Page 37

I roll my eyes. “If we’re not share-our-snacks friends yet, then I really don’t think we’re at the celebrating-birthdays-together-type-friends level. Do you?”

He considers that, and then throws his illegal Kinder egg my way. “We’re on our way. Look at us! Who woulda thought? We just needed to get you a little less nauseous, so you could tolerate being in my presence.”

“Hey, I’m still nauseous. Your bands aren’t magic.” But as soon as those words leave my mouth, I realize they’re not true. My head is clear. Nothing burns at the back of my throat. And my stomach is... not normal, but at least not sloshing around anymore.

I haven’t felt like throwing up for at least twenty minutes now, and I can tell by the smile tugging at Alex’s lips that he can see it.

“Oh, not magic, you say?”

“Shut up. Also, thank you.”

Chapter Ten

The exact moment my alarm goes off the next morning, a sliver of bright light cuts through the darkness and then disappears with a click. I hear heavy footsteps.

“Are you a murderer?”

“If I was a murderer, how exactly do you think I would answer that, Lenore?” Wally says, and I can hear the scowl on his face.

I see the outline of his lanky figure walk over to his bed and place something under his pillow. Then he clomps over to the bathroom, shuts the door, and a moment later, I hear the spray of the shower.

I turn on my light and see that his bed is perfectly made. Like he never even slept in it last night. He was here at one point, sitting on his bed in the dark and watching the cruise’s activities channel with concentration that it didn’t deserve. I didn’t tell him to turn it off because I didn’t want to start another fight,so I fell asleep when the video hyping up bingo cycled around for the second time. Did he go to sleep after that? Did he go to sleepat all? And where was he just now? Wally isn’t one of those irritating people who work out in the morning, and he’s not sentimental or sappy enough to watch the sunrise.

I shouldn’t. I know that. But I’m also too curious to... not.

I jump up and listen at the bathroom door to make sure the water is still running and he’s actually moving around in there and not just using it to cover up that he’s taking a dump. And then I walk over to his bed and lift up his pillow to see what he put under there.

But it’s not a love letter or a bloody glove or something even remotely interesting. It’s a fuckingNorton Anthology of English Literature. A textbook!

Man, I remember when Wally used to be cool. He’s the one who took me to my first concert in middle school, Kendrick Lamar at the Forum, and showed me what shampoo to use to get the weed smell out of my locs. He campaigned his senior year to get Bixby High to let go of their prom king and queen titles in favor of something gender neutral, and won with Kieran. Issa Rae followed him back on Twitter. Only for a few weeks, but still!

And now he’s out here reading William Blake for fun? What happened to him? When did he become so... boring?

The shower shuts off, so I shove the book back under his pillow and hop over to my bed. I’m sitting there, looking way suspicious, when he walks out of the bathroom, a towelwrapped around his waist. There are large bags under his eyes, and maybe I’m just looking for something, but he seems skinnier, too. His ribs jut out more than I remember.

“Are you going to get up already?” he asks, annoyed. “We’re supposed to meet them in thirty minutes.”

Are you okay?I want to ask.What happened with you and Kieran? Do you want to talk about it?But instead I just say, “I’m up. I was waiting for you to be done.”

He rolls his eyes. “Well, I’m done.”

We have to take a tender boat into the shoreline instead of just pulling up like we did in Palermo, and once we’re there, we meet our tour guide, Adonis—legit, that’s what he said his name was. I mean, maybe he was fucking with us, but I’m not about to question him. Anyway, Adonis says we’re not even done with the journey yet, and that to get to the port of Thira, we have three options: cable car, donkey ride, or walking the 580 steps to the top.

I crane my neck all the way back, squinting at the zigzag path that goes up the mountain to the buildings stacked up on the cliff like a pastel layer cake. There’s no way we’re doingthat. And the donkeys have sad eyes and look like they’re a few steps away from selling their story to theBlackfishdirectors. So, I think it’s pretty obvious that we’re going to ride the cable car up the mountain real quick, giving us more time to feast on spanakopita and baklava and, like, grapes or whatever. But then Alex says, “I’m going to walk.”

I snort-laugh. He can’t be serious. But then I look at him, forehead all scrunched in determination as he studies the winding trail. He’s serious.

“You want to come with me, Lenore?” he asks. “It’ll be fun.”

I shake my head. “I’m not trying to exercise on vacation. Or plummet to my death off the side of a mountain.”

He shrugs. “I see it as an opportunity to really see Santorini. To understand the culture of the island, you know? And when will we ever get the chance to have this view of the Aegean Sea again?”

“I’m sure the view at the top is just fine,” I say.

But my dad is nodding his head. “I like that outlook, Alex. I would be right there with you if I didn’t have this bad knee.” His knee seems plenty fine when he plays golf every other weekend, but okay.

And it’s not just my dad, either. Mom, Dr. Lee, and Mr. Lee are all looking at Alex as if he said something profound, even though he really sounded like he was quoting one of the travel brochures on the boat. It’s stupid. And even more stupid, it makes me say, “I’ll walk with you.”