Page 44 of Vespertine

Jazz tore his gaze away and looked toward the bay, thebreeze ruffling his hair. “The sun’s getting low. I should go.”

“Sure.”

“If you need me, you know where I am?”

“Big building. Steeple on top. I think I can find it.”

Jazz laughed but it sounded dry like leaves scrapingtogether. “Call if you want. Your folks have my number.”

Nicky shrugged.

“I’d like it if you did. I want to help you, Nicky. I wantto make up for—”

“No. Don’t do that. I don’t want to hear that. Because itcan’t be made up, got it?”

Jazz swallowed and nodded.

Nicky tried to pull up his big boy pants and say what neededto be said. It was hard. He was so much better at tantrums and acting like ashit. “Listen, if this friendship thing is going to work, you have to let go ofthe past too. I don’t want to be your pity-project because you feel bad for—”

“I don’t.” Jazz took a deep breath and looked at his hands. “Imean, you’re right.”

“Add lying to your confession this week.”

Jasper’s mouth twitched. “I probably should.”

A silence fell, filled with a chorus of cicadas trying toget their say before the sun went down. “Well, this is going to be weird.”

“We can do it. We were friends for so long. We can befriends again.” Jasper sounded almost desperate to convince him.

“Okay. I’m up for it. Why the fuck not?”

They clasped hands and for a second Nicky thought Jazz wasgoing to pull him in for a hug. Panic flared. He couldn’t handle that. TouchingJazz, smelling him…it would be too much.

“Bye,” Jazz said as he got on his bike with an easy grace. “Hopeto see you at Saint Mary’s. Or Blue Oasis. You’re welcome any time.”

Nicky waved as Jazz pedaled off down the drive, the windflapping his hair and clothes. Then he went back to dribbling and shooting,refusing to watch until Jazz was out of sight.

He could do this friendship thing. Probably. It couldn’thurt worse than it already did. The offer was more than he’d expected, but somuch less than he’d secretly hoped for. He really was stunted, wasn’t he? Stuckin a fantasy that he’d fueled for far too long with drugs and denial.

If he ever wanted to stop being Nico Blue, Nicholas Blumfeldneeded to grow the fuck up.

Chapter Eight

THESETTING SUN FLICKERED THROUGHthe trees, and Jasper squinted against it.The Blumfelds’ gravel drive jarred his wrists, and he stood on his pedals asthe slight slope made him freewheel down. He turned right toward town as aBMWapproached from the opposite direction. Jasper movedaside to let it pass but it slowed and rolled to a stop. The window slid opensoundlessly, and he looked into his mother’s beautifully made-up face.

“Jasper. Did you come from the house? I didn’t realize you’dbe visiting.” She was wearing one of her impeccable suits and her dyed blondehair was tied neatly in a ponytail.

Jasper moved his hands over the bars, like he was revving amotorbike. “Actually, I was here visiting the Blumfelds.”

Crystal Hendricks frowned. “Is everything all right? I sawMiriam last week and she seemed perfectly fine.”

“No, it’s all good.” He considered what to say but she’dfind out soon enough. People thought hairdressers got all the gossip, buthospitals were ten times worse. “Nicky’s back.”

Her mouth tightened. “Oh.”

A light breeze lifted Jasper’s hair. His shadow stretchedlong by his side, reminding him of the falling night. He bit down theinstinctive knee-jerk reaction to defend Nicky. They were adults now, and shehadn’t actually said anything bad about him. Yet.

“I have to go,” Jasper said. “It’s getting dark and I’d liketo get home before it does. I’ll come see you soon, okay? You could maybe cometo Mass again some time.”