The hall was dark except for strips of emergency lights spaced along the ceiling. Devon raised the blinds around the window nook, and a nearly full moon gave the semicircle a pale yellow glow.
We sat across from each other like we had that first day. Like strangers. In the dark, I could barely see his eyes. Good. I didn’t want to lose myself in a pair of baby blues ever again.
I didn’t want to lose myself, period.
People were still sipping coffee and eating cream puffs in the lobby, but the noise didn’t reach this far. It felt like we were the only two people left in the building. I’d found Mom to tell her where I was going. She stood with Jennifer Yeats, who grasped my hand and squeezed tightly when I walked up.
“Your speech was amazing, Ellie.”
“Thank you,” I said, sounding as stiff and wary as I felt. Maybe she was like Doris. Maybe I was Public Enemy #1. But if I was, what was she doing squeezing my hand?
“I was saying to your mother it’s a little startling to hear your children speak, and realize it’s not your words they’re repeating anymore.” She sighed. “But I’ll let Devon explain that.”
Something else for us to talk about, I guess. And it had been his idea for us to talk. But neither of us seemed to know where to start. The silence felt thick around me. I’d put my jacket back on, and now I wrapped it around me, stretching the material like a blanket.
Devon had come to my defense, and even though that meant the world to me, I didn’t know what it meant to him. All the ugly things I’d said to him at the hospital floated in front of me like dust in the air. I swallowed, gathering my courage. “I guess it’s my night to apologize.”
“No,” he said. “I’m the one who’s sorry.”
His words made it easier for me to breathe. “I never meant it to turn out like this,” I said, looking out the window at a clump of bushes, gray green in the moonlight. “I kept rationalizing why it was okay to hide my religion.”
“I’m the one who told you to.”
“But I did it.” I traced a finger over the glass. “I shouldn’t have blamed you.” I finally met his eyes. “At the hospital.”
“You were worried about your grandpa.”
“I still shouldn’t have done it.”
“It’s okay.”
“It isn’t.”
His lips suddenly twitched into a smile.
“What?”
“You,” he said. “You’re arguing again.”
I had to smile a little at that. “Thank you for tonight, Devon. For standing up for me.”
“I should have done it sooner.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You were right, all the things you said at the hospital. And during your oratory. It felt like you were talking to me.”
“I thought I could get through to your grandmother.”
“I should have helped.”
“No.” I shook my head. “It was my fight.”
“Maybe it should be all of our fights.”
I picked at a thread on my jacket. “That’s a really cool thing to say. But I’m guessing it’s not so easy when it’s your grandmother.”
“I told myself it was just a business thing, you know? Not a racist thing.” He shrugged. “Then you basically called me a wimp at the hospital.” He glanced up at me. “Totally pissed me off, by the way.”
He sat back, stretching out his legs. “When I got home, my mom had made meat loaf for dinner. She’d put a plate in the fridge for me, and she wanted to warm it up. I started yelling at her about meat loaf, how I hate meat loaf. She makes meat loaf all the time, and I always eat it, but suddenly I’m shouting that it looks like a slice of dog poop and doesn’t taste much better.”
I made a face. “Bet that went over well.”
“I didn’t care about the stupid meat loaf,” he said. “I was mad because of you. Because you were right. I don’t speak up for myself and I’d been eating meat loaf forever because it was my dad’s favorite, and I’d let my mom think it was my favorite, too.”
“So what did your mom say?”
“She stared for a really long time at the plate of meat loaf and then she asked, ‘You don’t like Caesar salad either, do you?’ ”
I smiled at the dryness in his voice. “Another one of your dad’s favorites?”
He met my eyes, smiling with me. “It got easier after that. We worked our way from desserts to dad’s favorite kind of socks, and finally to oratory.”
I raised my eyebrows. “And?”
“She cried.”
“Oh, Devon—”
“No,” he said, interrupting me, “it was actually okay. In a weird way, it was good it happened. She still wishes I’d follow in my dad’s footsteps, but she’s cool with some detours.” He grinned. “I’ve already talked to Mrs. Lee about doing radio broadcast at Benedict’s.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “I owe you for that.”
“I figured you must hate me.”
“No.”
He said it so fast, my heart thumped quicker. “You never called,” I said.
“I didn’t know you wanted me to.” He sighed. “Besides, what could I say? That you were right and I wasn’t?” He ran a hand through his hair. “Who wants to say that?”
I smiled.
“Camp didn’t feel right without you. Nothing did.”
I blushed so hard, I could feel my ears tingle. “What about your grandmother?”
“She’s still my grandmother. But she’s not telling me who I can be with.”
I looked back out at the night. “You won’t see me once school starts, anyway.”
He leaned closer. “You deserve the scholarship, Ellie. You were awesome tonight.”
“Well.” I smiled, a teasing note in my voice. “At least I finally did it.”
“What?”
“Kicked your butt.”
“Don’t get used to it.” He grinned back. He shifted around the nook until he sat next to me. “I’ve always wanted a long-distance girlfriend.”
“Is Canyon View long distance enough?”
He reached for my hand. I let him slip his palm in mine, loving the tiny sizzle that lifted the hairs along my neck. Then he kissed me. I lifted my arms around his neck and I kissed him back, and I knew maybe not everything was right in the world. But it felt pretty dang close.