Page 65 of Friends with Benefits

Theo, oblivious to their entire wordless conversation, says, “I added us to the virtual queue forDr. Strange in the Hundred Acre Wood.”

Imogen’s eyes snap toward his. “Holy shit. Yougot in?”

Theo frowns at his phone, then shows his screen to Gen. “I think so?”

Evie’s grateful for the subject change, until an hour or solater, when she learns against her will that this is part of the next phase of the MCU. Musical crossovers. It’s a fever dream, the entire production. Imogen loves it. “According to Jo, a Broadway transfer is, like, inevitable,” she says.

Jo, better known as @johanna_ever_after, is Imogen’s favorite Disney influencer.

Theo’s eyebrows rise. He mouths.Disney Adult.

Evie stifles a laugh. He’s right. Her sister is a Disney Adult. Evie loves Imogen’s unapologetic enthusiasm for the things that bring her joy. Imogen gushes over the power ballad between Dr. Strange and Eeyore, then speed walks ahead toward a gift shop that’s dropping a limited-editionDr. Strange in the Hundred Acre Wood: The Musicalpin. Evie and Theo follow, continuing to go wherever Imogen leads. Evie attempts to keep up—with the pace, the conversation—until she feels fatigue from the heat, from herfeelings, seep into her bones. A reminder that this tradition takes a toll on her body. A promise that she’ll spend tomorrow horizontal. She pushes sweaty bangs off her forehead. Puts one foot in front of the other. Fades. It’s a classic feature of Evie’s particular brand of Crohn’s. Being fine until she’s not.

“Theo?”

He doesn’t ask what she needs.

Just squats low enough for her to climb onto his back and it is instant relief, being off her feet.

Her mouth hovers in front of his ear. “Thanks.”

“Always.”

Imogen burns out by 2:00 p.m.—right on schedule—then sleeps through the entire ride back to Pasadena. Theo drives. As soon as Imogen starts to snore, Evie’s cue that it is safe to speak, she word vomits her sister’s news and every complicated fucked-up feeling about it.

“It’s just so…Imogento jump into something so reckless so soon.”

Theo shrugs. “I think it’s brave.”

“You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“There are sides?”

Instead of responding, she opens Instagram. It’s a mistake. The first photo she sees is a post from Naomi’s account of Margot, her sister, in a blue Burberry peacoat, skipping through Central Park, with a caption that reads,tons to be thankful for #burberrykidsxbluey. Margot looks so much like Imogen at that age it hurts. Strawberry-blond curls. Piercing blue eyes. Evie is so angry. So incredibly jealous.

It’s fierce, irrational.

Naomi is not a good mother.

Evieknowsthis.

But it’s just like Theo says, knowing isn’t accepting.

A memory surfaces. Thanksgiving. She’s eight. Imogen is six, the exact age Margot is now. Evie doesn’t remember what they were arguing about. Her and Gen. Barbies? A stolen shirt? The TV remote? Does it matter? She rarely remembers the trigger, just the reaction.Why are you doing this to me?Their dad was on a research trip in Nicaragua. Unreachable. Naomi locked herself in her bathroom. Unreachable. Evie pounded on the door. Begged Naomi to come out, tears streaming down her cheeks. Smoke alarms sounded. Downstairs, Imogen tried to salvage the charred turkey. But it was too heavy. The turkey. The ceramic Dutch oven that held it. Evie heard a scream, a shatter. Silence. Then the softclickof a lock. Naomi exited the bathroom. Evie followed her downstairs. Pled.I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Her mother took in the mess, the disaster, the catastrophe that she created, said,I need a beat, then plucked her keys off the table. There was no one to call—their dadwas a continent away, their grandparents in Atlanta, where Mo was contracted to build sets for a popular zombie show. So Evie cleaned up the mess. Kept Imogen fed and distracted until Naomi returned two days later with Barbies, with candy, with empty promises.

At eight, Evie already knew not to trust Naomi’s promises.

Imogen has a crescent moon scar on her left wrist from where ceramic burned her skin. In the rearview mirror, she watches her sister’s chest rise and fall, so proud of them for reclaiming this day and creating memories that aren’t completely fucked. Could this be their last Disney Thanksgiving? It hurts too much to think that far ahead, to consider what it means if her sister really, truly puts an entire mountain range between them.

“That’s Margot?”

Stopped in traffic on I-5, Theo’s eyes shifted to her screen.

“Yeah.”

“She’s getting big.”

Evie has the opposite reaction to the photo.

---