American Girl On Saturn by Nikki Godwin Page A

unlike the pretty blonde, Noah actually gives me enough room to sit comfortably with him. I think Benji was more focused on his tanning than fake-tatting anyway. I should’ve drawn butterflies and kittens down his arm. He’d have never known.
    But I feel badly for being so hard on Benji. He does a good job of playing BFFs with Emery. I think the Twitter withdrawal is starting to kick in. At least that’s what I blame his sometimes-snarky attitude on.
    Noah gets straight to business.
    “I really want a full back piece,” he says. “I just don’t know how to work it so the sea meets outer space in a way that flows, you know? What do you think?”
    I completely crack up.
    “I’m not a tattoo consultant or graphic artist,” I remind him. “I can’t even draw that well. I just scribble around and make up goofy stuff for Emery.”
    He picks up a lime green Sharpie and tests the color on his wrist.
    “I’m not expecting a masterpiece. Just something fun ,” he says. “Besides, I’ve gotta catch you while I can. Apparently you belong to Milo after hours.”
    There go my Sharpies. Hot pink, bright orange, and sky blue leap from the lounge chair from my sudden movement and roll across the concrete. I dive toward them, like those markers are the most important thing in the universe, and Noah laughs.
    “I guess I said the magic word, eh? Details. Now,” he says.
    Fortunately he keeps his voice low, and everyone else is out of earshot. I don’t know how much he knows or what Milo has said, but I’m not about to divulge any more information than I should about last night. I doubt I could speak about it in actual words anyway. Just the thought of saying that I find Milo attractive makes me flustered.
    “Oh c’mon,” Noah whines. He elbows me and takes the Sharpies from my hand so I can’t use them as a distraction. “The boy sat in my room for fifteen minutes last night working up the nerve to go downstairs and talk to you. Then he came back and said, ‘We ate cookies. See you in the morning,’ and went to his room. Give me something, Chloe.”
    Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod. This lockdown is so much better than high school! Thank God I just graduated or else senior year would’ve been miserable. I can’t imagine how much life is going to suck for Aralie this fall when she goes back to mundane existence after a summer like this. Then again, the gorgeous and ever-so-perfect Milo Grayson didn’t come downstairs to talk to her .
    I inhale the scent of Sharpies and sunscreen.
    “We’re not having this conversation,” I say.
    Noah flips the top off of the sky blue Sharpie and draws a lightning bolt on his forearm.
    “This sucks. I’m finally in the loop about something, and no one will give me details,” he says.
    He can pout his lips and bat those pretty green eyes at me all day long. I’m not talking. If Noah wants to know something, he can ask Milo. My brain morphs into a mushy blob of caramel, Oreos, and warm, fuzzy drops of Saturn. I can’t even process this.
    I dare to glance up at the others in the yard. Jules leans back in a patio chair while Aralie and Tate face off in a round of Twister. From here, it looks like Aralie is winning. Benji and Emery man the board, and Milo shoots Tate repeatedly with a water gun.
    When Tate can’t get his left hand on blue and tumbles, he blames Milo for shooting water in his eye and demands that Milo play the next round as punishment.
    “Chloe!”
    My name echoes across the yard and bounces off of the house when Tate yells it. He jumps up and down next to Aralie, waving his arms like he needs a lifeboat to pull him from danger.
    “We need you!” he shouts out. “Come play against Milo!”
    Noah hides his face so the others won’t see his laughter at my predicament.
    “Go on,” he says. “Go get twisted with Milo. I’m gonna get a front row seat for it.”
    He grabs my arm and hauls me with him against my will. He doesn’t let go of me until we’ve joined the