Page 142 of Places We've Never Been

He paused.

“I was smarter at thirteen,” I said.

He smiled. “You were pretty smart.”

I tilted my head to look at the entry. “Is there more?”

“Are you hoping your thirteen-year-old self is going to tell you what to do now?”

“Yes, did she leave a template to an apology letter? To whom it may concern, I know I’ve said or done something stupid, but despite the way I delivered the message, it was very true.”

“Is that for the dean?”

“It’s really sad that you have to ask. That I could write that letter to so many people right now.”

He chuckled.

“Yes, my mom thinks I should write an email to the dean.”

“What do you think?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s okay not to know.”

I nodded to the book.

He held it out for me. “It’s your entry, you should read it.”

I played with the bottom of his shirt, twisting it around my finger once, then unwinding it. I looked at him. His gaze was unwavering. I took the book from his hand. The words were written in my even strokes that seemed so confident and sure. I read, “You’re already gone so maybe you’ll never read this. Or you’ll read it when you come back to visit. Or maybe, if I remember to, I’ll read it to you over the phone. Or maybe four years will go by and I’ll read it out loud to you in an RV in a hospital parking lot.”

“Wow, you were so oddly specific,” he said.

“I often am.”

He smirked.

I continued. “I already miss you. And since you’ve been gone I’ve been thinking about this. The creative thing. You helped me discover that because you never made me feel stupid for being me. And you never made me feel stupid about what I thought up or created. You always told me that art is meant to be shared so that it connects with the people who need it most.” The smile left Skyler’s face, turning it serious, thoughtful. “It sounds socheesy now that I’m writing it down but I don’t think I’d be the artist I am or even the person I am if I hadn’t known you. Yeah, I’m not going to read that out loud to you. I’d be too embarrassed. But maybe one day you’ll read this. And maybe you feel the same way.”

A horn blared on the street outside and I jumped a little. I closed the book and set it aside, then hugged my knees to my chest.

Skyler was my person. He always had been. My thirteen-year-old self knew it and my seventeen-year-old self knew it even more. It didn’t matter what my mom said, or the hard things we were going to face in the coming years. I knew we’d face them better together.

“I feel the same way,” he said.

“I’m not sorry we kissed,” I whispered.

“I’m not sorry either.”

“I love you,” I said.

“I love you too.”

“Skyler, there’s something…”

“What?” he asked when I didn’t continue.

“Your…Never mind.”

“Never mind?”

“Just remember you love me later, okay?”

“You think I’m not going to remember that when I’m gone? I’ve loved you for half my life. I’m not going to forget.”