It was the beginning of October, and little by little, the world began to find its rhythm again.
That morning, the five of us were gathered in the school cafeteria: Cher, Regina, Carly, Freddie, and me. Sam had gone to get food.
Pippa walked past the cafeteria entrance and spotted us. She gave me a quick "Hi, Jake," followed by a more general, "Hey, everyone," directed at the rest of the table. Then, without stopping, she continued on her way to the classroom.
After seeing Pippa greet me, Carly leaned in.
"You and Pippa?"
"We're friends. I didn't even flirt with her," I said.
Carly looked at me, suspicious. Freddie was busy texting a message, while Cher and Regina were deep in a different conversation.
Sam appeared with a piece of bread in her hand.
"What's the conversation?" she asked.
"That I'm just friends with Pippa," I replied.
Sam looked surprised. "That is... actually true! You're all friendly talk, but not a single flirt. Why wouldn't you do that? You don't want to kiss her? She is kinda cute."
"No, I wouldn't mind kissing her. But why are you saying it like I'm some Casanova?" I said, sounding like I was being wronged.
Regina turned her attention to us.
"Maybe because he was spending his time with Jessica or Jeniffer."
"...And Mandy," added Cher.
"How do you know about Mandy? That was yesterday..." I asked, surprised.
"We girls talk," said Cher, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Only been a month and you already kissed three girls?" asked Sam deadpan.
"Not at the same time," I replied with a poker face, "and they all know about it."
"Jeniffer even said she wanted to do something different from Jessica (about the date)," I added. "And Mandy kissed me from the beginning, saying she was dying to know if it was true?!" I said weirdly.
Cher whispered, "I might have gossiped that you kiss very well."
I laughed. "Now makes sense. I'm liking you even more, Cher."
Carly and Sam still looked me deadpan.
The bell rang, echoing through the halls, and everyone stood up from the table, heading off toward class.
When we entered the classroom, Ms. Ackerman was already inside, organizing some papers. As we all settled into our seats, she began calling our names one by one, returning the graded tests from earlier in the week.
The first one from our group to be called was Sam. She returned to her seat a moment later and said, "All Cs."
I nodded, not thinking much of it.
Then Pippa was called. She quietly returned to her seat without saying anything. I didn't pay it much attention, but Sam stood up and went over to peek at Pippa's paper.
"Three As and a B," Sam announced. "Yep, we have another Freddie and Carly here."
She glanced again. "And your name is really Pippa."
Pippa and I both looked at her strangely.
"What? I thought it was another nickname besides Pip," Sam said defensively.
"Well, it could be a nickname for Phillipa, but no—my name is just Pippa," she smiled.
That reminded me of the day I was talking to Dad and Uncle Charlie about the new girls in my class. Uncle Charlie, of course, had taken the opportunity to explain the (slang) meaning of 'pippa' in other languages—Swedish and Italian.
Later that day, out of curiosity, I looked it up myself. And yep—he was right. In Swedish, it could mean "sex," and in Italian, "hand job."
And to my surprise, without one of the P's, "pipa" could mean "kite" or "wine barrel" in Portuguese. Should I study more Portuguese? (I'm fluent in Spanish and intermediate in both Portuguese and French.)
Then the professor called my name. I stood up, walked to the front, took the tests from her hands, and returned to my seat.
Before I sat down, Sam leaned over to glance at my papers. "All A+. No surprises..."
"But still surprises me," said Pippa. "You basically sleep, text on your phone, or read during class."
"That is a lie," I replied.
Pippa glared at me.
"I also eat, and I pass notes to you and Sam. Sometimes I even write a little," I added with a smirk.
Pippa shook her head. "And amazes me that you can say it with a straight face."
"I don't see any problem," I said, then turned my head to Sam.
"Me neither," Sam agreed.
Pippa just scoffed.
Then my phone buzzed again. The first message had come earlier from Pepper: Two more artists signed with us—Ashanti and Jason Mars. I had already replied: Amazing job.
It felt like playing Pokémon in real life. I'm gonna catch them all! (Pepper would hit me if I ever said that to her.)
Now a new one from Anthony popped up: All done. 30%, $690M, average cap $2.3B. We'll have to inform the market.
I replied: Amazing job.
Anthony must have been buying for days. Now, a Schedule 13D needs to be filed with the SEC (because of 30%. It was needed since we got 5%).
The next class had started, and I ended up taking a nap. I was woken up during the break by Cher and Regina.
I blinked a few times and looked up at them. "What are you two doing here?"
"We have a problem," Cher said seriously.
Regina nodded.
Cher continued, "My mother decided to throw a party on Halloween."
"And my house will be filled with preparations for my birthday," Regina added. "So we can't make a party there."
I looked weirdly at Regina. "Your birthday's is November 12th, right?"
"Glad you remember. And yes, but it's too close—too little time between one party and another," Regina replied.
I shook my head but said, "So... Malibu house or Santa Monica?"
The two of them looked at each other.
"Santa Monica," Cher answered. "We can invite more people, and it's easier for everyone to get there."
"Done," I said simply. Then I turned to Regina. "By the way, what do you prefer as a birthday present—Porsche 911 or Lexus SC430?"
"By the way, what do you prefer as a birthday present—Porsche 911 or Lexus SC430?"
She had that thoughtful look she wore when picking outfits—or plotting.
"That is a difficult choice," she finally said. "Love Porsche, but Lexus is also good and more useful for day-to-day."
"Why don't you choose the Lexus and ask your dad for the Porsche?" Cher suggested.
"Brilliant idea, Cher," Regina said, turning to me. Then she smiled. "So, a Lexus. If possible, a light pink one."
She leaned closer and whispered in my ear, "Can you make her sign it?"
I understood instantly—she meant Britney. She wanted the car autographed.
I nodded. "Can be done."
"Love you, Jake!" Regina exclaimed and gave me a big hug.
Cher raised an eyebrow. "I want one too."
"Yours is on December 10th, right?" I asked.
Cher nodded.
"Done. Might as well buy them all now," I said with a grin.
Cher hugged the other side of me.
Then Sam chimed in. "How about me?"
"Not a chance. You having a car, Sam, is a burden to society. You might end up running someone over—and not by accident. I don't want to be the one who made that possible. Choose another present."
Sam thought for a moment. "A year of all-you-can-eat chicken and bacon."
"Done," I said.
"And snacks. Like, a lifetime supply."
"Also done," I replied.
Sam grinned and hugged me from behind.
Now I had Regina on one side, Cher on the other, and Sam wrapped around the back.
Carly and Freddie walked over from the front row. Carly looked at the scene and laughed. "What is this? Jake's hugging day?"
"Yep, come in here," I said, motioning for her to join the group hug.
"Noo," Carly replied playfully, backing up a little.
"I'm buying a car for them," I said, looking at her and Freddie. "What kind of car would you two want?"
They both stared at me, surprised.
"You buying Sam a car?" Carly asked.
"No, better. He will buy me food," Sam replied proudly.
"Thank God," Carly said with mock relief. "I don't want to go see Sam in juvie... again."
Carly chuckled, then added, "But a car..."
"Come on, Carly," I said, half-smiling. "I will buy cars for these two."
"How about a Mini Cooper?" Carly offered with a hopeful grin.
"That's okay. But I'm buying Lexus SC430s for these two. Mini is much simpler," I pointed out.
"I'm okay with a Mini. I don't need a fancy car," Carly said with a shrug.
I nodded and looked at Freddie, who seemed thoughtful.
"I don't know if my mom will let me drive..." he said uncertainly.
Sam cut in immediately. "Why don't you grow some—what's it called—balls?!"
Freddie frowned. "Shut up Sam!"
The two of them started bickering while the rest of us laughed.
Freddie finally shrugged. "Can I think about it? My birthday's only in February anyway."
I just nodded to him.
The classroom door opened and the teacher walked in. Cher and Regina each gave me a kiss on the cheek and left without a hint of embarrassment.
Still clinging to me from behind, Sam didn't move.
The teacher gave her a long look and sighed. "Ms. Puckett..."
Sam let go reluctantly and went to her seat.
A moment later, a folded piece of paper landed on my desk. I unfolded it.
Are you buying 4 cars???
I looked over at Pippa, who was staring back at me, wide-eyed.
I tore a piece of paper from my notebook and scribbled back:
Believe me, the most expensive one is Sam's. I don't know how, but that girl eats a lot.
Pippa read the note, raised an eyebrow, and gave me a weird look.
I just nodded like it was the most natural thing in the world.
A few moments later, another note reached my desk.
Either way. That is a lot of money...
I wrote back quickly:
I'm the prodigal son.
Lie. But no need to say the truth. If I bought everything today, tomorrow I'd already have more money than I had before buying the gifts. I'm basically printing money...
Lost in Translation, surprisingly, had benefited from the aftermath of the attack. Since many studios decided to postpone their film releases—some even pulling theirs entirely due to the Twin Towers appearing in many scenes—our film, set in Japan, felt distant enough to not remind viewers of the tragedy. In fact, part of the audience simply wanted a temporary escape.
And unlike what happened during COVID, nothing had truly shut down. Cinemas were still open. People still sought entertainment—even if the numbers had dropped and watching at home had become more popular.
Then another note came. The envelope was marked: To Sam, but you can read.
I opened it before passing it along. Inside, it read:
Did you go to juvie prison???
I nudged Sam and handed her the note. She read it, then leaned forward, looking straight at Pippa, and raised a single finger in response (one time).
Pippa couldn't help herself and whispered, "What did you do?"
But before Sam could answer, the teacher said, "Ms. Fitz-Amobi, could you answer this question?"
Pippa blinked. "Hum?"
I leaned in and whispered, "Four."
"Four," Pippa repeated aloud.
The teacher nodded. "It is correct. Four times."
Pippa looked at me, surprised, but I was already texting on my phone.
A message from Britney popped up: Are you really releasing 5 songs today?
Me: Yes, for my new album.
Britney: But you released one already 2 months ago!!! Shouldn't you be doing a tour?!
Me: I had another idea.
Britney: What kind of idea?
Me: Not just a show. I'm planning a full two-day festival. Will be named Tomorrowland. 150,000 people each day, full production, global coverage. We'll release everything now to build hype, and that festival will be the ultimate explosion.
Britney: lol, you kidding???
Then another message followed quickly:
Britney: Let me in! Let me in!
Me: You can be part of it, but you need to change the beat of your songs. It's an EDM (Electronic Dance Music) festival. You can sing my songs or remix yours to fit.
Britney: Why not both?
Britney and I kept exchanging messages. In just a few months since we met, we'd become good friends.
She's funny and genuinely nice—a far cry from the chaotic image I had of her in my past life. Maybe it's because she hasn't yet run into the tabloid storms (I'm still not sure how true those stories about heavy drug use were, but if she ever starts heading down that path, I'll do my best to stop it).
She's just a little needy, that's all.
After class ended, I announced to the whole group that there would be a Halloween party at my house in Santa Monica.
Then Cara came over to talk with Pippa. But before that, she turned to me with a smile.
"Hey Jake, we sure will go to your party!" she exclaimed, placing an arm around Pippa.
Pippa agreed with a small nod.
I smiled back and replied, "Great, you are all welcome!"
Cara turned to Pippa, visibly excited.
"I can't wait to get home and listen to Marshmello's new songs! According to what my sister texted me, it's five tracks. Their names are: Something Just Like This (Chainsmokers), Don't Let Me Down (Chainsmokers), A Sky Full of Stars (Coldplay), I'm Good (David Guetta), and Time of Our Lives (Pitbull)."
I smirked and said, "The first one is by far the best."
"You already heard it?" Cara asked, a little astonished—considering the songs had only dropped two classes ago.
Pippa turned to me and glared. "Jake does everything during class... except pay attention to it."
I gasped, "How could you say that, Pip?"
---
After school, I headed back to the Malibu house.
As I stepped through the front door, I heard Charlie call out from the living room, "Hey, Jake. Do you remember Lisa?"
I turned and saw a beautiful blonde girl standing beside him.
"Yes, last Thanksgiving. Lisa Geller. Or whatever surname you have now..." I said, trailing off as I remembered she was supposed to be getting married.
"Good to see you again, Jake," Lisa replied with a smile.
"And her surname will be back to Geller," Uncle Charlie added with a smirk.
I raised an eyebrow and gave a charming grin. "Soo, what happened?"
Lisa glared at Charlie. "What are you teaching this boy?"
Apparently, I asked the same question and in the exact same tone as my uncle...
"Nothing. He didn't learn that from me..." Charlie said, hands up in mock innocence.
Still, Lisa answered, "I thought he was the sweetest guy in the world... but after we got married, he changed. He started drinking a lot and lying around the house all day. And then I caught him in the shower with some bimbo."
"Some guys, huh?" I muttered, sneaking a look at Uncle Charlie.
"Yeah. If I wanted that kind of life, I could have stayed with your uncle," Lisa finished.
I murmured, "And yet you're here..."
Then added, "With my uncle, it would be much better. He's still a funny guy. And you wouldn't catch him in the shower with some bimbo—"
Lisa looked at me suspiciously, not believing the last part.
I explained, "—we have security now, so I'd warn him before you could catch him in the act."
Lisa glared at me, while Charlie gave a neutral, "Thank you," not quite sure what to think about the last part.
Then we heard the sound of a baby crying. I looked around and spotted a baby in a carrier seat by the couch.
"This is?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"That's my angel," Lisa replied sweetly.
I leaned slightly toward Charlie and murmured, "That's not yours, right?"
"No!" both Lisa and Charlie answered at the same time.
Then Charlie turned to her. "No?"
"NO!" Lisa repeated, louder.
"Hey, I'm not judging," I added quickly, raising my hands. "And from what you told me, your ex-husband can't either..."
We chatted a bit more, then Lisa and Uncle Charlie headed out to her place.
I made my way to the other room and flopped down on the couch to watch some TV.
On the screen, the presenter was speaking energetically. "Marshmello released another five songs, and they are already flooding our radio stations. Can he even become more popular?" he asked rhetorically.
Then he turned to the commentator.
"Yes, John. He's not giving anyone else a chance anymore. He keeps releasing song after song after song... How can other artists even compete with that?"
He continued, "And it feels like déjà vu—reminds me of the first time he dropped five songs all at once at the beginning.
Last week, when I went out to a club, I basically heard only two songs that weren't his: 'One More Time' by Daft Punk and 'Played-A-Live (The Bongo Song)' by Safri Duo. He's basically monopolizing the genre.
If in the last decade electronic music broke into the mainstream with artists like The Prodigy, Daft Punk, Fatboy Slim, and Chemical Brothers—today, one name alone seems to represent the entire revolution."
The presenter jumped back in, "Now the term 'Electronic Dance Music'—EDM—has become widely popular. It's even printed on Marshmello's album cover."
"Yes," the commentator added, "It refers to a type of electronic music made specifically for dancing, often with a pop edge. Marshmello didn't invent the term—it existed before him—but it's undeniable: if someone wants to explain what EDM is nowadays, there's no way to do it without mentioning his name."
I turned off the TV and decided to head to the house in Santa Monica. Uncle Charlie had left with Lisa, and my dad wasn't expected back until late anyway.
I saw the incoming call—it was Missy. I picked up.
"Hey Jake."
"Hello Missy."
"How you doing?" she asked.
"Great, but not better than you, from what I can hear on your side." I could hear music in the background—it sounded like she was at a party.
"Yeah... but I need your help. I don't know anyone else who can help."
"Okay… I'm listening."
"Paige is here. She's drunk, she's high, and from what Sheldon told me, she said her life is terrible. I'm trying to find her, but I don't know what to do after…"
I paused for a moment, thinking about it, then replied, "I can help. Where are you?"
"Near Caltech."
"I'll be there in about forty minutes. I'm in Santa Monica."
---
I told Mom I was helping a friend and would head to Malibu afterward. I got into my four-seater car with two bodyguards. Another two were driving the Rolls-Royce behind us. Plus, we had a van with four more. Since I got richer, I increased the number of bodyguards. For the company, I kept eight—Pepper had four. 24 hours a day.
"They're over there," I said when I spotted Missy and Sheldon.
The driver parked nearby, and I stepped out.
"Hello guys."
"Jake!" Missy said with a smile.
"What is he doing here?" Sheldon muttered to Missy.
"Good to see you too, C-3PO," I said casually.
"I called him," Missy replied, then came over and hugged me. "Thanks for coming."
"So, where's Paige?" I asked.
"We found her, then lost her again…" Missy said, looking frustrated.
"What was she wearing?" I asked Sheldon, knowing his eidetic memory would kick in.
"Burgundy top, had a plaid jacket tied around her waist, some sort of necklace..."
"Okay, that's enough." I grabbed my walkie-talkie and repeated Sheldon's description to the team. "Start searching for her."
Missy gave me a questioning look.
"I came with bodyguards—they'll find her."
"So, what are you doing here, Missy?" I asked while we waited.
"A friend of mine has a sister studying near here. She invited us to the party," Missy explained.
"And your parents let you come?" I raised an eyebrow.
"No. I said I was sleeping over at Heather's place."
"Classic," I said with a smirk.
A few minutes later, my walkie-talkie buzzed.
"Looks like they found her," I said. "She's in front of a house nearby."
---
When I arrived, I saw a guy talking to Paige.
"Hey, do you know how old she is?" I asked the guy.
"She said she was eighteen," he replied.
"Try lower."
"Sixteen?"
"Lower."
"I gotta go," the guy said and quickly vanished.
"Why did you do that?" Paige asked.
"Hello to you too, Paige," I said. "You messed with me on my 13th birthday. Now we're quits," I shrugged.
Truth is, I just saved that guy from a big problem. I looked at Paige. Your life might be hell, but that's no reason to bring others with you.
Paige huffed but said, "Nice to see you, Jake."
I gave her a quick hug.
"So, did they call you to fix me?" she asked sarcastically.
"Fix you? No, I came to the party," I answered, putting a hand on her shoulder.
Six teens arrived—four guys, and two girls. Looked like football players and cheerleaders. One of my security guys hired them so we could party without drawing attention. If I walked in with bodyguards, it'd be too much.
"These six are our ticket to every party," I told Missy, then grinned. "Come on, it's 9:30 p.m.—too early to shut down the night. Let's party."
We hopped from one house to another.
At one of them, Marshmello's new track Time of My Life was blasting. I sang along, watching Missy and Paige dance.
♪But I got just enough to get off this club… ♪
If any idiot tried anything with them, one of the guys we brought gave them a solid shoulder bump as a warning
Then another track played:
♪I've been reading books of old, the legends and the myths... ♪
The girls turned to me.
"That's you!" they yelled, hugging me.
We danced more, laughing.
---
After a few hours, we decided to call it a night and said goodbye to the six.
"Hey, if you need to do it again, call," one of them said.
"Yeah, easiest money I ever got," said another.
"You bet!" I replied with a nod.
I looked at the four of us—Paige visibly drunk, Missy a little giddy, Sheldon looking like he'd just left a war zone.
"Are you hungry? Because I am."
We ended up at a nearby diner.
After we ate, Paige looked at me.
"So, did you make me drink more to kiss me?"
I flicked her forehead.
"You know I'd kiss you even if I were sober."
I flicked her again.
She covered her forehead, wronged.
I murmured, "It was cooler in anime. Real life is kind of lame..."
"Come here, girl," I said, opening my arms.
"At the end, you still want a kiss," she said playfully.
Flick.
This time, I was serious. "A friend hug. You really need one," I said while hugging her tightly.
"Now you're being lame," she muttered.
"I'm here for you," I said.
"Now you're being cringe."
"I'm here for you," I repeated.
She stayed in my arms for a long moment, then started crying.
I could feel my shirt getting damp and her hands clutching my tee.
"Life can sucks, you know," she said.
I patted her head.
She cried more. Then, after a moment:
"I was there. I was at your birthday."
"And you didn't even say happy birthday?" I joked.
She pinched me, then continued, remembering the past (when she visited my house, after we met at Sheldon's)
"When we met again at your mom's house, I thought you were an idiot for not going to college."
"Then, at your birthday (14th), seeing you surrounded by friends... I never felt so much envy."
"That's why I went to Sheldon last time. I thought you wouldn't understand."
"Don't worry. I'm here for you now."
We stayed like that a while longer.
Sheldon and Missy were quietly watching. Sheldon didn't really get it.
Eventually, I said, "Let's go."
"To where?" Paige asked.
"My house. Look at this," I pointed at my shirt. "I'm all snorty—ewww."
She gave me a light punch. "Shut up, idiot."
I tilted my head toward Missy and Sheldon.
Missy tugged Sheldon sleeve. "We're coming too?" Asked him
We arrived at the Malibu house close to 2 a.m. The gates opened automatically as our cars pulled into the driveway.
"Welcome again to Malibu beach house. Best place to cure a hangover," I said to the three of them. Though, truthfully, only Paige really needed it.
"Come on in," I added as we entered through the kitchen door. I was helping Paige lean on me for support as we walked toward my room.
Once inside, I guided her to the bathroom and lifted the toilet lid.
"Now you can—"
Before I could finish, Paige was already calling Ralph.
I quickly stepped out.
"Missy, she's all yours now," I said.
Missy entered the bathroom and helped Paige. Meanwhile, I opened the cabinet and grabbed some clean T-shirts, shorts, and towels.
"Here, Missy. They're all clean," I said, handing her the clothes.
"Get her in the shower later, cold water. There are sealed toothbrushes in that drawer, and a bunch of other stuff. Feel free to use anything."
Missy nodded. "Thank you."
Then I opened my wardrobe again. "Come here, Sheldon. Help me out."
I handed him some blankets, pillows, and bedsheets.
"Let's go. We're sleeping in the living room."
---
At 7:30 a.m., I woke up.
"I hate to sleep on the couch," I murmured, then went to brush my teeth.
After that, I went to the kitchen to start some coffee.
A few minutes later, Paige appeared, wearing one of my T-shirts and a pair of my shorts.
"Morning, Paige."
She just groaned and slumped into a chair at the kitchen table, hands holding her head like it might crack open.
"I will never drink again," she muttered.
"I've heard that line a hundred times. Never seen anyone stick to it," I said, sipping my coffee
She glared at me. "This is partially your fault."
"I just paid for the drinks. Never told you to drink, didn't even encourage it," I replied. "You think I'd let you drink just so you'd suffer a brutal hangover and learn the hard way not to do stupid things?"
She glared at me again.
"Can you give me a glass of water?" she asked.
I handed her the water.
Minutes later, Alan walked into the kitchen. He looked at Paige—dressed in my clothes, clearly hangover—then looked at me.
"What happened?" Alan asked, weirded out.
"I picked up a stray cat off the street," I said casually.
Paige choked on her water and looked thoroughly annoyed at me.
Before Dad could ask again, Missy walked into the kitchen, also wearing my clothes.
"Morning," she said normally.
Now Alan glared at me.
But before he could speak, Berta appeared.
"Morning," she said.
The rest of us replied, "Morning."
Berta looked at the two girls and smirked. "So you already started, huh?"
"Not really, Berta," I replied, pulling a couple of bills from my pocket and slipping them between my fingers. Berta took them instantly.
"But my room probably needs a good cleaning..."
Paige choked again, coughing.
Berta started clanging a few pots and pans.
"What was that for?!" Paige groaned.
"Best way to cure hangover in a bad girl," Berta said flatly.
Then Uncle Charlie walked in.
"Why all the noise this early?" he grumbled, then noticed the two girls. "Ohh," he said, turning to me. "Nice job." With a thumbs up.
"Can we stop this misunderstanding?" Missy cut in. "We three didn't have sex last night."
Now it was Alan choking on his coffee.
"Okay, can we start talking now?" Alan said finally.
"Well," I began, "Paige needed my help. She was drunk and about to do something stupid. So I went there and helped. And I thought—where's the best place to take a drunk 13-year-old girl with problems and issues?"
"Hey, we're not working with underage here—besides you," Charlie interrupted.
"Yes, that's the only problem," Alan added sarcastically looking at Charlie.
"By the way, where's Sheldon?" asked Missy.
"I told them to take him back to Caltech shortly after we left the room. It was impossible to sleep with him in the living room…" I said, then turned to her. "When you're done with breakfast, I'll have someone drive you home."
Then I looked at Paige. "And you—we need a serious conversation." I tossed her some hangover meds.
She caught them, still glaring me.
I just raised an eyebrow and went back to my coffee.
After a while, everyone started to disperse. Missy looked a little incredulous as she watched Alan and Charlie leaving.
"That's it? Nothing more to talk about?"
"I trust Jake," Alan said simply.
"Yeah, the kid can handle it," Charlie added with a shrug.
Missy looked at me with a mix of envy and confusion. "Your family is so cool. You brought two girls who slept in your room, one of them clearly drunk. And even after I told them nothing happened, they just believed it? No punishment or anything?"
I shrugged. "You heard them. They trust me. That's what you get when you don't do stupid things."
After breakfast, one of the guards drove Missy home.
"I'll be out there," I said, pointing to the deck. "When you feel better, come find me."
Some time later, Paige appeared and sat beside me.
"How you gonna fix me, smart guy?" she asked, a bit snappy.
"I have an idea," I said, looking her in the eyes. "But I need two things from you."
She nodded for me to continue.
"First of all, if we're going to do this, you need to give it your all. Whether it's college or whatever you choose, you give your best—no half-ass jobs."
I paused. "Second, no more drinks or drugs. Nothing that could land you in juvie."
"You want me to be a goody two-shoes girl now?" she asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.
"No. But you'll respect the law." Or most of them…
She scoffed. "Okay, I can do that. So what's your idea?"
"You move in with me and my mom. I stay there half the week. I've got plenty of friends—you'll still have fun, even if you go to college."