After lunch I studied, or tried to, anyway. I kept getting interrupted by the sight of the manila envelope, which seemed to insist that I peek at Bryce’s picture instead.

It was several hours before Bryce pulled up. As soon as I heard the truck idling in the driveway, I grabbed the camera and started down the steps, grinning at the sight of Daisy in the bed. She whined and wagged her tail as I approached, so I stopped to give her some love. Bryce, meanwhile, had hopped out and rounded the truck so he could open the door for me, and my heart did the crazy pitter-patter thing again. He offered an arm to help me up—he’d showered and I could see drops of water still dripping from his hair—and when he closed the door, a voice inside scolded me to get a grip.

We drove through town, chatting easily while stopping here and there to take photos. Near the hotel, where the boat was resting on its side in the middle of the road, I spent a lot of time trying to get just the right shot. In the end, I handed the camera to Bryce to let him try, and I found myself watching him walk away, noting again the fluid way he moved. I knew he was working out to get ready for West Point, but his natural grace and coordination made me think that he would have been good at any sport.

Then again, why should that surprise me? Bryce, as far as I could tell, seemed to be good at everything. He was the perfect son and older brother, smart and athletic, handsome and empathetic. Best of all, he made all of it seem effortless. Even his demeanor was like no one else’s I’d known, especially when compared to the boys at my school. A lot of them seemed nice enough when I talked with them one-on-one, but when they hung out with their friends, they’d preen and act cool and say idiotic things and I’d end up wondering who they really were.

And yet, if Madison and Jodie found their attention flattering—and they definitely did—I wondered what they’d think of Bryce. Oh, they’d notice right off the bat that he was cute, but would they care about his intelligence or his patience or his interest in photography? Or that he was training an assistance dog to help someone in a wheelchair? Or that he was the kind of teenager who helped his father board up homes for people like Aunt Linda and Gwen?

I wasn’t sure, but I had the sense that for Madison and Jodie, the way he looked would have been more than enough, and the rest would be only mildly interesting. And, if J was any indication, I’d probably been the same way before I’d arrived here and met a guy who’d given me a reason to change my mind.

But why was that? I used to think I was mature for my age, but adulthood still seemed like a mirage, and I wondered if part of that had to do with high school in general. When I thought back, it seemed like I’d spent all my time trying to get people to like me, as opposed to figuring out whether I liked them. Bryce hadn’t gone to school or had to deal with all those idiotic pressures, so maybe for him, that had never been an issue. He’d been free to be himself, and it made me wonder who I would have become had I not been so caught up in trying to be exactly like my friends.

It was too much to think about and I shook my head, trying to force the thoughts away. Bryce had climbed on top of a dumpster to get a better view of the boat in the road. Daisy, who’d tagged along with him, stared upward before finally remembering my presence. She trotted toward me, tail wagging, then curled around my legs. Her brown eyes were so friendly, I couldn’t help but lean over. I cupped her jaw in my hands and kissed her on the nose. As I did, I heard the faint sound of a shutter clicking. When I glanced up, Bryce—still on the dumpster—wore a sheepish expression as he lowered the camera.

“I’m sorry,” he called out. He jumped down, landing like a gymnast, and started toward me. “I know I should have asked, but I couldn’t resist.”

Though I’d never liked photos of myself, I shrugged. “It’s okay. I took one of you yesterday.”

“I know,” he said. “I saw you.”

“You did?”

He shrugged without answering. “What next? Anything else you want to see or do?”

At his questions, my thoughts began to race.

“Why don’t we hang out at my aunt’s house for a while?”

Aunt Linda had gone to the shop, leaving Bryce and me alone. We sat on the sofa, me on one end with my feet tucked up and Bryce on the opposite end. He was flipping through some of the photos I’d taken the day before, complimenting me even when I’d done something obviously wrong. Right before he got to the photograph of him, I suddenly felt the tiniest sensation in my tummy, like a butterfly flapping its wings. I automatically put my hands on my belly but otherwise stayed completely still. He must have asked a question, but concentrating hard, I missed it.

“What is it? Are you okay?”

Lost in what I was experiencing, I didn’t answer; instead, I closed my eyes. Sure enough, I eventually felt the fluttering again, like ripples moving through a pond. Though I had no prior experience, I knew exactly what it was.

“I felt the baby move.”

I waited for a bit but when nothing else happened, I settled into a more comfortable position. I knew from the book my mom had given me that in the not-too-distant future, those flickers would become kicks and my stomach would move on its own like that super-gross and scary scene in Alien. Bryce remained quiet but had paled a little, which seemed kind of funny, since he was ordinarily unflappable.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” I teased.

The sound of my voice seemed to snap him out of it. “I’m sorry,” he responded. “I know you’re pregnant, but I don’t ever really think about it. You haven’t even put on any weight.”

I rewarded his lie with a grateful smile. I’d put on thirteen pounds. “I think your mom knows I’m pregnant.”

“I didn’t tell her anything—”

“You didn’t have to. It’s a mom thing.”

Strangely, I realized that it was the first time my pregnancy had come up since we’d decorated the Christmas tree. I could tell he was curious but didn’t know how to express it.

“It’s okay to ask me questions about it,” I said. “I don’t mind.”

He set the photos on the coffee table, his expression thoughtful. “I know you just felt the baby move, but what’s it like to be pregnant? Do you feel any different?”

“I had morning sickness for a long time, so I definitely felt it then, but now it’s mainly just small things. I’m more sensitive to smell, and sometimes I feel like I need a nap. And, of course, I pee a lot, but you already know that. Other than that, I haven’t noticed much. I’m sure that will change once I start getting even bigger.”

“When’s the baby due?”

“May ninth.”

“It’s that exact?”

“According to the doctor. Pregnancies last two hundred and eighty days.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Why would you?”

He laughed under his breath before growing serious again. “Is it scary? The thought of giving up your baby for adoption?”

I deliberated over my answer. “Yes and no. I mean, I hope the baby will go to a wonderful couple, but you never really know. That part does kind of scare me when I think about it. At the same time, I know I’m not ready to be a mom yet. I’m still in high school, so there’s no way I could support her. I don’t even know how to drive.”

“You don’t have your driver’s license?”

“I was supposed to start driver’s training in November, but coming here sort of nixed that.”

“I can teach you how to drive. If my parents say it’s okay, I mean. And your aunt, of course.”

“Really?”

“Why not? There’s hardly ever any cars on the road to the far end of the island. It’s where my dad taught me.”

“Thanks.”

“Can I ask another question about the baby?”

“Of course.”

“Do you get to name her?”

“I don’t think so. When I went to the doctor, the only thing he asked was whether I wanted to hold the baby after giving birth.”

“What did you say?”

“I didn’t answer, but I don’t think I will. I’m afraid that if I do, it might be harder to give her up.”

“Have you ever thought about names? If you could name her, I mean?”

“I’ve always liked the name Chloe. Or Sofia.”

“Those are beautiful names. Maybe they should let you name her.”

I liked that. “I have to admit, I’m not looking forward to labor. With first babies, sometimes it can last for more than a day. And I have no idea how an entire baby will…”

I didn’t finish, but that was okay. I knew he understood when I saw him wince.

“If it makes you feel better, my mom has never mentioned how hard labor was. She does, however, remind us that none of us were good sleepers, and that we’re still responsible for making up for her sleep-deprived years.”

“That would be hard. I do like sleeping.”

He brought his hands together and I saw the muscles in his forearm flex. “If you leave in May, will you go straight back to school?”

“I don’t know,” I answered. “I guess it depends on whether I’m all caught up or even ahead. I might not need to be there except for finals, and I might be able to take them at home. I’m sure my parents will have an opinion on it, too.” I ran a hand through my hair. “They’re supposed to come visit me at the end of the month.”

“I’m sure it will be nice for you to see them.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, but the truth was, I felt ambivalent about it. Unlike my aunt, they weren’t the most relaxing people to be around.

“Do you have any crazy cravings?”

“I love my aunt’s beef Stroganoff, mainly because it’s the best ever. And right now, I’m kind of in the mood for a grilled cheese sandwich, but I don’t know if that counts as a craving. I’ve always liked them.”

“Do you want me to make you one?”

“That’s sweet, but I’ll be okay. My aunt will be making dinner soon.”

He scanned the room, as if casting about for something else to ask. “How are your studies going?”

“Oh, don’t ruin the conversation,” I said. “I don’t want to think about school right now.”

“I will admit it’s a relief to be finished with high school.”

“When do you have to leave for West Point?”

“In July,” he said.

“Are you excited?”

“It’ll be different,” he said. “It’s not like being homeschooled. There’s a lot of structure and I hope I’ll be able to handle it. I just want to make my parents proud.”

I almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of what he’d just said. I mean, what parent wouldn’t be proud of him? It took me a moment before I suddenly realized he was serious.

“They are proud of you.”

He reached for the camera, lifted it, then carefully set it back in the same position. “I know you’ve mentioned that your sister, Morgan, is the perfect one,” he said, “but it’s not easy having Richard and Robert as brothers, either.” His voice was soft enough that I had to strain to hear him as he went on. “Did you know that they took the SAT last September? Remember, they’re only twelve, and both of them got nearly perfect scores: 1570 and 1580, which were a lot higher than I scored. And who knows if Richard will even need to go to college? He could go straight into a career in coding. You know about the internet, right? It’s going to change the world, trust me on that, and Richard is already making a name for himself in the field. He earns more than my grandfather does, working part-time and freelancing. He’ll probably be a millionaire by the time he’s my age. Robert will do the same. I think he’s a bit jealous about the money, so for the last couple of months, he’s been working with Richard on programming, in addition to building his plane. And of course, he finds it laughably easy. How can I compete with brothers like that?”

When he finished, I couldn’t say anything. His insecurity made no sense at all…except that in his family, it kind of did. “I had no idea.”

“Don’t get me wrong. I’m proud of how smart they are, but it still makes me feel like I have to do something extraordinary, too. And West Point will be a challenge, even though I’m under no illusions that I’ll ever be able to replicate what my father did there.”

“What did he do?”

“Every West Point graduate receives a final rating based on academics, merits, and demerits, which are influenced by character, leadership, honor, and things like that. My dad had the fourth-highest score in West Point history, right after Douglas MacArthur.”

I’d never heard of Douglas MacArthur, but by the way Bryce said the name, I figured he’d been someone pretty important.

“And then, of course, there’s my mom and MIT at sixteen…”

The more I thought about it, the more his insecurity began to seem justified, even if the standards in his family belonged in outer space.

“I’m sure you’ll be a general by the time you graduate.”

“Impossible.” He laughed. “But thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Outside, I heard my aunt’s car pull onto the rutted drive and a loud squeak as the engine wound down.

Bryce must have heard it, too. “The drive belt makes that noise. It probably needs to be tightened. I can fix that for her.”

I heard Aunt Linda coming up the steps before she pushed open the door. Her eyes went to the two of us and though she didn’t say it, I was pretty sure she was happy about the fact that we were on opposite sides of the couch. “Hey there,” she said.

“How’d it go?” I asked.

She took off her jacket. “No leaks and the generator is working fine.”

“Oh, good. Bryce says he can fix your car.”

“What’s wrong with my car?”

“The drive belt needs to be tightened.”

She seemed confused by the fact that I’d said it, not Bryce. When I glanced at him, I could tell he was still pondering his recent admissions. “Can Bryce stay for dinner?”

“Of course he can,” she said. “But it’s not going to be anything fancy.”

“Grilled cheese sandwiches?”

“Is that what you’d like? Maybe with soup?”

“Perfect.”

“Easy for me, too. How about in an hour?”

I felt my craving burst forth like popcorn cooking in the microwave. “I can’t wait.”

After dinner, I walked Bryce to the door. On the porch, he turned around.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” I asked.

“I’ll be here at nine. Thanks for dinner.”

“Thank my aunt, not me. I just do the dishes.”

“I already thanked her.” He tucked a hand into his pocket before going on. “I had a nice time today,” he said. “Getting to know you better, I mean.”

“I did, too. Even if you lied to me.”

“When did I lie?”

“When you said I didn’t look pregnant.”

“You don’t,” he said. “Not at all.”

“Yeah, well”—I gave a wry smile—“just wait a month.”

The next week and a half was a blur of test prep for finals, getting a head start on next semester’s assignments, and photography. I had a quick examination with Gwen, who said that both the baby and I were doing well. I also started paying for the film and photography paper I was using; Bryce’s mom ordered in bulk so it was less expensive. Bryce was hesitant to take the money, but I was using so much film, it only seemed right. Best of all, with every roll I seemed to be getting a little bit better.

Bryce, for his part, almost always developed my film at night, when I did my extra schoolwork. We would review the contact sheets the next morning and decide together which images to print. He also helped me make flashcards when I thought I needed them, quizzed me on the chapters I needed to know in every subject, and pretty much had me ready for anything by the time my finals came around. I’m not going to say I aced them, but considering where my grades had been, I almost pulled a shoulder muscle patting myself on the back. Aside from that—and watching Bryce tighten the drive belt in my aunt’s car—the only big thing left to do was have my aunt teach us how to make biscuits at the shop.

We went in on a Saturday, a few days before my parents were to arrive. My aunt had us wear aprons and went through each step with us.

As for the secrets, they really came down to this: It was important to use White Lily self-rising flour, not any other brand, and to sift the flour before measuring because it made the biscuits fluffier. Add Crisco, buttermilk, and a bit of (super-secret) confectioners’ sugar, which some people in the South might consider blasphemous. After that, it was all about being careful not to overwork the dough when you mixed it together. Oh, and never twist the biscuit cutter; press it straight down after the dough has been rolled out. Then, when the biscuits are fresh and hot from the oven, coat both sides of them with melted butter.

Naturally, Bryce asked a zillion questions and took the lesson way more seriously than I did. When he took a bite, he practically moaned like a little kid. When my aunt said that he could share the recipe with his mother, he looked almost outraged.

“Not a chance. This was my gift.”

Later that afternoon, Bryce finally showed me the photo he’d taken of me and Daisy when we’d been checking out the village after the storm.

“I printed one for you, too,” he said, handing it to me. We were in his truck, parked near the lighthouse. I’d just taken a few sunset photos, and the sky was already beginning to darken. “In truth, my mom helped me print it, but you get the point.”

I could see why he’d wanted one for himself. It really was an endearing photo, even if I happened to be in it. He’d cropped the image to capture only our faces in profile and he’d caught the instant when my lips touched Daisy’s nose; my eyes were closed, but Daisy’s were brimming with adoration. And best of all, my body wasn’t shown, which made it easy to imagine the whole oops! thing had never happened at all.

“Thank you,” I said, continuing to stare at the image. “I wish I could shoot as well as you do. Or your mom.”

“You’re a lot better than I was when I first started. And some of your shots are fantastic.”

Maybe, I thought. But maybe not. “I’ve been meaning to ask you if you think it’s okay that I’m in the darkroom. Being that I’m pregnant, I mean.”

“I asked my mom about that,” he said. “Don’t worry—I didn’t mention you—but she said she worked in the darkroom when she was pregnant. She said that as long as you use rubber gloves and aren’t in there every day, it isn’t dangerous.”

“That’s good,” I said. “I love watching the images start to materialize on the paper. One second, there’s nothing there…and then little by little, the picture comes to life.”

“I totally get it. For me, it’s an essential part of the experience,” he added. “I wonder, though, what’s going to happen when digital photography catches on. My guess is no one will develop pictures at all anymore.”

“What’s digital photography?”

“Instead of film, images are stored on a disk in the camera that you can then plug into a computer without having to use a scanner. They might even have cameras where you can see the pictures right away on a little screen in the back.”

“That’s a real thing?”

“It will be, I’m sure,” he said. “The cameras are super expensive now, but just like computers, I’m sure the cost will keep dropping. In time, I think most people will want to use those kinds of cameras instead. Including me.”

“That’s kind of sad,” I said. “It takes some of the magic away.”

“It’s the future,” he said. “And nothing lasts forever.”

I couldn’t help wondering whether he might also be referring to the two of us.

As my parents’ visit drew near, I began to feel antsy, a low-level nervousness that hummed beneath the surface. They were flying to New Bern on Wednesday and would take the early ferry to Ocracoke on Thursday morning. They weren’t staying long—only through Sunday afternoon—and the plan was for all of us to go to church and say our goodbyes in the parking lot right after the service.

On Thursday morning, I woke earlier than usual to shower and get ready, but even when Bryce showed up, I still had trouble concentrating on my studies. Not that there was much of anything to do—with finals behind me, I was plowing through second-semester work at a pace that would have made even Morgan proud. Bryce could tell I was anxious and I’m pretty sure Daisy picked up on it, too. At least twice an hour she’d come to my side and nuzzle at my hand before whining, the sound coming from deep within her throat. Despite her efforts to put me at ease, when Aunt Linda showed up to drive me over to the ferry so I could meet my parents, my legs were wobbly as I stood from the chair.

“It’s going to be all right,” Bryce said. He was stacking my work into neat little piles on the kitchen table.

“I hope so,” I said. As distracted as I’d been, I hardly noticed how cute he was or how much I’d come to depend on him lately.

“Are you sure you still want me to come over tomorrow?”

“My parents said they wanted to meet you.”

I didn’t mention that the thought of being alone in the house with my parents while Aunt Linda was at the shop kind of terrified me.

By then, my aunt had poked her head inside the front door.

“You ready? The ferry should be here in ten minutes.”

“Almost,” I told her. “We were just cleaning up.”

I dropped off my schoolwork in my bedroom, and after grabbing my jacket, Bryce followed me down the stairs. He offered a quick wink as he hopped into his truck, which gave me the encouragement I needed to crawl into my aunt’s car, despite my nerves.