Free American Girl On Saturn by Nikki Godwin

Dad’s parents died when he was young, and Mom’s family lives across the country. We see our grandparents twice a year, tops. Godfrey suits the role better anyway.
    “His wife owned a flower shop before I was born,” I explain. “Mom used them religiously, but his wife was diagnosed with cancer and died shortly after. It was really fast. Godfrey lost the shop paying for medical bills, and he was about to lose his house too. Mom and Dad had just gotten married, I was on the way, and Mom gave him the guest house and a job.”
    “And he’s been here ever since?” Milo assumes.
    I nod, but he can’t see me.
    “He’s more of Mom’s personal assistant. Or errand-runner ,” I say. “He has a lot more free time now that Aralie and I can drive ourselves places. But with Dad’s job, he wasn’t always here to help Mom run in different directions, so Godfrey did.”
    “Well, it sounds like you have a pretty awesome life here,” he says.
    That would be so lame if it wasn’t coming from the mouth of an international superstar.
    “Can I quote you on that when lockdown is over?” I ask.
    “You can quote me on anything you’d like,” he says.
    I hear the smile in this voice, and I’m grateful for the darkness. Now I can plaster that goofy fangirl grin across my face, and he’ll never know.
    We sit in the tent with our glowing jar for another few minutes while he rambles on about song lyrics and stupid marketing tactics they’ve used and all of the awesome places he’s visited. He talks about the time they were kicked out of (and banned from) a hotel because Benji and Jules decided to go swimming in the outdoor fountain. Then he talks about Noah’s bad tattoo jobs and how Tate collects phone numbers at nearly every show.
    “This is so weird,” he finally says, completely ending all talk of his Saturn brothers.
    “What’s weird?” I ask.
    Now is one of those times I wish we weren’t in a dark tent. I can’t see his face. I bet he’s doing that thing with his mouth – that puckered up sideways kiss thing that he does.
    “I never get to have actual conversations with girls,” he says. “Most of them just scream or cry, and the others are too shocked to speak.”
    Saturn’s angels are singing! He ’s totally oblivious to my fluttering nerves. My attempts to hide my newly-found Saturnite status have worked.
    “I’m pretty good at keeping my cool around famous guys,” I say. “Isaac Torrey will totally back me up on that.”
    But Isaac Torrey looks nothing like this beautiful boy. Of course I kept my cool around him. And he’s like thirty…and married. He’s not even on the same planet as Milo.
    “ I don’t doubt that,” he says. “What do you say we set these guys free?”
    He reaches for the jar, and his skin brushes against mine.
    I will not scream like a fangirl. I will not scream like a fangirl.
    He grasps the jar and shuffles over to the zipped up doorway. He crawls into the night air and extends his hand to help me out. This time, I take it.
    We walk hand-in-hand halfway across the yard until he decides this is the perfect spot to release our jar of stars. He sets my hand free so he can untwist the lid. One by one, the fireflies disband and rejoin the summertime air.
    “Why didn’t you tell me that you could draw?” Milo asks as he reseals Emery’s jar.
    “Why didn’t you tell me that you could play guitar?” I counter.
    “You never asked,” he says.
    I smile. “Neither did you.”
    He nudges me with his elbow and treks on toward the house. He tosses Emery’s jar back and forth between his hands, and I hope it doesn’t shatter on the patio or the entire household will be outside to see what’s going on.
    Luckily he sets the jar right back where he found it and walks to the sliding glass door. Before he opens it, he looks back at me.
    “Can you give me some practice ink too?” he asks.
    “Hmm,” I say. “Depends. Can you write me a song?”
    A smile spreads across his