave the band out of meanness. You know we didn’t. And if you understand that I didn’t tell the girls about your parents until they’d already heard about it somewhere else.”
“I know,” said Kyra. “I understand. And I’m over it. Really, I am. Can we all be friends again?”
“What about the Scholars’ Bowl team?” asked Robbie. Tig was glad she wasn’t letting her off the hook too easily.
“Oh, y’all,” Kyra said. “I can’t hang with them. They have conversations about world geography and European history. I’ve never felt so dumb.”
“So you’ve come back to your intellectual equals?” said Tig.
“Yeah,” said Kyra. “Except for Robbie and Claire, of course.” Kyra smiled.
“Oh, thanks!” Olivia said. “Thanks so much!”
But at least they were laughing together again, even if it was awkward, tentative laughter.
“Hey, we’re really sorry about your folks,” Robbie said.
“Yeah,” said Olivia. “That stinks.”
“We want to be here for you,” said Claire. “If you’ll let us.”
Kyra hugged them all. “Thanks. It helps. Really. I’m so sorry we fought. I need y’all! Losing my family is hard enough. I can’t lose my friends, too.” Her voice cracked a bit and she swallowed hard. “And, Robbie, I’m sorry I was so ugly to Paris. She deserves better. She’s so nice. Really, really nice. And thoughtful!”
Robbie grinned. “Is she? What makes you say so?”
“Well,” said Kyra, a twinkle in her eye, “she introduced me online to someone from her school.”
“You don’t say?” said Tig.
“Yes,” said Kyra. “His name is Milo and he’s amazing! He’s cute and he’s supersmart.”
“I thought you were tired of smart people?” Robbie said.
“Not the hot ones who are into me,” Kyra replied. “Y’all, he’s the top student in his class and he plays the violin and he’s so charming!”
“How so?” asked Tig.
“Well, in one of our first messages, he told me I was pulchritudinous. Isn’t that sweet?”
“Pulchri-what-i-what?” asked Tig.
“Beautiful,” Robbie explained. But Tig didn’t think the word sounded beautiful at all. More like a skin infection or something.
“I’m going to his strings concert on Thursday, and then I’ll get to meet him in person!” Kyra said. “And it’s all because of Paris!”
“Paris’s pretty killer,” said Robbie.
“I’m happy for you,” said Tig.
“We all are,” said Claire.
“And you guys were right to kick me out of the band,” said Kyra. “I’m a lousy bass player. And I never practiced. “You’ll be better off without me.”
“Let’s just move forward from here,” Tig said. She knew it would take some time for things to be the same again, if they ever would. Kyra had violated her trust and had shown a pretty severe mean streak. Those weren’t things Tig would easily forget. But Kyra was dealing with a lot right now, and besides, she was family. And an awkward friendship with her cousin was better than no friendship with her at all.
“You can still come to practice just to hang out with us if you want,” Claire said. “Right, Tig?”
“Sure,” Tig said.
“Oh, thanks,” said Kyra. “But I can’t make it. I’ve got Milo’s concert.”
Kyra took her former usual seat and told the girls every detail she could think of about Milo. Meanwhile, Will came in and sat with Olivia. “Silly!” Olivia said. “Your shirt!”
The girls looked at Will’s shirt. He’d buttoned it wrong and it hung crooked.
Will blushed. “I was kind of running late this morning,” he said.
“I think it’s adorable!” Olivia said. “Isn’t he adorable?”
Robbie made a gag face, and the other girls laughed. Tig laughed too, but the problem was, she agreed with Olivia.
It was a weird feeling. Part of Tig wanted Will to be perfectly happy with Olivia because Olivia was her friend, and Olivia was crazy about Will. But the other part of Tig hoped that Will couldn’t stop thinking about her any more than she could stop thinking about him.
It seemed to Tig that now that they were in eighth grade, so much of life seemed to center around boys. She thought back to when they were in elementary school and thought boys had cooties. Things were so uncomplicated back then. But when she stole a quick glance at Will and he smiled at her and her stomach flipped, it wasn’t necessarily a feeling she entirely disliked. Even though it was something of a slow torture—thinking about Will all the time but not being able to do anything about it, wondering if he felt the same way—Tig wasn’t sure she wanted this strange torture to end. It was like having a beautifully wrapped box you hadn’t opened yet. The possibility, the expectation, the curiosity, the longing . . . Could what was actually inside the box ever measure up? Something about this odd, new emotion drew her. It made her feel alive.