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Bright’s watching Scooby Doo on the couch when the doorbell rings for the fifth time.
“God, I’m coming!” he says, muting the television and getting up to open the door.
“Delia?” he asks when he opens it, because in front of him is Delia Brown, wearing a fancy pink dress and looking awfully uncomfortable.
“Is Ephram here?” she asks, and Bright shakes his head.
“He and Amy are on a date,” he tells her. “You okay?”
“I want to talk to Ephram,” she says, slowly and firmly.
“Sorry, Delia, he won’t be home for a while.”
Delia sighs. Something’s off with her, Bright can tell. “You wanna wait for him here?” he asks. “Or maybe you can talk to me instead. I could be like a substitute big brother, y’know?”
Delia smiles at that. Bright goes on, not wanting to see that smile disappear. “I’ll be like, a less angsty, better-looking Ephram. Ephram 2.0.”
Delia huffs a laugh at that. “You sure you won’t mind me waiting here for a while?”
“‘Course not, kid. Come on, we can watch Scooby Doo.” Delia shrugs.
“Okay,” she says, and walks in, immediately plopping down on the couch.
“So,” he says, sitting next to her and unmuting the TV. “What’s got you all dressed up? Birthday party? School concert? Bat mitzvah part two: the one where Bright wasn’t invited?”
She laughs.
“It’s cool, though,” Bright assures her. “If you invited me, you’d have to invite Amy, and last time she got drunk off her ass on shitty Jewish wine, so—”
“Oh my God, she was drunk!” Delia exclaims. “That—that makes so much sense, oh my God!”
“She was very obviously drunk,” Bright points out. “I really don’t know how you missed that.”
“Shut up, I was thirteen!” Delia says, lightly slapping him on the arm.
“But seriously, kid, what’s with the dress?” he asks. “And, oh my God, is that makeup?”
Delia blushes. “I went on a date.”
“Holy shit.”
Logically, Bright knows that Delia is older than she was the first time she met him. That’s just how time works.
Mentally? Psychologically? To Bright, she’s still the same little girl who made him tea at his grandmother’s birthday party, who heard he was in the hospital and immediately decided to bring him a slice of birthday cake.
So it’s kind of freaking him out that she’s sitting next to him in high heels and mascara, coming back from a goddamn date.
“Oh, my God, Bright. I’m not five. I’m allowed to go on a date,” she says, rolling her eyes.
“You’re what, you’re fourteen? Too young! Much too young, little lady!” he says, ignoring the fact that when he was her age, he was definitely doing a lot more than going on dates.
“I’m fifteen and you know it!”
He does. He’d given her a County Miners baseball cap for her birthday last week. He’d gone over to the Browns’ place and eaten a slice of cake with the number 15 written on it in blue icing, but fifteen and one week is barely any older than fourteen, he thinks, and if he starts thinking of Delia as halfway between ten and twenty, he’s going to lose his mind.
“So who’s the lucky guy?” Bright asks. Delia goes pink.
“It’s not — I don’t even like him, I was just being nice!” she says.
Bright raises an eyebrow.
“His name is Felix,” she tells him, “and that’s all you get to know.”
“Is he nice?”
“Bright.”
“Is he cute?”
“Bright.”
“Did you kiss him?”
“Bright!”
Her face has gone from pink to red. “Where’s Ephram?” she asks. “I want to talk to Ephram!”
And are those tears in her eyes? Holy shit. Bright fucked up.
“Oh, shit, shit, shit, don’t cry,” he says, Delia turning away from him to wipe her eyes. “Seriously, Delia, I’m sorry. I won’t make fun of you again.”
She says nothing.
“Delia?”
“I want to talk to Ephram,” she says, so quietly that Bright barely hears it.
“Talk to me,” he says. “Ephram 2.0. You got him right here, in the flesh. He’s graciously let you enter his home, watched TV with you—”
“I don’t want you to make fun of me!” she exclaims, whipping around to look at him, face stained with mascara.
“I won’t,” Bright says. “Pinky promise.”
Delia raises an eyebrow. Bright holds out his pinky. She looks him in the eye, unblinking, and he doesn’t blink either, because it looks to him like Delia’s started some kind of unspoken staring contest to determine the worth of his promise.
She loops her pinky in his. “Promise?” she asks.
“Promise,” Bright agrees.
She takes a deep breath.
“I don’t like Felix,” she says. Bright nods.
“I’ve been on dates with a lot of different boys and I—”
She cuts herself off. Her eyes flit away from Bright.
“I haven’t liked any of them,” she says. Her scared eyes meet Bright’s again. “I don’t—I don’t like any of them.”
She’s looking at him like there’s something incriminating in her words. Bright doesn’t know what the fuck it could be.
“You’re young,” he says. “You—you’re fifteen, you don’t have to go on dates and make out with boys and—”
“I’m not young,” she says, a steeliness in her voice. “I’m fifteen! I’m getting my driver’s license next year! I’m almost done with freshman year! I know what I want, and it’s not boys!”
Something clicks in Bright’s head. “You mean…”
“Girls,” she says quietly. “I like girls.”
“Oh,” he says, for a lack of better words. Delia looks like she’s about to cry again. “Shit, no, Delia, it’s okay!”
“You think I’m too young,” she says, and it’s not a question so much as a statement.
“No, I-”
She cuts him off with a look.
“You know you’re always gonna be a kid to me,” he says. “You’re Ephram’s little sister. You’re the kid who made me tea when I was sick and pretended to drown in the deep end of the pool so I’d come save you.”
Delia goes bright red. “That was Brittany’s idea!” she says. “I’m—I’m gay, don’t look at me!”
Bright laughs. “If I was talking about a fifteen-year-old girl who wasn’t my best friend’s sister, someone who I had never met before? I’d say she wasn’t too young. Fifteen’s—you’re in high school now. Which is fucking crazy, but you’re not too young, okay? It’s just crazy to me that you’re so old already.”
“Do you think it’s okay?” Delia asks. “To be—y’know…”
“Yeah! Yeah, no, no, of course it is,” he assures her. “I know we’re living in fucking Colorado, but you’re a city girl! It’s 2008! Go kiss as many girls as you want!”
Delia giggles. “Thanks, Bright,” she says.
“No prob, kid,” he replies. “You wanna watch Scooby Doo with me till Ephram gets home?”
She nods. “Sure.”
Bright turns up the volume.
“You think Velma’s a lesbian?” he asks after a few seconds. Delia lets out a surprised chuckle, eyes wide.
“No, I’m serious!” he says. “She — there’s a vibe there, I’m pretty sure.”
“She’s probably got a thing for Daphne,” Delia agrees, and Bright smiles.
Things are gonna be alright.