The Infinite Moment of Us by Lauren Myracle Read Free Book Online Page B

the
    straw with her mouth, and took a long sip, even though her
    own cup was still nearly full.
    “Hey,” P.G. protested.
    Tessa kept sucking. She smiled from around the straw
    and batted her eyelashes, and P.G. raked a hand through
    his hair.
    Wren knew the feeling. Tessa could be annoying and
    lovable at the same time. She was kind of like a Muppet.
    “Don’t worry,” Wren told P.G. “You’ll get used to it.”
    The tips of P.G.’s ears turned red. He tried, visibly, to
    reclaim his slick veneer, then gave up and laughed.
    Wren laughed, too.
    “What?” Tessa said. She glanced from Wren to P.G.
    “What’s so funny?”
    “Oh, Tessa, I’m going to miss you,” Wren said.
    “I’m going to miss you, too, you big dummy.” She flicked

    Wren’s arm. “But we have the whole summer ahead of us.”
    “You’re right,” Wren said.
    “Anyway, sure, we’re going our separate ways”—she
    didn’t mention Guatemala in front of P.G.—“but none of
    us will be gone forever ,” she said. She put her hands on the table. “ This is our home.”
    “El Elegante?” Wren said.
    “Ha-ha. Atlanta’s our home, because we grew up here,
    and that will never change.”
    “Do you really think that?” Wren said. She wasn’t trying
    to mess with Tessa. She was honestly trying to figure out
    what she thought. What did home really mean, especially if a person chose, on purpose, to leave it? “You think that
    wherever you grow up, that’s your home, by default?”
    “Of course I think that,” Tessa said. “Don’t you?”
    “I don’t know.”
    Tessa stuck out her tongue, and Wren had a small epiph-
    any. Tessa, who had always been there for Wren, needed
    Wren to be there for her, too. Maybe all that confidence
    Wren assumed Tessa had was a little bit of an act. Maybe,
    with graduation a day away, Tessa wanted the world to be
    big enough to move around in but not big enough to get
    lost in. Wren, on the other hand, secretly wanted to get lost, or was already lost, or something.
    “Home is where the heart is,” P.G. said expansively.
    “Damn straight,” Tessa replied. “Go big or go home.”

    “Home is where you can pee with the door open,” P.G.
    added. He lifted a finger. “Wait, wait . . . die like a hero
    going home.”
    “Home wasn’t built in a day,” Tessa countered, and P.G.
    high-fived her.
    Wren racked her brain for a home quote. “Oh!” she said.
    “There’s no place like home?”
    “Exactly!” Tessa said. She clapped. “Oh my God, I love
    that movie, and, yes, that’s ex act ly what I’m trying to say.
    So let’s click our ruby slippers and say it together.” She
    held out her hands. Wren took one and P.G. took the other,
    but only P.G., looking amused, chanted along: “There’s no
    place like home. There’s no place like home. There’s no
    place like home.”

    c h a p t e r f o u r
    Getting Dev’s wheelchair into Chris and Pamela’s
    converted Dodge Caravan wasn’t easy. Dev bore the pro-
    cess without complaining, but Charlie knew Dev hated it.
    Hated that it had to be done with the garage door open, so
    that the neighbors and anyone walking by could see. Hated
    Chris’s grim determination as he muscled the wheelchair
    up the ramp and through the not-quite-wide-enough side
    door. Most of all, Charlie knew how much Dev hated
    Pamela’s concern.
    No. What Dev hated was being the cause of Pamela’s
    concern, even if it wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t chosen to be

    paralyzed.
    Charlie understood completely.
    “Careful!” she exclaimed. “Honey, don’t—” She craned
    and fluttered. “Honey, you’re going to scrape his arm!”
    “Mom, chill,” Dev said. Unlike Charlie, he did call
    their foster parents Mom and Dad. Maybe because he was
    younger? Chris and Pamela wanted both boys to call them
    Mom and Dad. Charlie just couldn’t.
    With Charlie’s help, Chris got the wheelchair into the
    van and oriented it so that Dev was facing forward.
    “Safe and sound,” Dev