The Mall of America is pretty much the last place on earth I would choose to be. I’m not sure why the architects of this monstrosity decided that the Greater Twin Cities of Minneapolis and Saint Paul were “under-retailed.” They had seen fit to retail the hell out of this particular location.

It’s Sean’s little sister’s birthday, though, and she picked the venue. She’s turning five on Tuesday, but we’re celebrating early. Sean and I are in charge of taking her around the mall while her parents shop for last-minute gifts.

We are on the ground level, I think. There are so many people walking on the cement floor you can feel it vibrating. And the sound? Well, whoever decided to put a full-fledged amusement park at the center of an enclosed shopping mall was clearly mad.

This place is so loud I am starting to suffer from sensory overload. I’m not kidding. What with the echoing screams and the overall din of thousands of shoppers, I am not doing very well.

My friend Richard is a percussionist, and he got me these amazing musicians’ earplugs that block out ambient noise and dampen loud sounds but still let you hear people talking. I forgot them at home. I really need to keep them in my bag at all times.

Sean leans over and says, “Tea, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I tell him, but I’m not sure he can hear my answer. He takes my hand in his and squeezes it tightly.

I guess it’s obvious why people think Sean and I are dating. We’ve been “together” forever—minus a three-year hiatus when he moved to California and forgot all about me. Not that I spent every moment thinking about him or anything.

Only here is the punchline: he remembered playing endless board games with some scrawny brown-haired girl back in elementary. But when he moved back, he thought I was a different person with the same name. Right. Because my given name, Pasithea, is so common.

Well, now we’re high school juniors at Williams High, and people cannot wrap their brains around the concept of a platonic friendship between members of the opposite sex. What makes this even more ridiculous is Sean has an actual girlfriend, Sophie, but she’s long distance.

Idiots.

Sara walks beside me, holding my hand. Her light-brown pigtails bounce up and down, hitting her shoulders as she skips along. I hadn’t been able to convince her that a trip through Underwater World was a good idea. She’s afraid of the sharks and doesn’t like the dark tunnel you have to go through with all the jellyfish. So instead, we are making our way directly into the heart of the beast: Nickelodeon Universe.

“Hey, Tea, Let’s go on that one!” Sara lisps through her missing front teeth as she points to a giant orange roller coaster that nearly scrapes the ceiling at its apex. It is full of merrily screaming patrons zipping past at quite a clip.

Sean shakes his head, his sandy-colored hair predictably falling across his eyes. “Sorry, Sprout, you’re not tall enough.”

“Don’t call me Sprout. And I am not too short. Look. I can have a chaperone.” She is two inches too short to go by herself, but she’s right. She meets the height requirement so long as she rides with one of us.

“I knew it was a mistake teaching her how to read,” Sean mutters under his breath. Because now we are stuck going on a rollercoaster.

Sean isn’t good with heights. Really not good with heights. Which is hilarious because he is so tall. It seems like he should be afraid simply standing up with his head so far off the ground. Ha. He’s a foot taller than I am and never gets tired of pointing out that my head makes a very convenient armrest.

“I can go with her. You can stay here,” I offer. But Sara is set on having me sit next to Sean—because she’s been playing matchmaker since forever. She is convinced that Sean and I will get married. This despite his current girlfriend.

Since the rules say she has to sit in the same seat as her chaperone, and Sean and I can’t be together, she loses interest. We ditch the rollercoaster and settle on the Ferris wheel.

Sara jumps up and down with excitement as we wait in line. I look at the grin on her face and figure I can bear the chaos for one day. After a brief wait, the three of us board our Ferris wheel pod. Now Sara finally gets her wish, and Sean and I can sit together.

She sits on the other side of me and holds my hand. “You should hold her hand too!” she prompts her brother. Sean obligingly takes my hand in his. I smile at both of them. If we were in a different location, this would be delightful. A quieter place for me. Less upwardly mobile for Sean.

The Ferris wheel stops and starts as it fills the other pods. We sway gently back and forth, which makes me feel a little dizzy but not in a bad way. Sara is gazing rapturously over the side of our car and pointing out all the other rides she wants to go on. Sean is squeezing the life out of my hand.

I don’t know why I thought a Ferris wheel would be less of a problem for him than a roller coaster. Speed isn’t the issue; height is. And this is actually higher than any of the roller coasters here. Sean rests his head on top of mine, closing his eyes, and I give his hand a squeeze. Sara remains oblivious—still cataloging all the rides we need to go on after this.

We meet up with Sean’s parents after what turned out to be a predictably exhausting afternoon.

“You’re joining us for dinner, right, Tea?” Sean’s mom asks.

“That was the plan,” Sean says at the same time Sara shouts, “Of course!”

Thankfully, we are doing dinner at Sean’s house instead of meeting up for dinner at that jungle restaurant with animatronic gorillas, which was Sara’s first choice. On the rare occasions I have been forced to dine there, I always end up sitting at one of the tables that gets misted with water whenever there is a fake thunderstorm. I’m not convinced that the water is at all sanitary.

We all pile into the Murphys’ car. Sara sits between Sean and me in the back seat. She falls asleep on my shoulder and snores softly.

When we arrive at Sean’s house, I discover that Sara has managed to get cotton candy stuck in my hair during her brief nap. I go wash the sticky remnants out of my hair in the bathroom sink before dinner.

“You know where the towels are!” Sean’s mom calls from the dining room where she is helping Sara set the table.

It occurs to me as I am drying my hair that I can’t imagine doing this at anyone else’s house. It would be highly unusual behavior for a guest.

At dinner, Sean’s dad tries to make small talk with me. “So, Tea.” For some reason when his dad says my name, it always sounds stiff and odd. Maybe it would sound more natural if he called me Pasithea. “Have you thought about where you might want to go to college?” He fiddles with his silverware as he speaks. Honestly, I haven’t. Not really.

“My mom wants to take me on a tour of schools in the Midwest this summer. She said we could take Sean with us if that’s okay.” Sean’s dad looks startled. I guess Sean hadn’t mentioned this. “I mean, because she doesn’t teach in the summer, and it’s easier for her to take the time.” My mom teaches English at our rival high school.

“June and I will have to talk it over.” I can’t read Sean’s dad. No emotions register on his face when he talks. I mean, he is a nice guy, I think, but I often need a translation from Sean later to find out what his dad was actually trying to say.

In this case, I can probably guess. I know Sean’s dad wants him to go to the University of Minnesota because nearly every member of his family from time immemorial has graduated from the U of M. I also know Sean has no desire to attend college just across the river from home.

Luckily, before the college discussion can go any further, it is time for cake and presents. Everything is unicorn-themed. (Sara is obsessed.) After she has unwrapped and oohed and aahed over every present, Sara gets in her new unicorn footie pajamas and asks me to tuck her in.

“You should remember to kiss Sean goodnight,” she whispers.

I counter with, “How about I give you a kiss, and give him a hug.”

She tilts her head, giving it some thought. “Okay. But it has to be a good hug.”

“Deal.” I kiss her on the forehead before turning off the lights and closing the door.

Once Sara is safely tucked in, Sean drives me back to my house. It’s not a long ride.

“When is Sophie visiting?” I ask as he pulls into my driveway.

He stops the car. “Next weekend.”

I nod. “Noted.”

“Tea—”

“Look, I know it bothers you that I don’t want to meet her.”

Sean tilts his head to the side. “It’s not that it bothers me. But it’s like I’m leading two completely different lives, and it would be nice to only lead one. And I know you two would really like each other. She’s great. You’re great—”

“Yes. We are both amazing. Look, I don’t need to meet her. I only need to know that she makes you happy. But also, you’re not allowed to get rid of me.”

I’m suddenly plagued by an unexpected tear. Dammit.

Of course Sean notices. He brushes it away and says, “Tea, no one can replace you.”