“You can bring your dog along.”

  Surprised by the offer, her home was immaculate like a museum compared to his. “You sure?”

  “Yeah, he can play in the backyard. I’ll make Bri cleanup the dog poo.”

  Twain rarely rode in a vehicle, just once a year for his vaccines. He paced around the back between each window, a whimper with each lap. As they parked at her house, the dog went wild with excitement, and Sarah showed them the side gate and let him off. He ran, and didn’t stop for several minutes.

  Timothy watched his best friend run wild. “I need a bigger backyard.”

  “Just borrow mine.”

  She led him inside and up to her room. It had notebooks spread out on her bed, but it looked the same when he first visited. She plopped her bag on the mattress and leaned against her bed on the floor. She patted the floor next to herself, signaling Timothy where to sit. “The differences between urban and western literature in the late 1800s,” she said. “Thanks for getting these books.”

  “No problem.” He kept enough distance so her cheer practice outfit she wore—short gym shorts and a loose shirt draped over a shoulder, revealing a sports bra under her arm—didn’t touch his knee or have their elbows bump into one another.

  She intentionally kept it on, as flustering him became a new hobby of hers.

  “I guess we should find authors in the two different settings, and draw some differences?” Timothy said.

  “Great idea. Before cheer practice, I can find more resources and send them over to you. Then you type it up?”

  He nodded as they each took a book and began scouring the contents and finding any citations to use, as that was a big chunk of the assignment.

  After a while, Bri came into the room. “Dinner,” she said.

  Timothy looked at his phone, surprised at the time. “Sorry, I should’ve asked to go home earlier.”

  “Nah,” she got up. “You’re my guest.”

  Timothy wiggled into the same spot at the large table between Bri and Sarah. Their dad sat at the head, and Mrs. Carr prepared the spaghetti with garlic bread and a salad. Everyone waited for the mom to be seated, and Mr. Carr rolled up his business shirt sleeves before digging in.

  “How’s the report?” The mom asked.

  “Good,” Sarah said, and Timothy nodded along. “Real exciting stuff.” She took another bite.

  With a beat of silence, Timothy looked at Bri. “Any exciting school assignments?”

  She hadn’t realized he was talking to her. “Me? Why do you care?”

  He lifted his hands up as if the police caught him in the midst of an act. “Just asking.”

  “Bri,” their mom said. “Be nice.”

  Timothy tried again. “So, any exciting assignments?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Not really.”

  “I took an intro to programming class one semester there. Did you do that?”

  She pulled out her phone and began scrolling. “I have that now. It’s weird.”

  Mr. Carr chimed in. “It’s not that weird!”

  She tugged on her hoodie drawstring as she continued her focus on her phone. “See what I mean.”

  The parents gave each other a funny look, keeping a sense of humor about their thirteen-year-old.

  “It helped me with programming my synthesizer.”

  “Cool.” She didn’t look up.

  Sarah patted him on the shoulder. “You’ll get her next time, bucko.”

  After everyone finished, and against their mom’s wishes, he helped clean the plates before Sarah drove him home.

  As Sarah pulled the car out of the driveway, he said, “I hope I didn’t upset your sister.”

  She turned past the gate once it opened with her keycard. “Yeah, you do try to talk to my sister a lot. Anything you’d like to tell me?” She gave a strong accusation.

  “I don’t think so.”

  She leaned to him, still keeping her eyes on the road. “You sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  She smiled, it reminded her of their earlier interactions of him having only one-word responses, he’s changed. “My kid sister and I are more alike than you think.”

  He didn’t believe that for a second. Sarah was all overly affectionate. Showed as much skin as she could, but her kid sister opted to wear light hoodies and jeans and never once looked him in the eye or acknowledged his existence unless he spoke to her. He chuckled.

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  “You don’t believe me?”

  “Nope.”

  “I did the same thing at her age.” She gave an amorous look. “Negative attitude to hide having a crush.”

  “I don’t know about that.” He said. “No one has ever had a crush on me before.”

  “Me!” She whacked his shoulder. “Me. I have a crush on you.” She straightened the wheel as she nearly swerved into the opposing lane. “Timmy, dude, pay attention.”

  “As soon as you pay attention to the road!”

  She stopped herself from pointing out that he made a joke. Awkward car rides from a few weeks ago grew more fun and comfortable by the day. But one thing she’s noticed about riding with Timothy is that he’s never on his phone, she assumed it’s because no one messages him, but it was something she appreciated. Her cellphone has buzzed three times since she got in the car. It still takes willpower not to check it, to give Timothy the same respect he inadvertently gives her.

  She pulled up, and Twain got excited as Timothy let him out. “Tomorrow morning?” she said.

  “Yeah.”

  ***

  The week passed and they finished the report, picking Twain up each day after Sarah’s extracurriculars, eating dinner at her place, reading, writing, and teasing, except for Friday. Timothy watched the football game for Sarah.

  The following Sunday, Sarah received a text message.

  “I have an appointment for jaw surgery. Tomorrow afternoon.”

  She stepped aside from the friends who were still talking to her. “That’s great,” she texted back.

  “It’ll take several days to recover in the hospital, and I won’t be able to move my jaw for a while.”

  Surprised, she typed. “Really?”

  “Yeah, big surgery.”

  She wasn’t aware of the ramifications of a jaw surgery, assuming it was no big deal. “Had no idea.”

  The girls teased her, asking if it was her boyfriend, as most of those she interacts with sat in her room. She assured them it was no one, trying to keep everything private. One paused the movie they were watching. “Wait, who are you really texting?” One about climbed her back to get a better view of the phone.

  Her text got scrambled from the chaos, and Timothy received many letters and numbers. Followed by a “Sorry.”

  The group of friends at her place has diminished. More splintered with Alicia than with Sarah. However, it gives Sarah more time with individuals, as opposed to small talk with many people during a gathering or party. It’s been a nice change of pace, a lot like talking with Timothy 1 on 1, and it’s easier to get to know someone.

  And now she’s learning more about her smaller group of friends.

  “Wait,” someone said. “Timothy?”

  She brought the phone tight against her chest to hide it. “Maybe.”

  The collective gasp turned to a dogpile on Sarah as one managed to pry the phone away.

  “She is texting Timothy.”

  “Those rumors are true?”

  She managed to crawl out from under two of them. “Which rumors?”

  “Someone said you two are banging. We all saw you guys leave homecoming together, and we know you drove him. But weren’t you being nice? You’re nice to everyone.”

  She sneered at her. “Not just being nice, and I haven’t made that much progress… yet.”

  “Wow,” one girl chimed in. “Timothy, wow. I heard he liked anime girls.”

  “I heard he killed his dad.”

  Sarah rolled her eyes. “I know.” She began texting him again. “And I’d appreciate it if you stop spreading rumors about him.”

  Atmospheric pressure is hard to notice, unless an open door slams shut on its own. As she responded to Timothy, the room was silent. A collective thought, why? Timothy? Really?

  “Liam and Alicia haven’t quite hooked up yet. You can still get him back.”

  Sarah sent her text, then said. “I don’t care.”

  The girls spread out a bit. One got up and got herself a glass of water. Another went to the bathroom. Pretend phone scrolling with the other three. Eventually, an excuse came out from one girl to leave her home, which opened the door for others to do the same.

  Sarah closed the door as the last girl left. Each girl drove away in a nice car that her parents lent them. If one didn’t know any better, her small get-together might have looked like a meeting of executives, but they were all owned by the girl's parents, who worked at Carr Ware. After a long sigh, she crashed on the couch. Nothing. No one. Time passed, and she got up and cleaned the plates and glasses around the smaller living room reserved for guests.

  Is this what it’s like for Timothy? She couldn’t help feeling the loneliness. Except that he experienced it every day, in class surrounded by his peers, walking dogs alone for work. He had nothing, no one, in every aspect of his life.

  Social media didn’t make her feel any better. Two million followers, likes, hearts, and messages of love and confessions filled her feed. It all felt empty. They always have, but people always surrounded her, so she never relied on social media. A new set of clothes from one of her sponsors was placed ready on her bed, probably by her mom. Might as well.

  After setting up the tripod in her room and taking some photos. Downward dog, situps, splits, and other yoga poses. She adjusted the lighting and did some more. Mostly a variety of yoga poses. A video of jumping jacks to show how supportive the sports bra is.

  And then she decided to send her defunct photos to Timothy. The downward dog. She catches him staring at her chest all the time, so she might as well send him what he might like.

  She sent a downward dog photo, trying to get the sexiest photo she could send him.

  “What do you think?” Her text said.

  “I’m too afraid to answer that question.”

  She sent a laughing emoji. And followed with, “Please don’t put that online, my client won’t appreciate that.”

  “Sure thing.” He sent her. “Can I send you a sexy photo?”

  Bolting off the ground from a near instant panic, she responded. “Hell yeah.”

  She paced about with her phone glued to her face. After several laps around her room, the phone buzzed again with the photo. Twain was stretching, the stretch that inspired the downward dog yoga position. She chuckled and slapped her forehead. And she couldn’t stop laughing. It was unlike anything she had ever received in a text. All the other boys, whether she’s known them or not, sent dick pics. None worth writing home about. She knew Timothy wouldn’t send something like that, but his humor sent her reeling.

  “I’ll print it out and tape it into my locker,” she texted. “Want to come over tonight? Have dinner again?”

  With their paper finished and ready to be turned in on Monday, she missed spending time outside school with him, wishing they weren’t so efficient.

  “Can’t. Surgery tomorrow, so I’m already studying ahead and doing some homework.”

  “Do you need to walk any dogs soon?”

  “Yeah, one this evening.”

  “Can I come?”

  As she sent the text, Bri came in. “Your friends left.”

  “Yup.”

  The younger sister stood in the entryway of the large living room, her eyes wandering as she waited.

  Sarah rolled over onto her stomach, perturbed. “Yes?”

  Bri tapped her heels. “Want to go shopping again?”

  With a sigh, Sarah said. “We went yesterday.” Her phone buzzed. “Besides, it’s a school night and I have plans later.”