I hadn't seen Jacob since Exam Jam. We had avoided each other, but I wasn't sure if it was deliberate. Now I was in the car with my parents, headed straight to him. Breakfast at a restaurant was off the table because Kathy Sommers had, of course, made extra. Her cooking style was for an army. I kicked myself for not seeing it coming. The thought of being at a restaurant with the hustle of the servers and other tables was enough of a distraction; now, it would just be our little families huddled around the Sommers' dinner table. Just like old times, I mournfully thought as we pulled into the driveway, and my anxiety made my stomach churn.

Kathy greeted us with open arms before escaping to the kitchen with my mom. I joined my dad and Derrick Sommers in the living room, where we settled into SportsCenter and some generic baseball conversation. I smiled and nodded at the right places, but without paying attention. My head was fuzzy just being in their house. I had spent so many days playing here, but now it felt off. I gazed around the house, noticing any slight change; someone, probably Jacob's mom, had arranged the pictures to include Jacob's most recent baseball photo. The throw pillows now had green covers versus the blue ones with a grape soda stain from last summer. It all felt like a heady museum of my past.

"Hey," Jacob spoke from the doorway with a nervous sprint of a pace. He shook hands with my father and gave a nod to his own. "Big day, right, Emma Rose?" He always used my middle name when he wanted something.

"Sure is," there was a fake strain in my voice. From the splash of sadness in Jacob's eyes, he heard it as well.

"I got you something. Will you come upstairs?" His eyes were hopeful, like a golden retriever that had just delivered a ball at my feet.

I longed for the excitement I was attempting to exude as I chirped a "sure" and smiled wide, but it was tense and hurt my cheeks.

It was better to get this encounter out of the way now in our families' privacy than in front of the entire school. I grasped his outstretched hand long enough to stand, then dropped his grip.

The same pictures still lined the stairwell, and I instinctively straightened one of the two of us at the beach when we were eleven.

"I'm sorry. I didn't get you anything." I murmured as I rounded the top of the stairs and into his bedroom.

It was still the same; tidy with the slight smell of gym clothes, posters on the wall of a couple of athletes that I didn't know, and a series of framed awards from school and sports. I couldn't help but wish I was in Conner's room instead.

"It's okay. I expected nothing." As he spoke, he rummaged through his desk drawer before pulling out a slip of color. He looked at it for a moment as though it were a part of him he was reluctant to release and then held it out to me.

I gazed at the entwined yellows, purples, and blues for a moment before my hand lifted the bracelet from his. I ran my thumb over the soft threads without breaking my contemplation. My mind slipped to summer camp, feeling the lake breeze blowing my hair across my sunburned shoulders and smelling the carpet of pine needles beneath my feet. "Where did you get this?" I didn't look up as I spoke; I just continued to run my thumb over the childhood nostalgia. Memories so bright and vivid they made my eyes squint.

"I looked everywhere for the original, but I couldn't find it. So, I asked Tyler's mom if she could check the rec activities boxes for the instructions and string."

I absorbed his words for a moment before they registered, "you made it?"

"I made a few." He let out a sheepish smile. "That was the one that turned out. I forgot how terrible I am at arts and crafts." 

"No worse than I," I recalled the hours I spent on failed attempts in the arts and crafts tent at camp. Still, I found it peaceful, having something to focus on aside from a conversation.

"But you loved the arts and crafts tent. We spent hours in there figuring out how to make a potholder or bird feeder."

I smiled at his memory. I had forgotten the 'we' in my thoughts. Jacob was always there trying with me for the countless hours I spent making a rain stick or wind chimes.

"Emma, I'm sorry." Jacob's apology pulled me from my wooded camp memories and back to his bedroom. "I've had a lot of time to think, well dwell, and you were right; I was selfish. It took me so long to even think of the last time I did something because you wanted to do it."

I flipped the bracelet over before meeting his eyes.

"Those arts and crafts sessions were the last time I could remember." Jacob's face was open and earnest, the boy I used to know.

A smile spread across my face. I wanted to hug Jacob, welcome my old friend back, but I refrained for fear of sending the wrong message. "You're going to make some girl very happy, Jacob Sommers."

His face relaxed with relief. "So, you don't hate me?" There was a childlike hope in his voice that reminded me of Sammy. It was almost as though he had just spilled orange soda on my shirt and expected the mistake to end my love.

"No, I don't hate you. Besides, I said nothing until it was too late."

I was speaking to myself as much as Jacob. It was not all him. I allowed him to lead, convincing myself that I was strong enough to shoulder the burden.

"I am sorry, Emma."

This time, I hugged him. It was tight at first and then over, the way a goodbye should be. There was no lingering on the ghosts of the relationship; we had laid them to rest. I held out the bracelet and my wrist as a silent request. Without a word, Jacob tied it on me.

"It looks good," he whispered as his thumb brushed over the threads.

"It's perfect; I love the colors." A calm spread over me as I followed Jacob back downstairs.

Graduation had already happened. I didn't need a stuffy auditorium filled with people I was already forgetting. I just needed one last goodbye to my first boyfriend, Jacob. He would never be far; our families entwined again. But my first relationship was gone, and now I just had my friend back.

Breakfast flowed easily. I sensed the comfort seeping back into the Sommers and the Coopers. We had quelled the fear that combined holidays and vacations would be irrevocably severed. The chatter was happy and festive to match the day. They hatched plans to enjoy a dinner together as the kids embarked on Project Graduation. Everything was falling back into the right place, healing five years of disjointedness.