From the Jump(3)

“Huh.” Mac seemed to think about this for a moment. “But it’s so small. Her throat tube has to be bigger than that.”

Phoebe squinted.

Mac lifted his shoulders.

“Higher education is going to be good for you,” she pronounced.

Mac ran a hand through his shaggy blond hair, smiling sheepishly at Phoebe. “I know. I do dumb things sometimes. My mom says my enthusiasm carries me away.”

“You probably don’t want to start your college career talking about your mom,” Phoebe said.

“Right.” Mac nodded agreeably. His happy-go-lucky vibe was disarming.

Maybe it was because of that, or maybe Phoebe was simply too nice to continue giving him a hard time, but she smiled and added, “I get carried away sometimes, too.”

A wide smile split across his face. “You do?”

Phoebe held out a slender arm, pointing at the scar that sliced through her dark skin from wrist to elbow. Mac ran a finger along it, and I could’ve sworn I felt the air spark between them. Beside me, Deiss had moved away from Simone, but she was still peering at him from beneath lowered lashes. I wondered if I was witnessing the moment I lost my first two prospective college friends to their future boyfriends.

“I got this jumping off the roof with the wings I’d constructed from cardboard and pillow feathers,” Phoebe told him. “I really believed they’d make me fly. Broke it in three places.”

“That’s not stupid,” Mac said. “You have to be really smart to make your own wings.”

“Maybe,” she said. “But it was definitely stupid when I revised the wing design and broke my leg jumping off the roof a second time.”

Mac guffawed, and Phoebe grinned ruefully before slipping into laughter with him.

“We should do something,” Simone announced.

I looked to her, but she was singularly focused on Deiss. He glanced toward me and took another step back.

“All of us,” she added quickly. “I have the key to the rooftop pool at the Aqua. We could go swimming?”

“Let’s do it,” Mac said. He lifted Phoebe’s arm by the wrist and slapped his hand against hers in a high five.

“I’ll catch you back at the room later,” Deiss said to Mac, his eyes sliding past us. “I’ve got to get something to eat.”

“My family has a tab at the pool.” To her credit, Simone managed to keep the desperation out of her voice. But I could see it in the way she stared at the side of Deiss’s head, like she was trying to tunnel inside his brain and change his response. “And I guarantee the Aqua’s burgers are better than anything you can get on campus.”

Deiss shrugged, but his eyes brightened. “I do like a good burger. You up for it?”

I blinked at the realization that his question seemed to be directed toward me. Was he picking up on the pairing off that seemed to be happening? Was he hoping I’d be his buffer?

Did it matter? He clearly wanted me to go, and who was I to pass up the first college hangout I’d been invited to? At my nod, the line was abandoned and we were on our way to procure swimwear, like we were one big group. Apparently, that’s all it took to make friends in college: free food and the key to a pool.

I followed along, thrilled to be a part of something, not yet realizing how important we’d all become to each other. I had no idea that Phoebe and Mac would end up dating for the next six years. That Deiss, despite having what was rumored to be a very active sex life, would somehow always make his way back to us, almost every single day, without fail. That Simone’s fear of missing out would lead her to abandon her legacy status in Kappa Delta (or that she’d end up dragging us to all sorts of Greek events after her mother declared this resistance an unforgivable betrayal to the family name).

I was simply grateful to have found friends.

It took a year or two before I realized what I’d actually found was a family.





CHAPTER 1


It’s the third Thursday of the month. If I were asked to pick my favorite holiday, Christmas or Halloween wouldn’t even stand a chance. I’d choose a third Thursday every time. The first third Thursday of the year. The last. The third Thursday in April. They’re all winners. Third Thursdays are the day all five of us commit to venturing out of our neighborhoods and making our ways to each other. It’s my grounding post, the evening that saves me from feeling like my entire life is a role in a play with a rigid and repetitive script.

A Third Thursday is not a day to get caught up in the stresses of everyday life. Yet caught up is exactly what I seem to be. Actually, panicking is a more accurate description. I’ve had to pinch my wrist three times to stop myself from picking anxiously at the manicure I got during my lunch break. Take on a mountain of debt or give up my home. I twist the glass of chardonnay on the sticky high table I’ve scored, weighing the equally distressing options in my mind.

The busy bar buzzes around me, muddying my thoughts. Or maybe that’s the wine. I gave myself an hour and a half to get a handful of miles across town because that’s how you have to budget your time if you’re brave enough to attempt an exit from Santa Monica at the end of a workday. Shockingly, though, the roads chose today to be somewhat functional, and I arrived early enough to not only procure a table and drink but also make my way through most of a glass. It’s enough of a miracle that I pull out and reread the mostly memorized letter in case the date has miraculously been pushed back as well.