A voice in her brain warns, don’t let Trinity hear you say that. Maybe it was intended as Martina’s attempt to have some edginess, but it feels like a personal scolding. Like, to be fair, she would like if Trinity walked through that door right now. That’s her cousin; family! But she likes being able to talk to PJ just a tiny bit more, to have him leaning into her closeness. Uninterrupted. A third presence is a crowd, and she’d be compelled to leap back. And, secretly, adding distance between them wasn’t a thought that sparked joy. “You’re you,” It isn’t that complicated, an easy math equation where Martina doesn’t have to carry any ones. She doesn’t think that she needs elaborate, but her mouth moves on its own accord anyway. “I’d put you on a pedestal if you were the president or if you were, like, I don’t know, making podcasts or something.” That sounds frivolous but her cheeks flush from the truth of it. Martina tucks two braids behind her ears to distract her nervous hands. “You know what I mean? I just like you. I can’t do anything about that.” Don’t let Trinity hear you say that. There is no room for reproach when her heart is so full from the compliment, charging like a battery plugged into an outlet. “Why, because I came to visit you?” Martina dismisses. “Because I made you laugh? I guess if that makes me a hero….” She’d be one. She’d be that for PJ a zillion times over. “No offense, Peej, but, I’m just saying, gingham uniforms would be a lot cuter.”
That makes him laugh, it’s short and soft. Like Martina, like how PJ feels in this moment. “Imagine if I had a podcast-- wouldn’t that be hilarious?” PJ loves to talk, everyone knows this, from his classmates to his family but to have a podcast? Would anyone listen to it? Martina would and that makes him smile, though, a very small part of him tugs at the thought. At the feeling. He’s not sure why and he doesn’t care, or want, to figure out why. He’s focusing on his friend who sits before him. “Because you’re you,” he says. “Like, come on, whenever I think of a hero, I picture someone with a heart of gold and who is loved by all. And you--” He gestures to her. “-- fit that description.” PJ is sure that even as they grow older and Martina spends more time in this cruel world, that her heart will remain pure and beautiful. “Gingham and plaid are literally the same thing, Mars.”