Page 43 of When You Wish Upon a Wideout

Somehow, I found my voice. “How many?”

“How many stars are in the sky?” he asked, tracing his words against my skin with his tongue.

“Too many to count.”

His breath was at my ear. “Somewhere around that,” Beau whispered, but before I closed my eyes when he kissed me again, I made my real wish.

I wished—from deep within my body sandwiched between him and the bed—that Beau would never stop.

Love,

Sienna

peanut butter and fluff

Dear Mom,

It hit me today that you aren’t going to be here for certain moments in my life. You won’t be there for my high school graduation. If I make it to college, that one either. You won’t be there to help me choose a prom dress. Those are big moments. Today wasn’t a big moment, but it was an important one. I could’ve used your help breaking the news to Dad.

“I’m going on a date with Beau Walker,” I announced, stepping into the kitchen. I tried tonotlook at Dad when I told him, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw his mouth hanging open, his hands holding a sandwich below his chin, like I had shocked him out of the next bite.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, this should be good,” Henry heckled

I ignored Henry. “He’s picking me up in twenty minutes.”

“Beau Walker?” Dad asked, dropping the sandwich and wiping mustard off his thumb with a napkin. “Like my wideout, Beau Walker.”

“Like Beau Walker who I’ve been friends with since I was five. The same one in Henry’s chemistry class. The Beau Walker who believes the only place raisins belong is in Raisin Bran—”

“Sienna—”

“And yes, Dad, your wideout. But I didn’t realize you had dibs.”

Henry stole some chips off Dad’s plate. “Oh, this is going to bereallygood.”

“Shut up, Henry,” Dad and I both said at the same time.

Dad stood. “I thought you and Beau were friends.”

“We are.”

“Friends don’t date.”

Friends don’t climb through each other’s windows and kiss in each other’s beds, either, which is what we’ve been doing for weeks. But Dad doesn’t need to know that.

“Henry, give us a second.” Dad tilted his head at the door when Henry didn’t make a move. “Get lost.”

Brushing crumbs from his hands, Henry left the table.

“Sienna,” Dad began. “Look, I know I probably haven’t been the most present father since we got here.” He paused, and I knew he wanted to add,or since your mom died, but he doesn’t.

I wanted to tell him I agreed. Dad hasn’t just been not present—he hasn’t been anywhere. Or at least anywhere but work. I wanted to point out the irony that he has probably spent more time with Beau between practice, film, and games than with me or Henry, but I didn’t.

“I don’t know if your mom... if she talked aboutboyswith you—”

“No. Please don’t.” This was more embarrassing than when he asked if I needed tampons from the store.

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