“Already in love with her, huh?” she said. I jerked my eyes away and thought about it. But there it was, that tiny heart space, already spreading out between us, my sister and me.”

“She wouldn’t even hold her own baby.” His voice cracked when he said that, and something shivered inside my heart. I used to think the saddest thing had happened to me, but now I knew it had happened to my sister instead.”

“I lifted my hand and pulled the blue paper cap back a little, until a piece of my red fell out, then I reached my hand back inside the case. I slid my finger under some tubes and into her tiny purple hand. And just like that, like she had known it was me all along, she squeezed it.”

“The lady shuffled around, bending over to inspect the flowers and holding up one of the tags. “Oh nuts. Are these already sold?” she asked. I shook my head. “No.” “Goody,” she smiled, looking at a tag that said Adulescenita Deferbui, on the outside and The Fires of Youth have Cooled – But you’re still looking foxy!”

“We turned away from each other at the same time, the space between us getting longer, until it looked like we hadn’t even been standing together in the first place. But we had, and it was there: another heart layer on top of that sidewalk, changing it forever.”

“You watch. Someday you’re going to love those freckles.” “No I’m not.” Mr. John leapt through the air after that, feet flailing and his back arched too far away from his knees: his worst one yet. After both of our ankles got splashed again, Grandma Bramhall picked up my chin and said, “You are as beautiful as your mom was,” and then kissed my cheek with hers. I looked down at the mirrors in her sarong again, tiny little pieces of blue sky in them. “Thanks,” I said quietly. “You’re welcome,” Grandma Bramhall said squeezing my hand. “How was that?” Mr. John yelled, popping up and dog paddling toward us. I snuck a look at Grandma Bramhall. “A ten,” I said. “Yes!” Mr. John yelled, raising both fists this time and sinking back into the water. Grandma Bramhall and I had to suck in our cheeks not to laugh. “See how beautiful you are, Apron?”

“What’s that?” he asked. “A picture of my mom,” I said, opening his ice-cold hand and putting the frame in it gently. “But Apron,” Chad said. “I can’t see.” “I know. But it’s not for now. It’s for when you get there, so you can find her.” Chad tapped his finger on my mom’s cheek. “Does she look like you?” I thought about it hard enough for Chad to take in another long breath. “A little bit,” I said. “Not quite as pretty?” “Well,” I said. “You’ll have to see for yourself.” Chad raised his eyebrows. “I’ll find her, Apron. I promise. If you promise me something, too.” I nodded, but then remembered he couldn’t see me. “What?” “Don’t stay sad. Remember our poem. What it means. Promise?”