Everyone We've Been by Sarah Everett Read Free Book Online Page B

mental imagery of either my brother or him in a leotard.
Ew.
Why did I say that?
    “Hold on, I’ll be right back,” I say.
    “No, look—” I miss the last of his protests as I race inside the house and set down my music binder. I find an ivy-green winter jacket hanging in the coat closet, still warm. Must be what Caleb just took off. He’s nowhere in sight, so I rush back out the front door.
    “Okay, you can probably return this tom—” My voice breaks off as I stare out at the empty driveway. I look right, then left, then right again, as if I’m getting ready to cross the road.
    Where did he go?
    I walk to the edge of the driveway and look to both ends of the street, but there’s no sign of him.
    I had so many questions for him.
    Who are you?
    Why do we suddenly keep running into each other?
    Once again, I didn’t even manage to get his name.
    I stand there, clutching my brother’s coat as my hands tingle with cold, and I can’t believe Bus Boy just left. All I can think is,
It felt like we were at the start of something.

BEFORE
Early July
    Every visit to At Home Movies feels like a continuation of the world’s longest-running discussion of horror parodies. I start by telling Zach my thoughts, and he counters, defends, concedes before we move on to the next movie. But on the fourth straight day I go into At Home Movies, return the latest DVD (plus its verdict), and await Zach’s newest recommendation, he leans across the counter on his elbows and looks at me instead.
    “What?” I ask, surprised. “No more Ciano movies? I thought there were way more than four.”
    “There are,” Zach says. “I just have a question for you.”
    My mouth goes dry as I wait for him to speak. What could he possibly want to ask me? Why does his complete and focused gaze, as if he’s scrutinizing something under a microscope, make me a little warm all over? I fold my arms against my chest to steady myself.
    “Feel free to say that I’ve made a hard-core horrody convert out of you, if it’s true,” Zach says, standing up to his full height again. “I’d
love
it if that’s true. But it just seems like you could be doing a million other things instead of indulging some random guy’s movie recommendations. If I didn’t have to work this summer, I’d be outside hiking and hanging out with my friends and…” He trails off, looking out through the glass doors of the store, and his lips twitch up before a warm laugh escapes him. I love the wide-open, carefree sound of it. Like it would never occur to him to contain it. I wish I laughed that way more often. “All right, watching movies. That’s what I’d be doing. But you seem cooler than me.”
    “Excellent,” I say. “Then I have you fooled.”
    Unfortunately, he’s still watching me, waiting for a real answer. So I sigh and sheepishly say, “My best friend kind of ditched me this summer. For a trip to New York via
everywhere else
that I was supposed to be on with her. She keeps texting and posting pictures online of how much fun they’re having. Like, she just sent me a picture of the amazing food they’re having for lunch.”
    One of Zach’s eyebrows skitters up; he does not look impressed. “What they’re having for lunch,” he repeats pointedly.
    “Yeah, but they’re, like, in the West Village.”
    He shakes his head and moves to type something on the computer behind the counter. “Have you ever noticed how rare it is that the thing people are doing that you’re jealous of is actually enviable, in and of itself? She’s eating
lunch.
”
    “Somewhere I’m supposed to be,” I add stubbornly. “Somewhere I would rather be.”
    “Okay,” Zach accepts. “Sometimes what they’re doing
is
cool. You get to ride in the president’s motorcade—fine, you win. But most of the time, people are doing completely mundane things and just making them seem better with their enthusiasm. It’s all in how you sell the story.”
    I laugh and shrug.