Crush Vision

Chapter 17

     Emmy dumps her bag on the floor, kicking off her shoes as she flops back on the couch. "Make yourself at home." She grabs the TV remote. "I recorded the first episode earlier this week; just give me a second to find it."

     "Alright." I set my backpack next to hers and glance at the keychain dangling on the outside zipper. The paint on the little dog looks a more worn than it used to be, the red heart faded in its mouth. Emmy cradles it in her fingers every time we ride the bus. I can't help wondering why she says it's her good luck charm, especially since—

    "Hey, do you have the recipe for that thing your mom made?" Emmy asks, cutting off my thoughts.

     I stare blankly. "What?"

     "The casserole thing," she crosses her legs. "From when..."

     "Oh," I interrupt as realization dawns on me. "Um, I don't know it, but I can send it to you later if you want."

   She nods. "Yeah, it was really good. I've been craving it for a while and I wanted to try making some."

    "I could probably just get my mom to do it—" I start to say, but Emmy shakes her head.

   "No it's fine. Besides, I don't want to cause you any trouble."

     "But you could never cause m—us any trouble," I protest.

     She just shrugs, half smiling as she scrolls through the DVR. "Okay."

     I sit next to her and feel her nearness all at once as I try to scoot away—Am I too close? Is this too awkward?—but I only succeed in sinking into the cushions.

     "Hey, how's your little brother doing?" Emmy speaks suddenly. "He's not mad, is he?"

     I turn to her. "What're you talking about?"

    She finds our show and begins fast-forwarding through the commercials. "Didn't you have to skip one of his games? Y'know, for the—"

    I wave my hand. "No big deal. He's old enough to understand what it means, and he didn't seem all that upset when I told him I was helping my friend who was really sad." I peek at Emmy's face out of the corner of my eye and scratch the back of my head. "He's kind of going through that phase he follows me around and tries to copy everything I do, which is why he's wanted me to come watch his games recently."

     Emmy's half-smile grows into a grin. "It's 'cause he looks up to his cool older brother."

     My face flushes. "Thanks."

     "Oh—there, it's starting." She clicks the remote, and the TV speed returns to normal.

     "I am glad you were there, though," she adds more softly, staring straight ahead at the screen.

    "Well, yeah, of course; I'd do it again if I had to." Heat surges in my cheeks as the words rush out of my mouth before I can think.

     Emmy smiles and shivers slightly. "Hey, real quick, can you hand me my jacket from over there?"

    I spot it draped across a chair. I lean over, grasping the soft fabric before tossing it to her. "Here you go."

     "Thanks, Henry." She catches it and cradles it to her chest.

     But from the look on her face, I don't think she's talking about the hoodie.