I take a glance down. Oh God. We’re super high up. “I’m afraid of heights,” I tell her, shrinking back.
“Since when?” she asks.
“Since I was seven years old and Harry Cheesewater pushed me off a jungle gym.”
“Oh yeah, you broke your arm, didn’t you?” She smiles. “And wasn’t his name Chesswater?”
“Lo made up his nickname.” Good times.
She snaps her fingers in remembrance. “That’s right. Lo put a firecracker in his backpack in retaliation.” Her smile fades. “I wish I had a friend like that.” She shrugs, as though that time has passed for her, but she’s still young. She can always grow closer to someone, but then again, with our mother dragging her every which way, she probably has less time for friends than any of us did. “Okay, enough Lo talk. He was supposed to be banned from the conversation tonight, remember?”
“Forgot,” I mumble. Most of my childhood stories involve him. I can count very few where he isn’t present. Family trips, he was there. Reunions, he was there. Calloway dinners, he was there. My parents might as well have adopted him. Hell, my grandmother bakes him her special fruitcake for no reason at all. She’ll mail it to him every so often. He charmed her somehow. I still think he gave her a foot massage or something nasty.
I squirm. Ew.
“Let’s play a game,” Daisy suggests with a giddy smile. “We’ll ask each other questions, and if we get them wrong, then the other person has to take a step towards the ledge.”
“Uhh…that doesn’t sound fun.” My fate will rest in her ability to answer a question.
“It’s a trust game,” she said, eyes twinkling. “Plus, I want to get to know you better. Is that so bad?” Now I can’t say no.
She’s testing me, I think.
“Fine.” I’ll make the questions easy so she’ll know the answer and I won’t have to feel my heart pop out of my chest.
She positions us so we stand maybe four feet from the ledge. Shit. This isn’t going to be fun. “What’s my birthday?” she asks me.
My arms suddenly heat. I know this. I do. “February…” Think Lily, think. Use those brain cells. “…twentieth.”
Her lips twitch into a smile. “Good, you’re turn.”
“When’s my birthday?”
“August first,” she says. She doesn’t even wait for me to tell her she’s right. She knows she is. “How many serious boyfriends have I had?”
“Define serious.” I don’t know this one. I truly do not. I wasn’t even aware she started dating until I heard Josh’s name thrown around while we were shopping for Charity Gala dresses.
“I brought them home to meet Mom and Dad.”
“One,” I tell her with a less-than-confident nod.
“I had two. Don’t you remember Patrick?”
I frown and scratch my arm. “Patrick who?”
“Redhead, skinny. Kind of immature. He used to pinch my butt, so I broke up with him. I was fourteen.” She takes a step closer to the ledge since I’m clearly the worst sister ever.
I sigh heavily, realizing it’s my turn. “Uhh…” I try to think of a good question, but they all contain Lo somehow. Finally I land on something semi-good. “What part did I play in the Wizard of Oz production?” I was only seven, and upon Lo’s request, his father pulled strings and took his son out of the performance so he didn’t have to play the Tin Man. Lo was so happy that he never had to rehearse with the class. He slept in the back of the room, his mouth hanging open, taking an extra nap time while we tried to memorize condensed, age-appropriate lines.
I miss him.
“You were a tree,” Daisy says with a nod. “Rose said you threw an apple at Dorothy and gave her a black eye.”
I point at her. “That was an accident. Don’t let Rose spread lies…” That story is in her arsenal to use against me, I swear.
Daisy tries to smile, but it’s a weak one. I can tell my relationship with Rose is something that upsets her, so I let my words taper off. She asks, “What do I want to be when I grow up?”
I should know this. Shouldn’t I? But I have absolutely no clue. “An astronaut,” I throw out.
“Nice try.” She takes a step forward. “I’m not sure what I want to be.”
I gawk. “That was a trick question. No fair.”
She shrugs. “Wish you thought of it first?”