Page 63 of How to Be Remy Cameron

“And I love them!”

I look over at Ian: grin-scrunched eyes, fluffy green hair, and skin bronzed by orangey light. My stomach flips.

“What’s yours?” he asks.

We never break eye contact.

“Reese’s peanut butter cups.”

“The minis?”

I make a face and his cackle echoes through the entire neighborhood. “Full-size. Like me.”

This time, he makes a face—one of those “save the bullshit” faces.

“You?” I ask out of politeness, out of a sudden need.

“Candy corn.”

“Too sweet.”

Ian slows down; Willow mirrors him. “Too sweet?” He tips his head back and beams at the crescent moon. “Coming from the guy who takes his little sister trick-or-treating instead of partying with kids his own age?”

I’m not close enough to punch his shoulder but I telegraph it with fiercely squinted eyes.

“I think that’s pretty sweet,” says Ian. “Very sweet.”

I bite my thumbnail. “Pretty corny, Ian.”

“Candy-corn-corny?”

I choke-snort and cover my face. Ian freaking Park.

“Come on Spike Spielberg.”

“SpikeSpiegel,” Ian corrects me.

“Whatever you say, handsome.”

And… wait. Did that just come flying out of my mouth?

I blink so hard, everything in front of me turns red, yellow, and green. Then I chance a look at Ian. My moment of regret for having zero chill dies at the sight of Ian quietly observing Willow. She’s stopped in front of Mr. Ivanov’s house.

“Hey,” Ian says, hesitantly. “Can I hold your hand?”

The neighborhood is so noiseless. People are turning off their front-porch lights. One-by-one, Ballard Hills’ residents are saying goodnight to October.

Willow reaches up for Ian’s hand. She’s seven levels friendlier than I am when it comes to strangers, but she’s not big on physical contact. Willow doesn’t latch on to new people. I’ve always appreciated that, even if it meant she never connected with Dimi. Maybe Willow saw something I didn’t. Maybe younger siblings know a trash fire when it’s right in front of them.

But this just happens. Willow latches on. Ian swings their hands back and forth. I lead the way, wearing a dopey smile and overdosing on something way better than Reese’s.

“So.”

“So?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool.”

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