Copyright © 2024 by Jasmine Little

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover design by Jasmine Little

Edited by Sarah Hawkins

First Edition, 2024

For everyone who needs a

good ugly cry . . .

NOTE TO READER

I’m beyond grateful to you for picking up my book, but before you read it, I want to share the trigger warnings with you. There are many heavy topics such as:

Cancer

Death

Childbirth (Not main couple)

Pregnancy (Not main couple)

Bullying

Drug abuse (references only)

Child abandonment

Emotional abuse

If any of these topics are triggering for you, please proceed with caution.

CHAPTER ONE

DANIEL

Three months before school

I get out of the car, but I don’t step forward. My head hurts from the air freshener Laura has plugged into the car vents. Cracking the window open didn’t help because once the hot air blew in, Laura turned up the air conditioning. I could’ve told her the smell bothered me, but I didn’t.

She comes around the side of the car and smiles. Her brown hair is pulled into a tight ponytail with a thick headband holding back her bangs, and she wears a light blue tracksuit. I wonder if she was running before she picked me up or if this is how she always dresses.

“This is our home,” she says, gesturing toward a yellow ranch with a long driveway. She reaches for my bag. “Let me help you with that.”

I jerk it away from her. “I got it.”

Her hands awkwardly fall to her sides. “Of course.”

This is Laura Miller, a cousin I’ve only ever met in passing, and now I’m expected to live with her and her family. She seems well meaning, but I know she’ll get tired of me. Everyone does. My mother didn’t even want me. She abandoned me when I was two years old and left me with my grandmother. Grandma left me too, in another way. She has dementia, but I don’t think she really wanted me either.

I follow Laura into the house.

There’s a girl who looks a few years younger than me waiting next to the door. She has long blonde hair that reaches below her waist, and she has way too much pink eyeshadow on.

“This is my daughter,” Laura says. “She’ll be going to the same high school as you in the fall. She’ll be a freshman.”

“Hi, I’m Olive,” she says, grinning and holding out her hand.

I stare at her hand, but I don’t grab it. “I’m Daniel.”

“I know,” she says. “I got your room all ready. Want to see?” She doesn’t give me a chance to answer, but she grabs me and leads me down the hallway.

“This is my room,” she says, pointing to a bright purple door. “And this is yours.” She knocks on the door to the left before opening it.

There’s a man sitting at a desk in the corner of the room. He jumps up. “Hi, I’m Rob. You must be Daniel,” he says. He grabs a few papers off the desk and tucks in the chair. “We’ll have to share this space a little bit. I hope you don’t mind. I’ll try and stay out of your way most of the time.”

I nod, realizing my room is actually Rob’s office. They stuffed a bed and dresser into it for me, but the desk and a bookcase full of books for Rob make the bed seem like an afterthought. It would be so easy for them to take it out and let this room go back to the way it was. It’s not really mine.

Rob pats my shoulder. “Go ahead and make yourself at home.” Then he walks out.

Laura walks in and opens one of the drawers on the dresser. “I bought some new clothes for you, but if you don’t like them, I can return them and we can buy something else.”

My clothes are worn with holes and fading colors, but I don’t want to wear the clothes she bought. I don’t want her to think I need or want their help. I won’t be here much longer anyway because once I turn eighteen, I plan to leave.

She runs over to the bed and fluffs the pillows. “These are new sheets. I wasn’t sure which color you liked, so I bought a gray set and a blue set.”

“Thanks,” I mumble.

Laura sets the last pillow back down. “I’m going to start dinner, but let me know if you need anything. I’ll just be in the kitchen.” She gives me a soft smile before leaving the room.

I expect Olive to leave too, but she stays and sits down on the corner of my bed. “You didn’t bring much. Do you have more coming?”

I shake my head.

“Oh.” She pauses, eyes darting around the room like she’s trying to think of another conversation starter. “I’m excited we’ll be in the same school. We can sit together at lunch and hang out. It’ll be fun.”

“I’m not going to do that.”

Her brow furrows. “Why not?”

“Why would I?”

She scratches her head. “Well, it’s a new school so you don’t have friends. I wouldn’t want you to be alone.”

I set my bag down. “I don’t need friends.”

“Everyone needs friends. I’ll be yours.”

I cross my arms and glare. “You’re my cousin, not my friend, and I’d rather be alone.”

Olive stands, grimacing. “Well, you’re definitely not going to make any friends with that attitude.”

“Good.”

She walks out, and I shut the door behind her.

First day of school

I shudder, feeling a sudden chill run through my body, and I open my eyes. Olive stands at the foot of my bed, tugging my covers off.

I jerk up. “Have you lost your mind?”

She stares at me with big eyes, like a bug. “You were crying again.”

I hurry to grab the sheets and cover myself. I don’t cry. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She looks off at the wall making an expression like she wants to call my bluff but won’t. “You slept through your alarm, and we have to go,” she says. “Mom is driving us. I call shotgun.”

Like I’d fight her to sit next to Laura.

Olive turns and heads to the door. Her light hair bounces with every step she takes. She wears a green gingham dress with lapel pins all over the straps and bright orange knee-high socks.

As soon as she leaves, I jump up and pull the jeans I wore the day before back on. I don’t have very many that fit. I still haven’t touched the new clothes Laura bought me.

Once in the bathroom, I brush my teeth and run my hands through my hair to try and calm it. I need a haircut. I hate when it’s long enough to touch my lashes. I’m constantly brushing it out of my eyes. If it gets much longer, I just might shave it all off. The only thing stopping me is the fact I’m always cold, and this school has a no-hat policy.

“Hey, we have to go,” Olive says, knocking on the door.

I open it, giving her time to see my unamused expression before pushing past her.

Laura runs into the hallway juggling her purse. “I swear the keys were in here a second ago,” she says. She rummages through it for a minute before pulling out her shiny set of keys. “Found them. Let’s go.”

I saunter forward, dragging my heels every step as I follow them into the car.

“I was thinking we could visit your grandma this afternoon,” she says, glancing at me through the rearview mirror. “It’s been a while since you’ve seen her.”

I stare out the window, ignoring her. Why would I want to see her? Half the time she doesn’t remember who I am. And when she does remember, she treats me the way she always did—like I’m a burden. She was obsessed with my grades and never let me do anything outside of studying. She never let me have friends over or play with the neighbors growing up. It would’ve been fine, but she didn’t spend much time with me either.

If I had it my way, I wouldn’t go at all, but Laura insists. My life is completely out of my control. I’m a puppet, watching everything play out while someone else makes all the decisions for me. It doesn’t matter who I live with, that’s how life goes.

“I could pick you up from school, and we could get something to eat on the drive over.” It’s about a twenty-minute drive from the school to the nursing home, and I generally zone out and fall asleep for most of the ride.

“What do you say?” Laura asks, smiling.

“I don’t feel like it.”

“But you didn’t go last week,” she says.

“I’ll go another day.”

She sighs. “Why don’t we talk about this later.”

I shrug again, hoping I’ll have a better excuse by then.

We pull into the school drop-off zone, and the car slows. I unbuckle and slide out, my skin immediately crawling from the loud students surrounding me like ants.

Olive is fast, rushing toward the school entrance. She’s a gullible freshman who hasn’t figured out high school is nothing but a prison for teenagers.

I close the door and walk away, dreading every step forward. I’m not ready to be around everyone, so I hide off to the side of the building. I lean against the brick wall and pull out my copy of Journey to the Center of the Earth and a pen. I crack the book open to the middle and start writing in the margins. This is what I do when I’m stressed. I can write down whatever is on my mind and forget the world.

The entrance doors fly open, and a girl in bright orange overalls comes running out. She has short dark-brown hair that flies out of control as she looks over her shoulder every few seconds. She spots me with the biggest brown eyes I’ve ever seen, and charges forward.

“Hide me!” she yells. She grabs my arms, pulls me away from the wall, and cowers behind me.

A guy bursts through the door. “Margo, where are you?” His face is bright red and his hands are in fists.

She pushes me forward, using me as a human shield. “Don’t let him see me.”

If she didn’t want to be seen, she should’ve worn a different color. She’s practically a traffic cone. The guy spots her in seconds. He marches over to us. “You scammed me!”

“I did not!” she yells from behind me.

“The watch was a knockoff!”

“That’s not my fault. I didn’t know!”

“Just give me my money back!”

He reaches for her.

She dodges him by using me to block him.

“I don’t have it.”

The guy shoves me out of the way, knocking me to the ground. My book lies sprawled out, and just as I’m about to reach for it, he kicks it.

My heart races, and I jump up. “Hey!”

He smirks. “Got a problem?”

I shove him back. “What did I do to you?”

With only one push from me, he swings his fist straight into my jaw. The punch burns, and I stagger back moments before I use my full weight to tackle him to the ground, arms swinging.

CHAPTER TWO

MARGO

Earlier that morning

I jump onto Annie’s bed and pull off her covers. “It’s the first day of school!”

Annie winces, trying to steal the covers back. “No,” she groans.

I don’t budge, and when Annie lets go, I push the comforter off the bed. In reply, Annie shoves her head underneath her pillow.

“This is the first day of senior year,” I say, rushing to our closet. I want to wear something that’ll stand out, and I spot my orange overalls in the back. I have overalls in just about every color, but the orange ones are one of my favorites. They remind me of fall, and considering how it’s September first, I think it’s safe to say summer is over, even if the weather hasn’t caught on yet.

Annie stands, half asleep, and pulls a dark blue shirt out of the dresser in the corner of our room. She pulls it over her head and stuffs her legs into a pair of jeans before picking up her comforter off the ground. Then she curls up again on her bed. “Wake me up in ten.”

“Not so fast,” I say, grabbing a light blue shirt off the closet rack. I toss it onto the bed and it morphs over Annie. “You should wear this instead. It makes your glasses pop.”

“Maybe I don’t want my glasses to pop,” she says through the comforter.

I like Annie’s glasses. I think they’re cute and she should wear them with confidence.

“If you don’t walk out in that shirt, I will disown you,” I say, walking to the door.

“You can’t disown me. We shared a womb.”

I laugh and head to the bathroom to finish getting ready. I brush my short hair and put on my makeup. After brushing my teeth, I choose my earrings. I never leave the house without a pair. Today, I pick tangerines to match my overalls.

Downstairs Mama is setting out breakfast. She has an apron tied tightly around her waist as she sets down a plate with scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon.

There are only three places set. “Where’s Papa?”

“He had to go to work early,” she says.

“Again?”

Mama kisses my head. “He’ll be home for dinner. He promised.”

I raise an eyebrow. “He promised?”

Mama smiles and looks up. “I may have told him I’d make steak.”

Papa is always working. He’s been working overtime ever since Mama stopped working three years ago when I got sick.

My freshman year of high school I was diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukemia, which prompted my mother to quit her job as a labor and delivery nurse and dote on me full time. I’ve been in remission for over a year now, but she refuses to go back to work. She prefers staying home and treating me like a porcelain doll. That also means Papa is responsible for paying all the bills. I miss having him around, but I understand the situation. He works hard for us, and I appreciate it even if I wished he’d spend more time with us.

“Where’s your chauffeur?” Mama asks.

I sit down at the table. “Still in bed.”

Mama takes off her apron and sets it on her chair. “You two are not going to be late for your first day of school,” she says, marching out of the room.

I laugh, taking a bite of toast. Annie might not get out of bed when I tell her to, but she’s no match for Mama. No matter how much she argues, Mama will win. She always does.

A few minutes later Annie walks in for breakfast wearing the light blue shirt I suggested. She sits down across from me and sighs.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

She leans on the table. “I’m not ready for another year of school.”

“Three months off wasn’t enough for you?”

“Nope.”

Mama joins us, but instead of eating, she pours us juice. “Are you sure you two don’t want cold lunch? I can whip something up quickly if you’ve changed your mind.”

“That’s okay,” I say.

“I’m good,” Annie says.

“I really don’t mind,” Mama says. “I don’t want you to grow up thinking your mother didn’t love you because she didn’t make you lunch.”

“Trust me, that’s not what we’re thinking.” I pat the table and smile. “Sit and eat.”

Mama sits. “My friend’s sister said her son ate a spoiled egg from school and ended up in the hospital. That could’ve been avoided if she made him lunch.”

Annie pushes her glasses up to the bridge of her nose and cracks open a book, and I shovel a bite of eggs into my mouth.

“I also bought ham and turkey and three different kinds of cheese, just in case,” Mama continues.

“Okay,” I say, knowing if I don’t agree, Mama will take it personally. “I’ll take a cold lunch.”

Mama’s face lights up as she stands. “I’ll be right back.”

Once she leaves, Annie peers up from her book. “Really?”

I shrug. “It’ll make her happy.”

“You’re encouraging her. Now she’ll want to make you sandwiches for the rest of the year.”

“At least there are three different kinds of cheese.”

“Just don’t come for my pizza at lunchtime,” she says.

I chuckle. “Oh, come on. It’s not like you’re going to eat it. You have the appetite of a mouse. Speaking of which . . .” I lean over the table, take her toast, and lift it to Annie’s mouth. “Say ah.”

Annie’s brow furrows, and she glares. “I was going—”

I shove the toast into her mouth.

“You were saying?”

She takes a bite and sets the leftover toast back on the plate. “Margo, sometimes you’re too pushy, and one day you’re going to get yourself in trouble.”

I wouldn’t have to be pushy if she would do things without being forced. “Was it good?”

“That’s not the point.”

I take a sip of my juice. “Well, was it?”

She hesitates before nodding and taking another bite.

“See. I knew it,” I say.

Annie isn’t the type of person to drive headfirst into anything. She needs to be pushed; otherwise, she’ll never get anywhere. If she had it her way, she’d never go to school or hang out with friends. She’d probably starve because she’d get too invested in her reading and forget to eat. She needs to be pushed, she needs me.

After breakfast we head to the car. Even though we’re the same age, I never learned to drive. Annie took classes last year, but I wasn’t up to it yet. I always said I’d take them eventually, but it never happened. Instead, she chauffeurs me around, and I think I prefer it that way. I know if I were driving, she’d have her head in a book, reading. This way, she has to keep her eyes on the road, and I can talk to her about whatever I want. It’s our time together. It’s sacred.

“Are you excited for school?” I ask.

She raises an eyebrow. “Did you forget who you’re talking to?”

“Come on, Annie. It’s our senior year!” This is supposed to be the best year of high school. “This is your last chance to have fun before you’re an adult.”

“It’s not that serious.”

“It wouldn’t kill you to try out for a sport or go to a party,” I say.

She laughs. “Actually, I think that just might kill me.”

I sigh. “Well, maybe you can join a book club.”

“Maybe, but I have an interview after school today.”

I sit up so fast my seatbelt jerks me back down. “You do? Since when?”

“It’s for the cute little bookstore downtown.”

I don’t understand how she can say this like it’s not the most earth-shattering plot twist of her life.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

She tilts her head away to hide her shy smile. “Because I knew you’d freak out. I knew you’d make a big deal out of it.”

Annie never leaves the house unless she has to, so I don’t understand what possessed her to get a job. “Why all of a sudden?”

She gets quiet.

If she wasn’t driving, I’d wrap my arms around her and shake the truth out of her, but unfortunately if I did that now, we’d crash. I settle for turning down the music. “Tell me.”

“Broken Sage is coming to Spokane,” she mumbles. “I want to go, but I know the tickets are going to be expensive.”

My heart swells. Annie is doing something outside of her comfort zone, and I want to tell the whole world. I contain myself, though. Barely.

She peeks over at me. “Why do you look like you’re about to cry?”

I pat her shoulder. “My Annie is growing up.”

I ask her questions about the job for the rest of our drive. I even make her practice answering interview questions because I’m determined to help her get this job any way I can. By the time we get to school, I think she’s about ready to eject me from the car.

As soon as we get out of the car, I loop my arm in hers and lead her—or drag her, if I’m being honest—into the building. The school is swarming with students. Most I recognize but there are a few I don’t. I assume they’re freshmen.

Cameryn comes running up to me, her dark curls bouncing in the air. “Margo, did you hear Tyler is looking for you?”

I shake my head. “Why?”

Her eyes widen, and she grabs my arm. “The watch was a dupe.”

“That’s not possible,” I say. Tyler paid me right before the end of school last year to find a limited edition watch as a gift for his dad. I did my best to verify it was real, but I also don’t know a lot about watches.

Annie crosses her arms and stares at me. “Still think doing business at school is a good idea?”

I’m good at fixing things, or at least I am usually. It’s what I’m known for at school. It’s my specialty. I’ve always had a knack for solving problems—figuring out what people need, finding the best sale on shoes in town, winning the games at the fair. If there’s a problem to be solved, I’m the girl to call.

“I’ll figure it out,” I say.

“Can’t you give him his money back?” Cameryn asks.

I cringe. “I don’t have it anymore.”

“You spent it already?”

Of course I spent it. It’s been almost three months, and I thought he was happy with the watch.

“Margo Blakely!” Tyler yells from the other side of the hallway.

“I’ll see you guys later!” I yell and take off running. I sprint past everyone filtering in through the main entrance and race outside. I don’t really have a plan, I’m just running. I’ll figure it out as I go. Hopefully, by the time he catches me, I’ll have a better excuse.

Within seconds my legs ache, pain shoots up my side, and I know I’m not going to be able to keep up this pace.

Once outside, I turn the corner and spot a boy around my age. He’s reading a book in the shadows. I’ve never seen him before, but he’s tall and dressed in black. He wears a scowl like an accessory.

“Hide me!” I grab on to him and push him in front of me.

Tyler bolts through the doors. “Margo, where are you?”

I didn’t realize a fake watch could make someone this angry, but his face is as red as a stoplight.

I cower behind the wall of a guy. “Don’t let him see me.”

Tyler runs straight for us. “You scammed me!”

“I did not!”

Tyler reaches for me, but I block every one of his attempts to reach me. “The watch was a knockoff!”

“That’s not my fault. I didn’t know!”

“Just give me my money back!”

The guy in front me stiffens and tries to get away from me, but I hold him right where he is. “I don’t have it.”

Tyler shoves us off balance, and we both fall to the ground. The book the boy had been reading flies in the air, landing a few feet away. He scrambles to his knees and reaches for it, but Tyler kicks it.

The boy jumps up. “Hey!”

Tyler—who’s known for not making the best decisions—smirks. “Got a problem?”

I don’t know why he cares so much about this book, but it’s like Tyler hit a sore spot.

The boy shoves him hard. “What did I do to you?”

Immediately, Tyler swings his fist into the boy’s face, and the next thing I know, they’re fighting on the ground.

I’m not going to lie, I didn’t think my first day of school would start off in the principal’s office. I sit in the middle of the two boys waiting for the principal to come back into the room. On one side, there’s Tyler, who has a split lip and his head in his hands. The boy on my other side doesn’t look much better, but he stares out the window like he doesn’t care about how he might get suspended.

“You really screwed me over,” Tyler mumbles. “First the watch and now this? If I get suspended, Coach won’t let me play.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t be such a jerk,” I say.

He glares at me. “Not helping.”

I could agree to save up the money to repay him, or I could use this as an opportunity. “If I get you out of this, will you call us even?” I whisper.

“You’re bluffing again,” he says.

“No, I’m not.”

“Prove it,” he says.

I may not like him, but I like a challenge. “Okay. I will.” Then I turn to the other boy. “Do you want out of this too?”

He ignores me. He doesn’t even flinch.

I wave my hand in front of his face. “Hello. Let’s make a deal, and I’ll make sure you don’t get suspended.”

His eyes flicker to me for a split second. “I don’t want your help.”

I huff. Who does he think he is?

“It wouldn’t cost you very much,” I say. Maybe he’s worried about money, but I’m very reasonable. I’ll make trades.

He shakes his head at me, glaring. “Get a life.”

I bite my cheek. I don’t know who he is, but I already know that I don’t like him. I cross my arms and lean back. “Well, somebody got up on the wrong side of the bed.”

A few minutes go by and Principal Lopez walks in. She has her coffee in one hand and an armload of papers in the other. “School hasn’t even started and I have someone in my office.” She sits down in front of us at her desk and sighs. “Okay, who wants to go first?”

I clear my throat and pout my lips. “It’s all my fault.”

She raises an eyebrow and looks between the three of us before landing on me again. “Really?”

I nod. “They were fighting over me.”

Tyler chokes.

I kick him. “It was a misunderstanding. They both want to take me to homecoming, and I told them I couldn’t—”

Principal Lopez holds her hand up, palm facing out. “Margo, I don’t have time for one of your stories right now.”

I sit up, and my head starts to feel light. I need this to work. “You know what? You’re right. Like you said, school hasn’t even officially started. It’s only seven forty-five. Wouldn’t you rather let this go and pretend it didn’t happen?”

“I’d love to, but you know I can’t,” she says.

“Tyler is really sorry. Aren’t you, Tyler?” I ask, gesturing to him.

He nods.

“And it won’t happen again, will it?”

He nods again.

“See?”

Principal Lopez takes a sip of her coffee. “I wish it were that simple.”

The room is starting to spin, but I clutch the chair and focus. “You and I both know you have a hard time finding volunteers for monthly food drives. What if Tyler were to agree to volunteer at one of those?”

“I don’t know.”

I lean forward. “Look at them. They’re strong. They can lift boxes or something.”

She takes another sip of her coffee. “It’s too early for this, but you got me.” She looks over at Tyler. “If you volunteer at the next three food drives, I’ll let this go.”

He smiles. “You got it.”

Principal Lopez turns to the new kid. “Will you volunteer too?”

He scoffs. “I’d rather have detention for a week.”

What’s with his attitude? Did he wake up on the wrong side of the bed or was he born like this?

Principal Lopez forces a grin. “Well, fortunately for you, that can be arranged.” She waves us off. “Now, head to your first period before I change my mind, and if this happens again, I’ll be calling all of your parents.”

“What about me?” I ask.

She sighs, locking eyes with me. “Just do me a favor and try not to cause too much trouble this year.”

“I’ll try,” I say. My nose tickles like I’m about to sneeze and starts to run.

She frowns. “Margo, wait.” She takes a tissue and hands it to me.

I take it and blow my nose, but I freeze when I bring it away from my face. There’s blood left on the tissue.

The next thing I know, I’m being sent to the nurse’s office.

CHAPTER THREE

DANIEL

Olive hurries to catch up to me as I walk out of the school. “I didn’t see you at lunch. Where were you?”

“Detention.”

Olive’s mouth falls open. “Detention? How? It’s the first day of school.”

I walk toward the city bus stop. Laura’s house is so close to the school there isn’t a school bus route. The school gives us city bus passes instead.

When I slow down, Olive gasps, standing right beside me. “Your face.”

I almost forgot about it, but I doubt it’s that bad. She’s probably overreacting. It doesn’t even hurt anymore.

“My parents are going to flip out when they see you.”

She’s right. As soon as I walk into the house, Laura forces me to sit in the living room to “talk.” I don’t want to, but I don’t have a choice. Rob is using my room for work, and I have nowhere else to go.

“Who did this to you?” she asks, sitting next to me.

I shrug.

“Are you getting bullied?”

“No.”

She puts her hand on my shoulder. “You didn’t get in a fight, did you?”

I shrug again, pulling away from her touch.

“I know you’re upset, but this kind of behavior isn’t acceptable in our household.”

My heart speeds up. “So?”

Laura crosses her arms. “That’s all you have to say for yourself?”

It’s not like they want me here, so why should I act the way they want me to? Why should I act the way anyone wants me to?

“If you don’t want me, kick me out,” I say.

“That’s not going to happen.” She says it like a fact, and it takes me back. I figured she’d be happy to have an excuse to be rid of me.

I tap my foot, staring off.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you? I want to help,” she says.

I don’t know what she wants me to tell her. I don’t really know why I reacted the way I did. I’ve never gotten into a fight before, but my body is on edge. I feel like I can’t breathe and the world is suffocating me. It’s like I’m a kettle on the stove waiting to go off. I need a way to get rid of the anger building inside of me, and I don’t know how.

I shake my head. “I need a shower.”

Part of me expects Laura to force me to sit here longer, but she nods. “Okay. We’ll talk about this later. Go clean up. I know you don’t want to, but we need to visit your grandma.”

She’s right, I don’t want to visit her, but I also don’t want to sit here any longer. I rush to the bathroom and lock myself in there.

I get out of the car and walk into the building. My chest is heavy, like a brick is resting on top of it, refusing to let me take a deep breath; and my stomach is queasy, wrestling with my lunch.

The inside of this building screams old. The carpet is dark green, and there’s purple flowered wallpaper everywhere. There’s at least one mirror on every wall to try and make the place seem bigger than it is, but they do a poor job of hiding the truth. The place feels like a doll house—suffocating.

Laura and I sign in at the main desk and head down the hallway toward my grandma’s room. It isn’t very far, maybe two or three rooms down, on the left. I figured coming here would get easier after a while, but it hasn’t.

Whenever I come, my skin crawls and my hands clam up.

I knock on her door before walking in. Grandma sits in a rocking chair by the window.

“Hello, Aunt Janet.” Laura walks over to give her a hug.

“Oh, hi,” Grandma says. “I haven’t seen you in forever.”

She saw Laura last week.

Laura smiles anyway. “We thought we’d come say hi.”

“And who’s this?” Grandma asks, looking at me.

My heart sinks. Every time she forgets me, I’m reminded of how insignificant I was to her. If she can remember Laura, who she rarely saw, she should remember me. I lived with her my whole life.

I stay by the door, ready to flee as soon as Laura’s required visit is finished.

“That’s Daniel. He’s Ashley’s son,” Laura says.

Hearing my mother’s name is like nails on a chalkboard. I grew up hating her for abandoning me. I hate her even more for dying. She overdosed seven months after she left me with Grandma.

Grandma’s face pinches together as she studies me. “Ashley’s boy?”

Laura runs over to me and grabs my hand. She pulls me toward Grandma despite me dragging my heels. “Today was his first day of school.”

Grandma smiles at me. “What’s your name?”

I don’t want to remind her again. I want her to know it without being told.

“His name is Daniel,” Laura says.

“That’s a nice name,” Grandma says. “Come sit down. Tell me about your first day of school.”

Why? So she can be disappointed? I slept through my classes, I got in a fight, and I have detention for the next week. At this rate it’s better if she continues forgetting me.

Laura waits a minute for me to talk, but when I don’t, she fills the silence. “He’s going to school with my daughter now.”

“How nice.” Grandma frowns. “Ashley hasn’t visited me in a while. How is she?”

Laura shifts her weight. “Ashley is really busy.”

Grandma scratches her head as if she’s trying to connect the dots. “Well, you tell her to come visit me soon.”

“We will,” Laura says, looking over at me. “Right?”

I raise my eyebrow in response. “Uh, sure.” I can’t stand pretending my mom is alive, but I’m not about to go through the roller coaster of reminding Grandma her daughter has been dead for years. It’s not worth it. She’ll forget again.

All I want to do is get out of here as soon as possible. I don’t see the point of coming since eighty percent of the time Grandma doesn’t recognize me, but Laura insists.

I find a chair in the corner of the room and sit while they chat. I nod or shake my head in response to every question I’m asked until I’ve been here long enough to leave.

CHAPTER FOUR

MARGO

One week later

“No,” Mama says. “I don’t accept that. Run the tests again. They’re wrong.”

Dr. Levine tilts his head with a tired expression coating his face. He sits across from us at his desk wearing a white lab coat. “Mrs. Blakely, this is the second time we ran the tests. They aren’t wrong.”

Mama stands up and plants a hand on his desk as if intimidating the man will help. “Do you see my baby over there?” She points to me. “She’s seventeen. She barely has all her teeth, for heaven’s sake. So yes, you’re completely and utterly wrong.”

He looks in my direction and then back at my mother, clearly not changing his mind. “I can understand why this is hard to hear, but the best thing to do now is to think about what you want to do moving forward.”

Mama steps back to pace the room, nodding. “Fine.” Mama pats the air. “You know what, if you’re so sure you’re right, we’ll just treat it like last time. She’ll do the chemo and radiation again. Easy.” She rubs her hands together as if she solved the problem.

I give Papa a look. Should we help? Should we save Dr. Levine from Mama going ballistic on him?

“As I mentioned before,” Dr. Levine continues, “that route might add a month or two to her remaining time, at best.”

Mama shakes her head. “No. I know there are clinical trials we can try. There are always trials, and we can do one of those.”

Dr. Levine takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. This isn’t the first time he’s talked to Mama. “I’m sorry. I really am. I know this is hard to understand, but Margo’s cancer is terminal.”

Hearing the words leave his mouth feels foreign. It hasn’t sunken in yet. I figured I’d be more upset at this appointment, but I must be in shock. Either that, or my body knows I have to keep my composure to make up for Mama. We can’t both fall apart.

“No. I refuse to believe that.” She crosses her arms.

Memories start to resurface. Memories of pain and white hospital walls. Of more medicine than food. Of the nosebleeds and bruises. Of the sleepless nights. Of the looks on everyone’s faces.

I never argue with my mother. She almost always gets her way no matter what, but this is different. This choice should be mine. It’s my life after all.

“I don’t want the treatment.” My voice is low and quiet, scared to voice those words out loud.

Mama’s jaw drops, slowly meeting my eyes. “Yes, you do.”

I stay calm, trying not to escalate the situation any further. “If I get the surgery and start chemo, I’ll feel even worse than I do now. I don’t want my friends feeling like they have to walk on eggshells every time they see me. I don’t want them to pity me every time I’m around them. And I especially don’t want Annie to do what she did last time. She put everything on hold, but this is her senior year of high school. I want her to have fun, not waste all her time worrying about me.”

“No.” Mama’s jaw clenches, and she looks away. “You have to try. They could be wrong.”

“I don’t want to be—”

“No, no. This isn’t right.” She shakes her head again. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. We just need to get another opinion.”

Papa reaches for her hand. “I agree with Margo. This should be her decision.”

Mama rips her hand away and stands up, eyes wide. “So you just want to let our daughter die?”

“I’m going to die either way,” I say.

That’s the final straw, the match hitting gasoline.

There’s a heavy silence that follows.

Mama’s lip quivers, and she stares at me like I just told her I want to jump off a bridge. Tears start to pool in the corners of her eyes.

I don’t mean to say it so straightforwardly . . . or maybe I do. Maybe if she hears it from me, she’ll believe it.

But I still hate crushing her.

She grabs her purse, fumbling as she tries to get the strap over her head. “I need to use the bathroom.” She gives up, stuffs her purse under her arm, and rushes out of the room.

It’s not every day you get the news your daughter is dying. I should be more upset than I am, but I always knew there was a possibility the cancer would come back. We all knew that. The difference is this time the cancer is much more aggressive. It’s stage four. It’s spread to too many places already. Maybe if we’d caught it sooner, there would be more we could do, but we can’t turn back the clock.

We wait a little while for Mama to return, but she doesn’t. We continue the rest of the appointment without her. Dr. Levine goes over different medications I can take to ease the pain and what I should do when my symptoms become worse. Then, we thank him for his time and leave.

My head feels like a balloon as I try to process it all. I don’t want it to be true, but I also know being upset won’t change anything.

I head out of the office, toward the car, and stop where the sky bridge connects the medical building to the parking lot. I watch the rush of traffic zooming underneath me through the large glass windows and tap my fingers to the hum of the cars.

Papa comes through the door and stands next to me. He loops his arm around my shoulders and follows my gaze.

“She still hasn’t come out?” I ask.

Papa is a quiet man. He doesn’t say much, but he’s a good listener. I think that’s why he gets along so well with Mama. She’s talkative and imaginative, and he keeps her grounded. I’ve always loved their relationship. A lot of my friend’s parents seemed to have grown apart through the years, but my parents are still close.

“She will when she’s ready,” he says.

I lean into him, resting my head. “I don’t want to spend the rest of my time just feeling sick.”

He kisses the top of my head. “I know.”

“Do you think she’ll understand?”

Papa sighs. “Not right away, but I’ll talk to her.” I can tell from his tone he’s tired and upset by the news, but he doesn’t show his pain the same way Mama does. I’ve never seen him cry, but he’s holding on to me like he’s afraid of letting me go.

I let myself sink farther into him like I did when I was a little girl. “Papa, will you do something for me?”

“Anything for you, Bug.” Even though he says that, there’s a hesitation in his voice.

I smile at my nickname. It never gets old. I’m Bug and my twin sister is Bear, but those names are reserved specifically for Papa. It’s like he copyrighted those names for us when we were little. No one dares try and use them.

I pull away enough to look him in the eyes. “Let’s pretend I’m okay. I don’t want to tell anyone about this yet. Not even Annie.”

His eyes falter, and he shifts his weight. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“I’ll tell people eventually, but I don’t want to feel like my life is over already. Don’t you think we could pretend for a little bit?”

Papa scratches the back of his head. “How long are we talking because I’m not a good actor.”

I laugh softly. “A few weeks at most. I promise. I won’t pretend too long. I just want a little time to live normally.”

He thinks about it, staring at the traffic below us. “If that’s really what you want.”

I give him a hug. “I love you, Papa.”

“I love you too, Bug,” he says, squeezing me tight.

There’s still no sign of Mama, and I know what I have to do. She’s someone who wears her heart on her sleeve. She may have gone into the bathroom to hide the fact she’s upset, but she’s not hiding anything. She’s making it more obvious, and I need to go talk to her. That’s the only way she’ll be able to move on from this moment.

“I’m going to go check on Mama,” I say.

He nods. “I’ll go warm the car.”

I head back inside and walk to the bathroom, where a small line has formed. I skip ahead to the front of the line. “Sorry, I’m just going to check on her really quickly.” I knock. “Mama?”

“I’m not coming out.” Her voice is strained from crying. She isn’t used to failure. If she had enough time, she’d probably find the cure to cancer. Giving up isn’t who she is. I know that, but I’m not giving up. I’m accepting fate.

“Could you open the door please?” I ask.

“No.”

There’s a groan from one of the people behind me. “This is the only bathroom on this floor,” they mumble.

I knock again. “There are other people that need to use the bathroom.”

“I don’t care.”

Mama is generally a go-getter, a determined person, but when things don’t go her way—which is rare—she reverts back to a ten-year-old child.

“I just want to talk to you. Can I come in?”

“Why? Did you change your mind? Will you get treatment?”

“Let’s talk about it,” I say.

There’s a long pause, but Mama opens the door. Her eyes are red and watery, and her cheeks look like there’s blush on them even though she doesn’t wear any.

As I slip inside, I turn to the line. “It’ll only be another minute. I swear.”

Some of the expressions are hopeful, but most of them are annoyed and dubious.

“Hurry,” one of them says while tapping their foot.

I close the door behind me and refocus my attention on Mama. She sits in the corner of the bathroom beside the sink. Her head is in her hands.

I bend down next to her. “Mama, talk to me.”

She throws her hands down. “About what? About how you want to give up? There are other doctors. There are clinical trials we could look into. There are so many things we haven’t looked into. I just don’t understand why you don’t want to try.”

I take her hand. “And what happens if I spend all that time and none of it works? You saw the results. I only have a few months left.”

“At least you would’ve tried.”

I shake my head. “I’d be wasting my time. I already don’t feel good. Instead of making my body feel sicker, I’d like to enjoy my time with you. I don’t want you to remember me sick. I want you to remember me happy, playing games, laughing. Doesn’t that sound better?”

She blinks away her tears. “But he said the treatment could at least extend your time by a month or two.”

“Don’t you remember how sick I was last time I had chemo?”

Reluctantly, she nods.

“That’s not how I want to feel. I want to feel like me.”

She cups my cheek. “But you’re my baby. I can’t lose you.”

I put my hand on hers. “I know, Mama. I know, but it’s going to happen either way.”

She pulls her hand back and looks away. “If you came in here to comfort me, that’s not the way to do it. You’re supposed to tell me everything’s going to be okay.”

“You want me to lie to you?”

“No,” she whispers. “But you could at least let me down easy.”

“Mama, look at me.”

Her eyes shift back to me.

“I love you. I want to make you happy, but I can’t go through all of that again. Not when it won’t change anything.”

“But what if it can?”

I sigh. “If you were me, what would you do? Be honest. Would you want to drag it out?”

She doesn’t respond right away, but after a little while, she shakes her head. “No.”

“Then is it fair to ask me to do something you wouldn’t?”

She chuckles, tears still flowing. “Has anyone told you that you act way older than you are?”

I smile. “You. Every day.”

She wraps her arms around me. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do without you.”

I pat her hand. “We don’t have to think about that yet. Why don’t we get up and go find Papa? We’ve done enough worrying for one day.”

“I don’t think I’m ready,” she says.

I tilt my head, peering up at her. “Do you realize how many people are outside waiting to use the bathroom?”

She crosses her arms. “My angel baby is dying, and I’m trying to wrap my head around that. So what if they have to wait?”

I stand and hold out my hand. “Mama, it’s time to go.”

She nods, taking my hand. “I know.”

I help pull her to her feet.

She adjusts her clothes and takes one look in the mirror before pulling out her lipstick and applying it. She swears a woman can never have enough lipstick. “I’m ready.”

I unlock the door and open it, revealing the unhappy line.

Mama takes a deep breath and steps forward.

“It’s about time,” the first person in line says.

Mama stops and locks her eyes onto them, and with a stone-cold expression, says, “The world does not revolve around your bladder.”

Before the other person has a chance to respond, I grab Mama’s arm. “Okay,” I say, nervously laughing. “Time to go.”

Another minute here and she’d start a fight. She’d win, but that’s not the point. The point is, we need to get out of here before those poor souls get in trouble.

Mama keeps her head up as we pass the entire line of people. I, on the other hand, try to hide how my cheeks are burning up.

Convincing Mama to pretend I’m not dying is a lot harder than I thought it would be. Granted, I didn’t really know what to expect, but I’ve spent most of the day rehashing the same conversation over and over again.

“Why aren’t you upset?” she demands.

Because it’s not real to me, and I don’t want it to be. If I tell myself I’m okay, maybe I’ll believe the lie too.

“What about Annie?” she asks. “Do you really expect us not to tell her?”

“I just want a little time. I want to be the one to tell her.”

Arguing doesn’t do much good. Mama agrees but isn’t happy about it. She hides in her room the rest of the day which isn’t like her. She’s usually busy running around the house doing laundry, dishes, and everything in-between. She doesn’t even make dinner. That’s a bad sign.

Annie comes home, plopping down on the couch the second she walks in.

“So how was work?” I ask. It’s Annie’s third day.

She shrugs.

“What’s wrong?”

She grabs a pillow and smacks herself in the face with it. “The concert sold out in ten minutes. I didn’t have a chance.”

“What?”

She lowers the pillow. “I figured there’d still be tickets available by the time I got my first paycheck.” She shakes her head, pouting. “My life is ruined.” She grabs the remote controller and turns on the TV. “I hope your day was better than mine. How did the doctor’s visit go?”

I know I should tell her the truth, but at the same time I wish her biggest problem in life could be a sold-out concert. “Nothing new. They ran some more tests.”

I hold my breath, waiting to see if she’ll accept the lie and move on.

“What do you want to watch?” she asks.

I relax. “Whatever you want.”

I’ll tell her eventually, but right now all I want to do is watch a show with my sister and act like we have forever.

We spend the next few hours watching TV and then we head to our room. Annie reads until about eleven when she finally passes out. She’s still wearing her glasses, and her book is lying open on her lap.

I tiptoe across our room to take her glasses off and set the book on the nightstand. Even in her sleep she’s frowning. I bet she’s dreaming about the concert.

My heart hurts a little. I don’t want to leave her alone. I don’t want to imagine her face when she finds out about me. The only thing I can do is add as many good memories as I can, to try and outweigh the bad ones coming.

I’m going to get her tickets to that concert even if it’s the last thing I do.

I feel my eyes warm, and I step into the hallway. I don’t want to cry in my room. What if Annie hears me and it wakes her up?

I pass my parents’ room where Papa sits in bed watching TV, or at least he was. Papa is snoring, but I can guarantee if I walked in and turned his show off, he’d wake up and tell me he was watching it.

I walk to the kitchen for a glass of water to help clear my head. I take one of the glasses and set it under the water spout in the fridge, letting it fill up dangerously close to the brim. I hoped the ice-cold water would startle my body enough to stop the tears, but I can’t seem to get more than one sip down before my tears fall down my cheeks.

Why me? Why do I have to die?

Or if it had to be me, why couldn’t it have happened later? I’m so young, and there are so many things I’ve never done. I’ve never driven a car. I’ve never kissed a boy. I’ve never even left the country. But those things don’t matter that much. I’m more upset I won’t be around to see the day Annie eventually walks down the aisle in her dream wedding dress. I’m supposed to be up there with her as her maid of honor, holding her bouquet. We planned it years ago. I want to be next to her, cheering her on. I hate that I’ll never get to meet the cute little freckled kids she’s going to have or see the amazing person she’s going to become.

I set the glass of water down in the sink and take a deep breath. I need to stop crying or I’ll have puffy eyes in the morning.

Looking out the window, I spy Mama on the back porch swing. She’s crying too, and it tugs at my heart. Now, I really have to stop. I have to be the strong one. I have to make sure everyone else is okay.

I wipe my eyes and pinch my cheeks. I practice my smile, and then I walk out the back door. I inch closer to the porch swing and sit down next to her.

She sees me but turns her face away, covering her mouth. I pull her into a hug and pat her back.

“I’m sorry, Margo,” she whispers. “I’m trying, but it’s hard . . .”

“I know.” I squeeze her tighter, forcing my own sadness down.

“I’m going to try, but I can’t pretend all the time.”

I rest my head on hers and let her keep crying. “I know.”

An idea pops into my head. If I only have a few months to live, I’m going to fix as many things as I can before I go. I’ll make sure my family is taken care of.

CHAPTER FIVE

DANIEL

It’s no secret I don’t pay attention in class. Through most of my classes, I rest my head on my desk and close my eyes to block everyone else out. My fourth period class was a little different today. There was a test, and while I don’t like doing my homework, I usually do take the quizzes and tests we have. There’s a part of me that likes to see if I actually do know the material like I think I do.

My teacher hands back the tests, starting at the other end of the room. When she gets to me, she pauses, staring at the paper. She glances at me . . . and then at the paper again. She opens her mouth to say something just as the bell sounds, releasing us from class.

She sets down my paper and says to the class, “Don’t forget to read pages thirty-two through thirty-five tonight.”

In big red handwriting there’s an A written at the top of my page.

I crumble up the paper and toss it into the garbage as I leave. I can guarantee I will not be reading our homework tonight.

I hate standing around in the hallways, surrounded by everyone. Every laugh and smile makes me cringe because it’s a reminder that not everyone’s life is as crappy as mine. Their voices overwhelm the space as everyone tries to talk over each other, but I force myself to ignore it the best I can.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a familiar figure.

“Hey, Olive!” someone shouts, hurrying up to her. He puts his arm around her. “What’s with the costume?”

“Get lost, Josh.” Olive tries to wiggle her way free, but he doesn’t let her go.

“Did you forget to look in the mirror before you left?”

“Get off me,” she says.

He laughs. “Don’t act like you don’t like it.”

Olive and I aren’t close, but I don’t like seeing her being picked on.

She pushes him away, but he pulls on the strap of her dress.

Anger builds in my chest, and I speed up to catch them. I tug Josh back by the collar of his shirt.

“Hey!”

“She told you to get lost,” I say with a glare.

Olive gasps. “It’s fine.”

Josh smirks. “See? She said it was fine.”

I push him against the lockers.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve, and his blond hair falls into his face. “What’s your problem? Can’t a guy have a little fun.”

I can’t believe he thinks this is okay. Olive might not be my favorite person in the world, but he has no right to treat her that way. “If you know what’s good for you, you’d shut up.”

Josh’s lip curls up in disgust. “Oh come on, the freak had it coming.”

Without thinking my fist flies through the air, smashing into the locker beside his face. “I said shut up!”

Josh pushes me. “You jerk! Back off!”

“Stop it!” Olive yells. “You’re embarrassing me.”

I pull my fist back, ready to swing—

My arm freezes mid-air, held back by some unknown force, making it impossible to punch Josh in the face.

I turn slowly, expecting to see a teacher or some other faculty member, but instead, I’m met with the big brown eyes.

It’s the girl from the first day of school who hid behind me. Her brown eyes bug out. Her dark-brown hair is chopped short, and her face is twisted in a sour expression, glaring at me. “Leave him alone.”

I jerk myself free from her hold, shaking out my arm just as Josh shoves me one last time, knocking me to the ground. Then, he heads down the hallway.

My head is heavy, and I lie on the ground trying to catch my breath.

“Are you just going to lie there?” says the brown-eyed girl.

I didn’t expect her to still be here. I figured she’d run off.

“Here,” she says, extending her hand. “Let me help you up.”

I swat her hand away before standing up on my own. She’s only offering help because now I’m the vulnerable one.

Olive is nowhere to be seen.

“Do you always go around punching everybody?” the brown-eyed girl asks, falling into step with me.

Why does she care? She doesn’t know me.

I roll my eyes and walk faster. She wouldn’t understand even if I tried to explain the situation to her. Besides, she probably has nothing better to do than find the newest gossip and spread it around the school.

“I just want to know what happened,” she says.

I spin around, and she almost runs into me as she skids to a stop.

My eyes narrow. “Didn’t you see what happens when people annoy me?”

She scowls at me, crossing her arms. “Only cowards solve their problems with their fists because they’re too afraid to hear what the other person has to say.”

I almost laugh. Who is she to talk to me like that? She doesn’t know anything about me or about what just happened. Who is she to make assumptions? She’s nothing but a spoiled brat who’s clearly never had to deal with the real world.

I lean in, eyes darkening. “Get lost.”

Yet, to my surprise, she stares back at me without a single ounce of fear in her eyes. She rocks her jaw ever so slightly, and there’s only one word that leaves her mouth: “Coward.”

CHAPTER SIX

MARGO

Twenty minutes later

My mind is still spinning from my encounter with Daniel. He’s an immature boy who needs a lesson in social basics. What would’ve happened if I wasn’t there? And what’ll happen the next time he loses his temper? What if no one is there to stop him?

I shake the thoughts out of my head.

The closer I get to the cafeteria, the louder it gets. So many conversations are melting together I can’t make out any of them word for word.

Before I step in, I straighten my posture, pinch my cheeks, and put on a smile. Anything to make myself look better than I feel.

I spot Annie in the center of the cafeteria, head in a book. I’ve tried convincing her to sit with my friends, but she never wants to. It’s usually just the two of us with the occasional exception of Cameryn. She joins us at least twice a week.

Annie and I may be twins, but we’re nothing alike. I’m the friendly, bubbly one who likes bright colors and bold clothes, and she’s the shy, book-loving one who would rather go back to being in lockdown than go to a party.

I pull her book down as I sit across from her.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hi,” I reply with the biggest smile I can.

She’s barely touched her lunch, which isn’t new. I pluck one of the grapes off her tray and pop it into my mouth.

I wait for her to scold me, but instead her eyes lock on something past me.

“What are you looking at?”

Her gaze flies back down to her book. “Nothing.”

My sister never does anything without a reason. She’s a calculated person, but I give her the benefit of the doubt.

“Are you going to eat that?” I ask, pointing to her mac and cheese.

“I already did,” she says.

I pull the tray closer to me. “A whole two bites.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice her looking past me again. This time, I turn to follow her gaze. My eyes land on none other than Daniel in his dark T-shirt and jeans sitting alone a couple tables over. His dirty-blond hair falls into his eyes.

I grimace, twisting back to face her. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

She blushes, and her eyes falter. “He’s cute.”

“Have you lost your mind? He looks like he eats puppies.”

She leans back with a funny expression. “He does not. He’s a vegetarian.”

I take in a breath and let it out slowly. “Please don’t tell me the reason you know that is because you’ve been staring at him like this every day at lunch.”

“I don’t stare. I observe,” she mumbles, pushing her glasses farther up the bridge of her nose.

“What else have you observed? How many times he’s been sent to detention? How many times he’s skipped school?”

Annie rolls her eyes. “That’s only happened a few times.”

I stare her dead in the eyes. “It’s barely the second week of school, Annie. The second. I literally just saw him in the hallway getting into a fight with Josh. He’s bad news.”

“But he . . .”

“But he what? Has cute eyes? Does he smell nice—”

“He reads.”

My jaw drops. I’m pretty sure at least half the boys around us fit that criteria. I think she needs to raise her bar a little higher. “You can’t be serious. That’s it?”

“You wouldn’t understand. It was a Jules Verne book. A classic. He might look intimidating, but it’s an act. It’s got to be. Bad boys don’t read Jules Verne, Margo. I’m telling you, he’s secretly a cinnamon roll.”

I turn to get another look. He’s standing up, stuffing his things into his bag and leaving. He crumples up a wrapper and tosses it onto the ground.

“Would a cinnamon roll litter?” I ask.

“It was probably an accident.”

“Do you hear yourself right now?” I say as he kicks it under the table. “There’s no way you didn’t see that.”

She covers her eyes. “I saw nothing.”

I sigh.

Geoffrey slides in next to me at the table. “Hey, Margo,” he says.

Annie returns to her book.

“Hey,” I reply. “What’s up?”

“I need your help.”

“Of course you do,” Annie mumbles.

“I busted my shoes,” he says, lifting his foot slightly. “They’re limited edition and my favorite, but they are sold out. I can’t find another pair anywhere, but I figured if anyone could find another pair, it would be you.”

It might be hard to find the exact sneakers, but I’m not one to back down from a challenge. “I’ll look into it.”

“You’re the best!” he says, jumping back up. “I’ll bring you some of those cookies you like.”

Annie raises her gaze back to me. “I’ll look into it?”

“What? I will. I bet I can find a pair in no time. Besides, I like the cookies from his mom’s bakery.”

“He just wants an excuse to talk to you.”

I sigh. “If that were true, he’d still be here.” I take another bite of mac and cheese and wait for the outside doors to open. Once they are, I stand. “Come on.” I tug on Annie’s arm. “Let’s go get some fresh air.”

She groans. “Do I have to?”

“You need the vitamin D.”

She tucks her book under her arm and follows me as I put her tray away.

I find Annie in the halls as soon as the final bell rings, and I loop my arm in hers. “Miss me?”

She nudges me. “You don’t give me a chance to. You know, one of these days, someone is going to catch you texting during class.”

I smile. “I like to live on the edge.”

She laughs. I like it when she laughs. She’s so serious all the time, but every once in a while, I can get her to loosen up.

“You couldn’t reach the edge with a ten-foot pole,” she says.

“Margo!” Cameryn calls from across the hallway. She comes running, backpack bouncing behind her. She grabs my arm. “There’s a sale at the mall. We have to go.”

I notice Annie shrinking back.

“Really?” I ask.

Cameryn nods. “Fifty percent off fall clothes right now at Rave Boutique.”

“No!” I say with a gasp.

Her smile widens. “Yes! I’m going to get that cute purse we saw last time. You know, the one with the checkered print. It would be absolutely perfect for my navy blue dress.”

Annie is consumed by her phone, a coping mechanism for when she’s uncomfortable. She’s trying to look busy.

“Do you want to go?” I ask Annie.

Cameryn acknowledges Annie as if she just noticed her. “Of course, Annie is always welcome to join.”

Annie’s eyes raise but don’t hold eye contact very long. “Uh . . . I have . . . I think I’m going to get a head start on my homework.”

I focus on Cameryn again, preparing myself to break her heart. I need to spend time with Annie. “Don’t kill me, but I think I’m going to head home too. I’ll meet up with you this weekend, though. I promise.”

She sighs. “You better. This is the second time this week you’ve stood me up.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll make up for it later.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

“Make sure you send me a picture of the things you get.”

“Be prepared for your phone to blow up,” she says, running off again. “Bye!”

“Bye,” I say, waving. “Sorry, I didn’t—”

Annie isn’t standing next to me anymore. She’s halfway down the hall in the opposite direction.

I speed up to catch her. “Hey, wait up.”

“Aren’t you going shopping?”

I shake my head. “Nope. I’m going home too.”

“But you love shopping.”

“So? I wanted to hang out with you today. We can watch a movie after we finish our homework.”

“It’s okay. We can do that anytime. Go shopping. I know you want to.”

She has no idea at this moment I want literally nothing more than to spend time with her. “I’ll only go shopping if you do. Cameryn invited you too.”

She gives me a look. “Only because you guilted her into it. She wouldn’t have invited me if I wasn’t standing right there.”

“That’s not true. Cameryn is really nice. I bet you’d like her if you spent more time with her.”

“I’m good.”

I scowl. I wish she would try a little harder to make friends. I want her to find someone other than me she can talk to and confide in. If she won’t find that person, I will.

I link my arm with hers again. “Well, I’m not going shopping. I already told her I’d go this weekend, so you’re stuck with me whether you like it or not.”

She rolls her eyes and laughs, but I can tell she’s happy I’m hanging out with her instead.

We head to her car, and I hop into the passenger seat. Annie turns on the car and it’s immediately filled with music from Broken Sage. They’re an indie pop band. Annie loves them—an unhealthy amount, one might argue—but she lights up whenever she starts singing along to their songs.

After the first song plays through, she sighs, resting her head back. “I still can’t believe they’re playing here and I can’t go. What if they never play here again?”

“I’m sure they will,” I say as a feeble attempt to comfort her.

“They better,” she says. “Maybe I should start a petition.”

I chuckle. “I’d like to see that.”

She doesn’t know it yet, but I’m in the process of getting two tickets. Cameryn gave me an inside scoop that her cousin bought tickets as a surprise for her boyfriend because he really liked the band, but he cheated on her. Cameryn gave me her number and now I’m just trying to negotiate the price with her. They’re expensive, so I’m trying to talk her down a little by offering to trade something instead.

It doesn’t take us long to drive home. When we pull in, one of the neighbor kids waves at us. There are so many of them I lose track of who is who. Mrs. Jackman always seems to be having another kid. She has five so far, and there’s another on the way. It’s always a little loud living next to them because the kids are outside all the time, but I like the noise.

We head inside to finish our homework, and Mama rushes up to us. She takes my bags. “How was your day? How are you feeling?”

I give a look letting her know she needs to tone it down. “It was good, but we’re going to do our homework and then watch a movie.”

“Do you need anything? Cocoa? Water?”

“Nothing for me,” Annie says, walking down the hallway to our room.

“What are you doing?” I whisper to Mama. “Annie’s right there.”

She puts a hand on my forehead to check for a temperature. “So?”

“I thought you were going to act normal.”

“This is normal.” To be fair, it is, but I was hoping she’d try and be a little less suspicious.

I move her hand. “I promise I feel fine.” I’m a little tired and sore, but for the most part I can ignore it.

She checks me all over. “Are you sure?”

I nod.

“Well, if you don’t, let me know. I picked up your prescription this afternoon if you need it.”

I hug her, squeezing her tight. “Thank you.”

“Are you sure you don’t want cocoa?”

I know she wants to feel useful. There isn’t much she can do for me, so I smile. “You know what? That would be great.”

Her eyes sparkle and I follow her into the kitchen where she starts heating the milk for the cocoa.

Next to me on the counter there’s a stack of mail, and I lift it up to see if there’s anything interesting. Normally, the majority of our mail is from credit card companies trying to get us to sign up for a new card. Sometimes we’re blessed with coupons for the different fast food places in the area, which, if I’m honest, is the sole purpose I picked up the pile.

One letter sticks out. It’s addressed to Mama, and it’s from the hospital she used to work at. “What’s this?”

Mama peeks over. “Oh, that’s nothing. They’ve been sending me those letters for weeks.”

I open the letter and skim over the words. “Mama, have you read this? They’re offering you a ten percent raise if you come back.”

She shrugs. “I don’t have time for it. I’m too busy to start working again.”

I tilt my head and raise an eyebrow. “But you loved it, and you were the best. They’re literally begging you to come back.” I hold it up for her to see.

She waves it away. “It’s been too long.”

“I know you haven’t let your license expire.”

“That’s different. I haven’t worked in almost three years. I’ve probably lost my edge.”

My mother has most definitely not lost her edge. She might not think she practices, but she is constantly reminding everyone around her she is in fact a nurse. It doesn’t matter she worked in labor and delivery, if there is anything remotely medical brought up, she shares her two cents. To be fair, half the time she tells wild, non-medically-accurate stories, but we all know to take them with a grain of salt.

“You should call them. Just hear them out.”

She’d love it, and it would give her something to focus on other than me. It would also mean that Papa wouldn’t have to work as much. It’s the perfect solution.

Mama opens the fridge to find whipped cream, conveniently not answering.

She may be stubborn, but I’m a miniature version of her. “At least tell me you’ll think about it.”

Her mouth opens like she’s about to protest, but I cut her off. “You don’t have to say yes. Just don’t say no. Not yet.”

“Fine,” she says. “I will think about it, but no promises.”

“Thank you.” I smile big, and give her another quick hug. Bringing babies into the world has always been her favorite thing, and taking care of people comes second nature to her. I know if she jumped back into it, she’d fall in love with it all over again.

The afternoon goes by fast and before I know it, we’ve finished our homework and eaten dinner. Then we each grab a blanket and huddle on the couch with a bowl of ice cream. Annie, being the hopeless romantic she is, and me, being the people pleaser I am, somehow create the perfect combination for us choosing her favorite movie—Leap Year. I have to admit, I do love a good Amy Adams movie, but this is probably the eighth time we’ve watched it this year alone.

My sister’s face glows, smiling and giggling as if she’s never seen it before. She pats my leg repeatedly. “Look! It’s the best part.”

But instead of watching the movie, I watch her. I wish more people got to see her this way. Whenever we’re around anyone other than family, she closes up, refusing to talk. It’s like she doesn’t want people to know how cool she is.

“You’re missing the movie,” Annie says, holding a pillow close. “He’s about to kiss her.”

I laugh and turn my eyes back to the happy couple.

She sighs.

“What’s that for?” I ask.

She leans into the pillow. “Do you think I’m pretty?”

I laugh. “Is this a trick question? We have the same face.”

“I’m serious. Do you think guys think I’m pretty?”

I give her a look to make sure she knows just how ridiculous her question is. “Of course they do. You’re gorgeous.”

“Then why don’t the guys at school seem to notice me?”

“Maybe, and I could be wrong, but maybe it’s because you spend all your time reading books instead of interacting with other humans.”

She shoves the pillow at me. “Hey!”

I hold up my hands in surrender. “I said I could be wrong.”

She falls back into the couch with another sigh. “You know you aren’t.”

“Then why don’t you try talking to people.”

She takes her pillow back. “Reading people’s conversations is easier than having my own.”

“Why does it matter?”

Her cheeks redden, and she hides her face. “I can’t tell you.”

“Oh, come on. Since when do we keep secrets from each other?” My hypocritical words are heavy on my tongue as if it’s dirty for them to leave my mouth.

“Because you’ll think it’s silly.” Her voice is muffled behind the pillow.

I tug it away. “I will not.”

“Yes, you will.”

“I promise I won’t.”

She twists her lips, staring me down. “I don’t believe you.”

I squint. “Is it really that embarrassing?”

She groans, tossing her head back. “You’re not going to let this go now, are you?”

I cross my arms. “Nope. So you might as well tell me.”

She takes a breath, letting her shoulders fall. Then, she mumbles something I can’t understand.

“Come again?”

“I want to . . .”

I gently shake her shoulders. “Louder.”

“I want to fall in love!”

We lock eyes and both burst into laughter.

She rests her head on the back of the couch, squeezing her eyes shut. “See, I told you, you’d make fun of me.”

“I’m only laughing because you yelled that into my face.”

She rolls her eyes. “Mm-hmm, whatever.”

I have to help her. I’m going to leave a void, and the only thing I can do is try to fill it as much as possible before I go. That means if she wants to fall in love, I’ll make sure it happens.

Wasting no time, I sit up, fully facing her. “What about Ricky?”

Her eyebrows pinch together, and her mouth falls open. “What about Ricky?”

“Well, he’s nice and cute.”

“I don’t need you to play matchmaker,” she says, slipping her arms into her jacket.

“You said you want to fall in love, so why don’t you try putting yourself out there a little?”

She covers her ears. “I can’t hear you.”

I pull her hands off her ears. “Come on, stop acting like a little kid who still believes in cooties.”

Her cheeks flush. “It’s embarrassing to talk about.”

“Do you think someone is magically going to drop into your life and sweep you off your feet? Because that only happens in movies.”

She drops her gaze.

I cross my arms. “Annie, what aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing,” she says.

“Annie?”

There’s a timid smile followed by a sparkle in her eyes. “Maybe life is like the movies, Margo.”

“Are you about to tell me you actually talked to another person?”

She shies away, blushing again. “I may have had the perfect meet cute in the library—just like the ones I read about. I was trying to reach a book on the top shelf, and he came up behind me and grabbed it for me.”

Maybe she doesn’t need my help after all. Here I was thinking my sweet closed-off sister needed me to make her dreams come true, but she was out there having her very own movie moment. “Who was it?”

She looks away.

“Annie,” I say, grasping her arm.

She refuses to look at me and whispers, “It was Daniel.”

Daniel? Of all people . . . Daniel? That’s completely unacceptable. I don’t want Daniel anywhere near Annie. Ever.

I gasp. “No.”

She smiles big and nods.

I playfully smack her shoulder. “I thought we talked about this.”

She shields herself. “I’m telling you, he’s a good guy. I can feel it.”

Oh dear, Daniel, you vile creature, how did you brainwash my sister?

I’m internally screaming at my innocent, gullible sister. Grabbing a book off the top shelf does not equal boyfriend material. “Did he say anything?”

She shakes her head. “But I have this feeling . . . if he knew me, he’d like me back.”

I rub my temples, trying to calm my headache. “I have three classes with him, and I don’t think he’s the guy for you.”

She pouts. “Only because he’ll never notice me.”

“No. Because he’s a jerk.”

She tilts her head and glares like it’ll change my mind. “He’s not. He’s misunderstood.”

I grimace, melting into the couch. “Please don’t tell me you’re an ‘I can fix him’ girl.”

“I don’t need to fix him. He’s quiet, like me, and I bet if someone took the time to get to know him, he wouldn’t seem so scary.”

I cross my arms. “Or you’d end up on the missing-persons list.”

Her face gets serious, and she looks me directly in the eyes. “I’m serious. I know he’s a good person.”

“Then go talk to him. Go notice him.”

Her eyes dart away. “I can’t. I don’t want him to think I’m a stalker.”

“You are a stalker.”

She pushes me. “It would be awkward. I’m not the type of person who goes up to people like that, even with our friends. They always start out as your friends, and I get looped in because I’m your sister.”

What I’m hearing is she’s the kind of person who wants someone to notice her, not the other way around, only reaffirming the fact this boy is undeniably the wrong person for her.

I have to show her how awful he really is. I have to completely crush her fantasy, and then I can help her find someone that’ll actually treat her right.

CHAPTER SEVEN

DANIEL

There’s a timid knock at the door, one I’ve come to resent.

“Breakfast is ready,” Laura says.

I peel myself off my bed, eyes bloodshot from my lack of sleep. No matter how hard I try, I can never rest here.

It’s not my room.

I have a new backpack, one with padded straps and so many pockets I’ve lost count, but I reach for my beat-up messenger bag instead. I don’t need anything new or fancy. What I had before was fine.

I slip out of my room to see Laura waiting patiently in the hallway with a brown sack and a bagel.

“Here,” she says, holding it out.

I’ve skipped so many meals that now she’s resorted to surprise attacks. She puts the food in my hands, and before I have time to argue, Olive comes out of her room.

“Ah, I see the devil has risen,” she says, eyeing me with a smile.

“Olive, behave,” Laura replies.

I push past them and head for the front door. I don’t want to go to school, but it’s better than being stuck here where I’m expected to be grateful for them taking me in. I’m not oblivious to the reason they took me in. They felt guilty. They knew I had nowhere else to go.

“Wait for Olive,” Laura calls after me.

I scoff as I walk down the porch. The bus stop isn’t far, but it’s strange. I’ve never taken the city bus to school before living here. I always rode one of the ugly yellow ones, so I’m still getting used to using the city bus instead.

The bus comes barreling down the road and stops next to me. The doors open, but my attention is elsewhere. Olive is still a good thirty feet away.

“Getting on?” the bus driver asks.

I turn back toward the bus and climb in, and a part of me doesn’t want to say anything. But as I scan the back of my card, I say, “My cousin is still coming. She’ll be here in just a second.”

The bus driver looks in their mirror and nods.

I walk toward the back of the bus and sit down on one of the hard blue seats. Olive comes in and immediately the bus begins to roll again. I watch as she passes all the front seats even though it’s hard to stay balanced walking to the back.

She sits next to me, and I shift closer to the wall.

“You know,” she says, pausing, “if I wanted to take the bus, I’d leave on time.”

“What?”

“Don’t tell the driver to wait for me. I’d rather miss it and have Mom drive me.”

She can’t be serious.

“I’d way rather have heated seats and music.” She sighs. Then, I follow her gaze to my bagel. She grabs it, taking a big bite out of the side even though we’re not supposed to eat on the bus.

I stare at her, wordless.

“Sorry,” she mumbles through the mouthful. “Do you want the rest?”

Is she really asking me if I want my half-eaten bagel back?

I shake my head. “No. I’m good.”

“Your loss,” she says.

“Does Josh bother you a lot?” I ask, remembering how Josh put his arms around her. I wanted to ask her sooner, but hadn’t had the chance to yet.

“I can handle Josh. He’s not that bad.”

“What does that mean?”

“Forget it. I’m pretty sure you scared him off anyway.”

I don’t know whether or not to believe her, but I’m too tired to keep asking questions. I stare out the window to clear my head.

My first period class is physics, and it’s my least favorite. I can’t help but drift off to sleep every time the teacher starts talking. When am I ever going to get a job where I need to know how light waves bend around objects? I’m not one of those people with a long list of ambitions. I don’t even plan on going to college. Just give me my diploma, and I’ll work at a gas station in the middle of nowhere for all I care.

Today is no different. There’s a high probability I’m wrong, but I think we’re talking about something to do with kinetic energy. Again, I’m probably wrong considering I haven’t paid attention since the moment I first walked in.

My head is buried in my arms as I lean on the desk. My eyes are heavy, and I lose myself in my dreams, or nightmares . . . if I’m being honest.

It’s always the same day, the day Grandma wandered off. There had been other times when she couldn’t remember where she was going or went looking for Mom even though Mom was dead, but this was the first time I couldn’t fix it. She left while I was at school, and I came home to an empty home. At first I thought she had gone out to buy groceries even though I had begged her not to leave the house without me, but her wallet and phone were on the counter.

I went out searching for her, calling her name at the top of my lungs, but I couldn’t find her. After two hours of looking for her, I came home and saw a cop car parked in front of our house. Grandma was getting out of the back.

“Grandma!” I called, wiping any trace of tears away from my face. I collapsed into her, squeezing her tight. “Where were you?”

“I went on a walk. Everyone is overreacting,” she said.

The police officer’s gaze drifted to our house. “Ma’am, is there anyone else I can talk to at home?”

Grandma shook her head. “It’s just us. This is my grandson, Daniel.”

The officer smiled at me, but I could see the wheels turning in his head as he took in our run-down home. The grass was tall, and the gutter needed to be fixed. Not to mention the poorly patched roof.

“Ma’am, I’d like to speak with Daniel for a moment.”

Grandma nodded. “Don’t cause any trouble,” she told me as she went inside.

Then the officer sat down on our porch.

I refused to sit because I could sense an uneasiness in the air between us. I wanted to stand my ground and look firm.

“Are your parents around?”

I shook my head. “My mom died when I was little, and I don’t know who my father is.”

“No other family?”

“Not any that’s close. It’s just us.”

He sucked in a breath. “How often does your grandma forget things?”

“This is the first time something like this has ever happened.” I thought if I said it enough, it would be believable.

“She doesn’t forget who people are or where she’s going?”

“Never.” It wasn’t true. She’d been forgetting things every single day. Sometimes she’d get upset when I corrected her, so on most days I went along with her broken memories, playing whatever part I needed to in order to keep her happy.

“It might be a good idea for her to see a doctor just to make sure this isn’t something that’s become a larger problem.”

“Yeah, we can do that,” I said, trying to finish our conversation and get him out of there.

“Danny,” Grandma said, poking her head back outside.

“What is it?” I asked.

“When will your mom be home from work?” she asked.

My heart sank as the officer looked between us with his eyebrow raised.

“It’ll be awhile,” I said, head hanging low, knowing I wasn’t going to be able to talk my way out of this. I just told the officer my mom died. It was blatantly obvious that Grandma was forgetting.

Most days she knew my mom was gone, but she was forgetting more and more often. Every time I told her the truth, I saw her relive my mom’s death. Sometimes it was easier to pretend that Mom was just out . . .

The next day CPS knocked on our door.

CHAPTER EIGHT

MARGO

I have a notebook I take everywhere with me. I love journaling and creating spreadsheets each month full of lists I can check off. It’s exhilarating to mark off each task until everything has been accomplished. Journaling makes me feel like I’m in control of my life. It gives me a sense of order. Unfortunately, my current notebook is almost full. I need a new one, but I haven’t had the time to buy one.

I want to write down my list of things to do before I die. I know what to write next to my parents’ names. Mama quit her job a while ago. She’s spent the last few years doting over me to the point she doesn’t know who she was before I got sick. And Papa started working himself to the bone when Mama quit her job. He’s a good person, but by the time he comes home every day, he’s exhausted. I’m going to help Mama go back to work, something she can focus on other than me. She loved being a labor and delivery nurse. She just needs someone to give her the push to go back. With Papa, I’m going to do the opposite. I want to help him relax. He needs to work less.

Annie is harder. I didn’t know what to do for her at first, but after last night I had an epiphany. I need to help Annie fall in love. Right now she likes Daniel, and I won’t rest until she’s moved on with someone else.

I pause as soon as I walk into my physics class, then groan. On the whiteboard are our new assigned seats. I wish Mrs. Wilkson would let us pick our partners, but she insists on choosing them herself. If I had it my way, I’d partner with Cameryn, but it seems like she’s already paired up with Tyler. To be fair, we’d probably talk too much.

“I’ve paired you up with Daniel,” Mrs. Wilkson says.

I grimace. Of course she did. For some reason I can’t get away from him. “Isn’t there someone else I could partner with?”

“We’ll rotate partners again next semester,” Mrs. Wilkson says. “Please sit down so I can begin class.”

My feet drag as I near Daniel, who’s sitting at the table in the far corner of the room. His head is tucked into his arms, sleeping. He isn’t even trying to pay attention. This is going to be an awful month. I’m going to get stuck doing all the work myself.

He is the last person in this room I want to be paired up with.

I set down my books and listen as Mrs. Wilkson explains the assignment we’re supposed to work on for today. After about ten minutes she tells us to begin.

I turn, taking in Daniel and his dark blond hair and long lashes. His eyebrows are furrowed as beads of sweat build up on his forehead. He doesn’t look scary at this moment. If anything, he looks like he needs someone to pull him out of whatever he’s dreaming about.

Maybe he’s sick?

Without thinking, I reach out to check the temperature of his forehead. He’s warm, but I don’t think he has a fever.

He flinches, jerking away from my touch. His head whips up, eyes wide. “Who touched me?” It takes him a half second to find me, and when he does, his eyes darken.

A shiver runs down my back, but I won’t let him intimidate me. Instead, I hold out my hand. With complete confidence I say, “Hi, I’m Margo.”

He wipes his face where I touched him as if he’s trying to rub any trace of me away. “So?”

My smile is so forced at this point. I can’t believe I have to work with him. It’s not fair. I can already tell he isn’t going to help at all. He’s going to make me do everything and expect to steal my grade. “So I’m your new lab partner.”

He sets his head back down. “Go find someone else.”

I wish. “It’s not like I chose you.”

“That sounds like a ‘you’ problem.”

Aw. Charming.

I can’t believe Annie actually thinks this guy is her prince charming. He’s awful. Rude. Disrespectful.

I set down my binder and open it up. “No.”

“No?” There’s a hint of shock in his voice like he’s surprised someone challenged him.

“I have straight A’s, and you’re not going to ruin that for me.” I don’t make eye contact as I speak because part of me wants to hide under a rock, far away from the dark cloud brewing next to me, but I refuse to show him that.

His glare intensifies. “Shut up and leave me alone.”

My heart speeds up, but I don’t flinch. I stare right back. He thinks he’s a tough guy who can get away with pushing people around, but I will show him he’s wrong. I also don’t react well to people telling me I can’t do something. So I lean in closer to try and intimidate him back. “You don’t scare me.”

His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t reply. His gaze breaks, and he shakes his head before putting it right back down.

My chest starts to burn. I won’t let him ignore me.

I push his arm. “Hey, we have to talk about the assignment.”

“Prepare yourself for your first F.”

My jaw locks. “Fine, I’ll decide who does what.” I take out a fresh piece of paper and draw a line down the center with my pen. On one-half I write my name, and on the other side I write Daniel. Then I start writing down the different questions we’re supposed to research. Knowing he isn’t going to try very hard, I give him the easier ones. I tear the paper in half and set it next to him. “This is your homework. Don’t lose it.”

He doesn’t move.

I clear my throat as heat begins to rise to my cheeks. There’s nothing on his desk, so it’s not like I can stuff the paper into a binder. I’m also not about to put it into his pocket because that feels too personal.

Next to his chair is his bag. He has to be the only boy in this school with a messenger bag. I reach for it.

The second my fingers touch it, he jumps up, stealing it away from me. “Don’t touch that.”

I cross my arms. “If you listened to me, I wouldn’t have to.”

He stares at me like I’m the most annoying person he’s ever been forced to talk to. “I’m warning you.”

I lean in. “What’cha going to do? Feed me to sharks? Burn down my house?” I set down my paper in front of him. “All I need you to do is put this into your bag so you don’t lose it. Then, I’ll leave you alone.”

He picks up the paper and tears it into pieces. “I can’t lose something that doesn’t exist.” He stands, slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder.

My mouth hangs open. “What are you doing?”

“Leaving.”

How am I supposed to get anything done with this feral boy? “But class isn’t over.”

“I noticed,” he says, walking away as if he isn’t about to get another round of detention.

Cameryn runs up to me as soon as class is over. She links arms with me as I walk out. “What was that about?”

I sigh. “I don’t know. But he’s giving me a headache.”

“Maybe you should try letting some of your personality rub off on him.”

Forcing someone like him to act like a human being isn’t something I have time for. “I doubt he’d cooperate.”

She slows down. “You seem kind of down. Is something wrong?”

I dodge her question. “Hypothetically, if you were going to set my sister up with someone, who would it be?”

Cameryn laughs. “Where’s this coming from?”

“Just answer the question.”

She taps her chin. “What about Micah?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Micah? The same Micah who ran through the hallway in his boxers in eighth grade?”

She giggles. “I forgot about that, but come on, that was forever ago. I have a couple classes with him, and he’s matured a lot.”

Is he the best option? Probably not, but he’s better than Daniel. “Do you think you could get him to sit with us at lunch today?”

She tilts her head and twists her mouth. “I could try.”

“Thank you,” I say.

“Why do you want to set your sister up so bad?”

I hold my finger in the air. “Hypothetically.”

“Sure,” Cameryn says, nudging me in the side.

I set down my tray next to Annie at lunch. “I’ve come to a decision.”

She peeks up at me from her book. “What?”

“You can’t like him.”

She sets the book down and laughs lightly. “Oh, you’ve decided that, have you?”

I nod, perching my head on my hand. “He’s not even in here because he has lunch detention. You can’t be with a guy like that.”

“I already told you, it’s an act. He isn’t really like that.”

How is she so oblivious? I need a way to rip off her rose-colored glasses, and fast. “He even left class a half-hour early. He’s rude and irresponsible, and I’m stuck with him as my lab partner.”

Her eyes land on me. I have her full attention now. “He’s your lab partner?”

I nod. “Unfortunately.”

“I would trade you in a heartbeat.”

“Look around,” I say, gesturing to the rest of the cafeteria. “Anyone else here would be a better option than Daniel. If you want to fall in love so badly, I’ll introduce you to anybody else you want.”

She squints, trying to read me. “That’s oddly suspicious.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“You always look for the best in people. I’m the cynical one, not you.” She leans in and whispers. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say maybe you like him too.”

My jaw falls to the floor. “Absolutely not. I can guarantee that thought has never crossed my mind.”

She sits back. “Good.”

“Good?”

“If you liked him, I wouldn’t have a chance.”

I hate that she thinks so low of herself. “That’s not true. You’re smart and beautiful. Anyone could see that, if you gave them a chance and opened up.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Anyone?”

I cross my arms. “Anyone but Daniel.”

“Good thing I’m older than you, so I don’t have to listen to you.”

I roll my eyes. “A whole two minutes.”

She shrugs. “I don’t make the rules.”

“Fine. Go find your prince charming and see for yourself what kind of person he is. I’m telling you, you’ll be disappointed.”

She picks up her book. “I’m going to wait and let things happen naturally.”

This is why she never makes friends. Even when she likes a person, she never makes the first move to engage with them. She’s not the type of person to go up to someone and talk by choice.

“What if you waste all your time waiting for Daniel, and it isn’t worth it? Let me introduce you to someone else.” I’m practically begging at this point.

She continues reading with a laugh. “I’m only seventeen. It’s not like this is time sensitive. I have my whole life ahead of me, and I’ll fall in love when the time is right. Maybe it’ll be Daniel. Maybe it won’t.”

I’m itching to tell her the truth. Yes, this is time sensitive. I can’t die peacefully knowing that she has bad taste in men. If not Daniel, who next?

Daniel is bad news. If she won’t take my word for it, I’ll make sure he shows her himself.

And the sooner I do that, the better.

Cameryn slides into the seat next to me. “Hey, guys,” she says. Next to her is Micah. He gingerly sits down next to Annie with his tray of food, like he isn’t sure if he should sit or not.

Cameryn smiles at me. “Mission accomplished,” she whispers.

“Cameryn said you had some questions on your English homework,” he says, looking directly at me.

I glance at Cameryn, and she shrugs.

“Right,” I say. “Are you good at English?”

“I’m not half bad,” he says.

Maybe he isn’t a bad choice for Annie. They can bond over this.

Forget English homework, I’m going to ask him the important questions. “Do you like to read?”

“What?” He raises an eyebrow.

I take a bite. “Do you?”

“I guess so.”

“Did you hear that, Annie? He likes to read,” I say.

Annie glares at me from behind her book. “You better get started on that homework.” She stands up. “I need to go to the library. I’ll see you later.”

Once she leaves, Cameryn leans in. “Hypothetically, that didn’t go well.”

Tell me about it.

I spent all night long trying to figure out what to do. I want Daniel to somehow show Annie his true colors, but to do that, I need him to spend time with her. But talking to her once might not be enough. I need him to take her on the worst date of her life. If that happens, she won’t be able to deny how awful he is. I know getting Daniel to do anything is going to be hard. If I ask him to go talk to Annie, he’ll say no. He has no reason to help me.

I have to do something for him. Something big enough it’ll give me leverage when I ask him to take Annie out. My time is precious, and I’m not about to waste any of it. I can’t help Annie until she sees Daniel for all that he is—an overgrown man-child with anger issues.

My feet hit the floor, patting around until they come across my slippers. I slip into my fluffy pink bunny slippers, which immediately make me feel five percent better.

Then, I walk across the floor to the curtains and pull them open. “Rise and shine.”

Annie groans from the other side of the room. “I don’t need to get up.”

“Yes, you do. You have to get ready for school. I need to get there early.”

“I’m already ready,” she says.

I pull back her sheets, revealing she went to bed in her outfit for the day.

“Pajamas are way more comfortable,” I say. “You should try them sometime.”

She grabs the sheets and covers herself back up. “Sleeping is better.”

“No, no, no,” I say, trying to stop her. “You should at least do your hair.”

“I’ll throw it in a braid.”

“You want to fall in love, but you won’t even try to dress up and put yourself out there?”

“I didn’t say I wanted to fall in love today. The universe is telling me I need more beauty sleep.”

“Fine.” I walk over to her backpack and take out her favorite book. “This spine is so nice and unbroken. I wonder what would happen if I cracked it—”

“Don’t you dare!” she says, jumping out of bed.

I laugh, running away from her.

She chases me and grabs it out of my hand. She clutches it to her chest. “You’re safe now.”

“I don’t want to alarm you, but it can’t hear you.”

She takes it and pretends to swat me with it. “You’re the worst.”

“But you love me,” I say, framing my face with my hands.

“That doesn’t mean I have to like you,” she says, pouting as she looks longingly at her bed.

I take her hand, lead her to her vanity, and sit her down in front of the mirror. “What do you want me to do to your hair today?”

“Whatever you think looks best.”

As I run the brush through it, my heart aches a little. I miss my long hair. Mine is short and choppy, just below my chin. It also grew back wiry. Annie’s, on the other hand, is silky smooth and jaw-droppingly gorgeous—probably because she never uses heat on it. That’s why it physically pains me to see her just throw it up in a messy bun every morning. I want her to show it off. I love trying all sorts of styles on it, and I know she secretly likes it too. Otherwise, she’d argue more.

“I’m thinking two Dutch braids.”

She shrugs. “You’re the boss.”

I get to work, parting her hair down the middle. Then, I twist her hair and weave it into the thickest Dutch braids ever.

Annie smiles at her reflection. “It’s cute.”

That’s Annie’s version of saying she loves it. She doesn’t show much emotion, but having her acknowledge it alone is a win.

I hug her around the shoulders. “Don’t you dare take it out after first period.”

She laughs and rolls her eyes. “I won’t.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Good. Because if you leave it in, you’ll have pretty curls tomorrow if you sleep in them.”

She smirks. “So what you’re saying is, I won’t have to get up early tomorrow if I leave it in?”

I nod.

“Done,” she says.

I grab two pairs of earrings and hold one of each pair up to my face. One is a giant red cherry that hangs low and the other is a clay orange with white flowers and green leaves. “Which one do you like better?”

She raises her eyebrows. “I’m not wearing either.”

“For me. Not you.”

“Oh good. I was going to say, fruit earrings are kind of your thing. I respect it, but I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing them.”

How could anyone not like these earrings? They’re so cute. “Excuse you. That would be an honor.”

She laughs, shaking her head.

“So imagine you’re me—someone who likes fruit earrings. Which ones would you choose?”

She squints, turning her head to study them. “If I absolutely had to and there were no other options, I’d choose the cherries.”

“Thank you. Was that so hard?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Liar,” I say, looping my cherry earrings into place. I bob my head, letting them sway back and forth. “I love them.”

“Well, you are one of the only people who can pull them off and look good.”

“We literally have the same face.”

She waves her finger. “Nuh-uh. Don’t even start. I already said no.”

I sigh. “Okay, your loss.”

She grabs her backpack. “So why do we have to go in so early today?”

Because I’m going to find Daniel the second he steps in the building and confront him. “I have to talk to my physics teacher about the assignment I’m working on.”

I do have to talk to my physics teacher at some point today because I couldn’t figure out one of the answers to our homework, so it’s not too suspicious. Lies are always more believable when you base them on a true statement.

“I’m glad I opted out of physics. Just the thought of it makes my brain hurt.”

I take her arm and pull her along. “How is botany?”

“I’ve never paid attention to flowers this much in my life.”

I laugh as we head out of the room and down the hallway for breakfast.

CHAPTER NINE

DANIEL

“I won’t go. You can’t make me!” I had yelled at Grandma during one of her more lucid moments. Her memory had only gotten worse over the next few weeks.

“I don’t want you to go either, but you have to,” she said.

I shook my head. “No! If you wanted me, you wouldn’t be giving up on us like this. You’d find a way.”

“They’re right. I can’t take care of you anymore—”

“But I can take care of us!” I had been doing that for months. I was the one making sure the bills were paid on time. I was the one cleaning the house. I was the one making sure Grandma was fed every meal.

Grandma looked down. “No. I’m not going to ask you to do that.”

My eyes stung. “Just say it. Say you don’t want me anymore.”

“I never said that.”

“But it’s true. You want an excuse to get rid of me.”

She never acted like she wanted me around. I was a burden. That’s why she never let me have friends or do anything other than studying and doing chores. I thought if I tried hard enough, eventually she’d tell me that I was doing a good job, that she loved me. But maybe she never did.

Grandma tried to reach out to me, but I wouldn’t let her touch me. “Leave me alone! You already said you don’t want me anymore.”

“That’s not what I said!”

“If you wanted me, you’d try harder to stop them from taking me!”

I jerk up in bed, breathing heavy with sweaty palms. The red numbers on the alarm clock shine bright. It’s not time to get up yet, but I know I won’t be able to sleep anymore.

My eyes adjust to the light, letting the rest of the room come into focus. I reach for my clothes sitting on the desk chair next to my bed. I always have my things ready to go—no permanent roots and always ready to flee.

The cool fabric sends a shiver down my back as I pull it over my head. A second later I slip my black hoodie on.

Then I lie back down and stare at the ceiling. I don’t like the quiet because I don’t like to be alone with my thoughts. My brain replays a never-ending war of emotions. It’s too loud. I remember things a little too well. I can picture moments in time from when I was little in perfect detail, but they aren’t happy. I don’t remember my mom, and Grandma never talked about her. My mom made a lot of bad choices, and sometimes I wonder if Grandma was punishing me because she couldn’t punish my mom anymore. I was someone she could take her frustration out on.

When I was little, I used to think I was a bad kid because what mom doesn’t love her own child? What did I do to make myself so unlovable?

I shake my head and get up. I need to do something, anything other than what I’m doing right now.

My messenger bag sits at the corner of my bed, and I grab it. I take out my copy of Journey to the Center of the Earth. I thumb through the pages, skimming past my ugly handwriting in the margins until I find a page that’s fairly empty. I start writing down the heavy thoughts. My writing isn’t fancy or articulate. It’s messy and disjointed. I write down all the things I’m afraid to say out loud. I write down my hurt and anger, and then when I’m done, I close the book and pretend my feelings don’t matter again.

It might seem silly, but it helps me calm down.

There’s no point in sticking around for the rest of the household to get up. I might as well get breakfast and leave for school early. That’s the one plus side of taking the city bus to school. It comes three times an hour on the weekdays.

I head to the kitchen to see what I can find that’s quick and easy. Laura is a fairly organized person, and everything has a place in her kitchen. I have to admit the pantry is impressive. She has everything from cereal to quinoa in plastic containers, all labeled and put on the shelves to create a uniform look. I grab one of the protein bars she has and turn to leave.

“You’re up early,” Laura says. She’s decked from head to toe in her running gear.

My hand flies to my neck, and I stare at my shoes. “I have something I need to get done before school starts.”

Laura checks her watch. “Well, I need to take a quick shower, but I can drive you if you don’t mind waiting a minute. I need to head to the gym for my spin class anyway.”

“No. I’ll take the bus.”

She blinks, surprised by my quick reaction. “I really don’t mind.”

“I don’t have time to wait. I have to head out now,” I say.

“Okay,” she says. “Maybe tomorrow then.”

I give her a slight nod and shuffle past.

“Have a good day,” she says.

“Thanks,” I mumble right before I’m out of earshot.

The ride to school is peaceful. There’s only a handful of people on the bus, and no one is awake enough to talk. The bus driver doesn’t even say hi. It’s as ideal as it gets. If anything, it’s too short. I’d rather stay on the bus like that than enter into the zoo of teenagers we call a school.

Reluctantly, I reach up and tug on the cord when we near my stop.

“Stop requested,” says the bus’s automated voice.

The bus rolls to a stop, and I hop out the side door.

There are a few people here already, mainly teachers. I don’t understand how they all can wake up as early as they do. I would never get up this early by choice.

Once inside, I walk to the library because it seems like the least likely place for other people to be. Reading is another thing I don’t often do by choice, but I like the quietness of the library.

I sit at one of the far tables and fold my arms over it, resting my head. Time never seems to pass fast enough, but today it does. Before I know it, the hallways are bustling with students, which is my cue to head to my first class.

I stand, making sure my messenger bag is strapped over my shoulders, and start weaving through the rows of books. I turn the corner and slam right into a girl with a stack of books a mile high.

She shrieks, falling to the ground and scattering the books.

“Sorry,” I say, but it’s barely above a whisper.

“It’s okay. It was my fault.” Her face burns red, and she’s quick to start patting the ground around her. “I need my glasses.”

I kneel down to pick them up. “Here,” I say, placing them in her hand. Then I grab the books, stacking them in my arms.

“Thanks.” She puts the glasses on and immediately freezes, staring at me.

Right away, I recognize the big brown eyes. They catch me off guard, and I have to do a double take. “Margo?”

“Annie,” she whispers. “Margo’s sister.”

“Oh.” I help her up and hand her the books.

“Thank . . . you,” she says, eyes still ginormous.

There’s a long and awkward pause where I try to figure out what to do next.

“Sorry again,” I say.

She nods.

I stagger back, and I swear she watches me walk out.

I head to my locker to put my hoodie away since the school finally decided to turn on the heat, and for some reason they can’t figure out how to keep it from turning into a sauna. I pull it over my head and hang it on the hook inside. Then, I close my locker.

Big brown eyes stare directly at me again. “Miss me?”

I jump back, and it takes everything in my power not to yelp.

This time it is Margo. I’m sure of it. Her hair is short, and she has massive cherry earrings. She stands in front of me in a blue dress, flashing a smile from ear to ear.

“No.” Why should I?

Her smile twitches. “Oh, well, I guess the feeling is mutual.”

And yet she doesn’t appear to be leaving anytime soon.

“What’s your problem?”

She stands up straighter, smiles brighter, and takes a deep breath. “I have a question for you.”

“Which is?” The sooner I answer it, the sooner she’ll leave me alone.

“If you could have anything you want right now, what would it be?” she asks.

My answer should be obvious. “For you to leave me alone.”

Her nose scrunches up. “Anything . . . ,” she says, holding up a finger, “but that.”

This girl is something else. Why does she care what I want? I want to crawl away into some dark hole in the middle of nowhere. I want to go the rest of the day without having anyone talk to me.

I walk away, ignoring her.

She hurries to catch up, running in front of me to block me from walking. “I’m really good at finding things. If there’s a baseball card you want to find, I’m your girl. Or if you want me to carry your bag for a week in between classes, I wouldn’t mind. I could even bring you homemade lunches. Name it, anything, and I’ll do it.”

“Go away.”

She glares at me, which is hard to take seriously with her ridiculous earrings. She takes a deep breath and goes right back to where she was before. “I could even do your homework for you. That’s not something I’d normally do, but I’d make an exception for you this one time.”

She’s harder to drown out than Laura. I didn’t know that was possible.

“I don’t want anything.”

She crosses her arms. “Everyone wants something.”

“Leave. Me. Alone,” I say, flicking her forehead to get her to back up.

Her jaw drops as she reaches up to touch her forehead. “Jerk.”

I head to class.

Maybe she’ll get the message and stop harassing me.

“I’ll figure it out even if you don’t tell me,” she calls after me.

CHAPTER TEN

MARGO

I sit at the lunch table, taking an overly aggressive bite of my apple. The crunch echoes against my teeth as I chew. My eyes are laser set on none other than Daniel across the cafeteria.

I hate him. I truly do.

Doesn’t he realize the opportunity I’m trying to give him? Anyone else would jump on my offer in a heartbeat. And yet, he has to go and act like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

Annie sits down in front of me. She’s trying to hold back a smile, but it keeps poking through her cold mask. “Guess what.”

Normally, I don’t have a hard time figuring out what’s on her mind. She likes books, caramel, and the viola. But something tells me this is different. That she did something outside of the box.

“What?”

“You’ll never guess what I did this morning,” she says.

“You ordered a special edition book?”

She shakes her head. “Nope. Not even close.”

“Did you fail a test?”

She grimaces. “Definitely not.”

“Then tell me.”

Her smile breaks free in full force. “I talked to him.”

I choke on my apple.

“Are you okay?” She hands me my drink.

No. Not okay. My body is completely rejecting the idea of my sister ever being with him. I take a sip of my milk, continuing to cough until I can breathe again. I set the milk down. “You what? When?”

Her eyes light up, doing a little happy dance inside of her brain.

I repeat: not okay.

“I ran into him at the library again. Literally,” she says. “I dropped everything, and he helped me pick it up. I think he might’ve even smiled.” She holds up two fingers, pinching them together. “Just a little. Maybe. I don’t want to overthink it.”

Smile? Daniel? No. I can’t even picture it. I don’t think he was born with the necessary muscles in his face.

Annie sets her elbow on the table and rests her head on her hand. “I mean . . . he’s so dreamy.”

My gaze shifts back to Daniel. He’s not ugly. I’ll give her that. He’s kind of cute in a dark and mysterious way . . . if you liked that kind of thing. I don’t. I wouldn’t be caught dead with someone like that. I don’t see the appeal.

I’ve never really given much thought about the type of guy I’d like. The first time I got sick was right around the time all of my friends were forming their first serious crushes, but I didn’t let myself go deeper than silly ones that lasted a few days. It wouldn’t have been fair for me to like someone when my future wasn’t guaranteed. Then when I got better, I still felt like a relationship with me was taboo. Everyone knew me as the girl who had cancer. I was scared, tainted by something out of my control.

Instead of forming a crush and giving someone the opportunity to reject me, I avoided those situations entirely. Besides, kisses are overrated. I know Annie thinks they are the best part of every movie she watches, but who cares if two people’s mouths touch? Half the time, the main characters don’t even have good chemistry.

“Did you hear what I said?” Annie asks.

“Huh?” My eyes focus on her again.

She gives me a look. “I was asking you if I could borrow your light purple dress tomorrow.”

“Why do you want that?”

She blushes. “Well, I was thinking about heading to the library again tomorrow morning, and I’ve already ran into Daniel there twice—”

“No!” I smack the table.

She jumps back. “No?”

Margo, reel yourself in . . .

“I mean . . . no, you can’t borrow that dress because . . . I tore it.” Believable? It’s a fifty-fifty shot.

“Since when? You wore it last week.”

“Since last week,” I say quickly.

“Oh, well I guess I’ll wear something else then.” She seems slightly disappointed, but I think she’ll perk back up soon enough. “Could I borrow something else?”

Not all of my clothes can have tears, unfortunately. “Yeah, sure.”

This has gone too far. She’s even wanting to dress up for the guy. There has to be someone else I could get her to like. I know Daniel is not the only mysterious boy who reads. “Do you remember Liam?”

There isn’t even a flicker of hope when I mention his name.

“Liam who?”

“Liam from orchestra. Remember how you used to talk about him all the time?”

Annie peers up from her book and raises an eyebrow. “That was three years ago.”

“Maybe we should invite him to eat lunch with us tomorrow.”

Annie closes her book and shakes her head slowly. “I don’t like Liam.”

“But I bet you would if you got to know him.”

“I know what you’re doing, and it isn’t going to work. You’re wrong about Daniel. You’ll see. I don’t want you wasting your time trying to set me up with anyone else. I want to give him a chance first.”

If Daniel thought I was determined and annoying earlier today, he’s seen nothing yet. He’s about to meet a whole new version of me because I need to fix this situation as fast as possible. I can’t let Annie fall any further down this rabbit hole.

When school finishes, I spot Daniel waiting at the bus stop surrounded by a bunch of other students. His eyes are on his feet, not caring about the world around him.

Does he really think he can get rid of me so easily? I’m Margaret Blakely, and once I start something, I don’t stop until I finish it.

I spot Annie coming out of the school and run to meet her. “Hey.”

“Is for horses,” she says.

I laugh even though she’s told me that joke more times than I can count. “I have something I need to do in town before I come home. I’ll take the city bus back home.”

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing important. I just have to return something.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you?”

I shake my head. “No, it’s okay. I know you have a lot of homework.”

She sighs. “Don’t remind me.”

I spot the city bus a block away. “I’ll text you.”

“You better,” she calls as I race to the stop.

I pull out my bus card so it’s ready to scan. I don’t want to be that person who makes everyone late because they’re trying to fish the card out of their bag after they’re already on the bus.

I wait as all of the other kids get on first. It’s only fair since they’ve been waiting longer. Daniel gets on about halfway through the group, but I keep a close eye on him. He heads to the back of the bus, which doesn’t surprise me at all.

When it’s finally my turn, I jump up and scan my card, smiling ear to ear. “Hello,” I say to the bus driver.

I walk to the back. The bus starts moving, making me wobble, but I refuse to sit down in the front. There is an empty spot with my name on it right next to Daniel. He doesn’t know it yet, but we have plans.

He rests his head on the window, and then his gaze meets mine.

I smile and wave.

He tries not to show any emotion, but his eyebrow twitches.

I’d be lying if I said I’m not enjoying this just a little. Because he acts like he doesn’t care about anything, it’s fun to get a reaction, no matter how small, out of him.

I sit. “Thought you could get rid of me?”

“Do I need a restraining order?” he mumbles.

My lips curve upwards. “Was that a joke?” I didn’t know he was capable of making those.

He closes his eyes. “No. It was a threat.”

“Just tell me what you want. What’s your wildest dream? Then, I’ll get it for you and leave you alone forever. You have my word.”

“Why?”

“I’ll explain later. If I tell you now, you won’t go along with it.”

He huffs. I imagine his eyes rolling even though they’re closed. “You’re a stalker.”

Me, the stalker? I’m not the one who’s been watching him non-stop for the last week and a half. That’s Annie. I haven’t even done much.

Well . . . I am following him home . . .

Oh man, I am a stalker.

Temporarily a stalker.

But I don’t want this. I’d rather be as far away from this guy as possible.

“I’m not stalking. I’m just stubborn, and apparently so are you.” I hug my backpack and use it as a pillow. “Is it so hard to think of one thing you want? Don’t you like anything? Games, food, music? Or is your soul so dark nothing brings you joy?”

I might as well be sitting next to a brick wall. He turns toward the window and no matter how many times I try to talk to him, he doesn’t reply. It’s like he’s tuned me out which is not something I’m used to. I’m the type of person that always has someone to talk to. I’m not the most popular person in our school, but I’m definitely not a nobody. People love to talk with me.

Because talking clearly isn’t working, I tap his shoulder a few times, trying to get a reaction.

He remains motionless with a straight face until he opens his eyes and pulls on the cord that signals the bus driver to stop.

“Is this where you’re getting off?” I stand up to let him out.

He pushes past me, not acknowledging my existence.

Is following him to his house too much? Probably—but I jump forward, hoping I don’t regret this. A chill hits me in the face as I exit the bus.

He walks fast, but it’s effortless, like he isn’t doing it on purpose. It’s his natural speed.

I hurry after him. I’m not that short, but I feel like I’m practically running to catch up to him.

“This is your last chance,” I call out. “I’m offering you the chance of a lifetime.”

Convincing? Tempting? Nothing. He doesn’t give me a speck of attention.

He turns to walk down the driveway leading to a yellow ranch with white trim. “Come any closer, and you’ll be trespassing,” he says with his face forward, not even giving me the courtesy of looking me in the eye.

He acknowledged me, though. That’s progress. Right?

I bite my lip, trying to figure out what to do. Is there another way to help Annie move on? A way that’s not as hard? There’s got to be. Daniel is impossible.

“Can I help you?”

I spin around.

The girl I saw in the hallway the other day stands behind me. She’s pretty, with long hair tied back in a ponytail. She wears a polka-dotted sweater, which I love, and wide jeans.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

She raises an eyebrow. “This is my house. What are you doing here?”

“Oh.” I cringe, cheeks burning. “Well I— Daniel— I’m trying to talk to him.”

She smiles. “Let me guess, he won’t talk to you.”

“How did you know?”

“I live with the guy.” She laughs. “I’m Olive. Daniel’s my cousin.”

“I’m Margo, Daniel’s lab partner.”

She studies me, no doubt noticing how awkward I am standing at the edge of their walkway. “Well, do you want to come inside? I doubt Daniel will come out of his room, but you could try.”

I can’t be trespassing if I’m being invited in by someone who lives in the house. My stomach turns, but I’ve come this far. I’m not about to back out now. “Lead the way.”

She walks to the door, me trailing behind.

My collar is hot and my palms are sweaty. For someone who’s not technically trespassing, why are my nerves on edge? Why does every step feel like I’m wading through cement?

Their house is nice. Very clean and bright. There are big windows that fill the whole house with light, and there are green plants in every corner possible.

Olive kicks off her shoes and heads straight for the kitchen.

Not knowing what else to do, I follow her. It’s not like I can go knock on Daniel’s door. Even I know that would be crossing the line.

“Do you want something to drink?” she asks.

“Sure,” I reply, standing close to the wall.

“So what’ll it be? I have some premium H2O out of the tap or some luxury, one of a kind, store-brand apple juice that’s been in our fridge for an unknown amount of time.”

I suck in a breath. “Wow, so many options.”

“For real.”

I smile. I like Olive’s humor. It reminds me of Annie. “Water is fine.”

She takes a glass from the cabinet, fills it up, then walks it over to me. “So what do you need to talk to Daniel about? It must be important if you came all the way here.”

I scratch the back of my neck. “Well, it’s kind of a long story. I need him to do something for me, but I know he’ll say no. So before I ask him, I’m trying to do something nice for him. Think of it kind of like a trade. The problem is he won’t tell me what he wants.”

Olive scrunches up her nose when she laughs. “I can imagine.”

“Maybe you can help,” I say. She lives with him, after all. She must know something that could help me.

“How?”

“Tell me a little bit about him. Maybe it’ll give me some ideas.”

“Well, I don’t know him very well to be honest. We’re second cousins, and we didn’t ever do things together growing up. He also doesn’t do or say much, which doesn’t help. His grandma is in a nursing home, though. She has dementia. He used to live with her before he came here. That’s pretty much all I know.”

I didn’t expect him to have such a rough background. His anger starts to make a little more sense. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have my grandparents go through that. “What about his parents?”

Olive looks at her feet. “His mom died when he was little.”

My heart sinks. I love my mother so I can only imagine how hard it was for him to grow up without one. “What about his dad?”

She shrugs. “That’s kind of the family mystery. No one knows who his dad is.”

Despite the heaviness of this new information, the wheels in my brain start turning. If I were him, I would’ve done everything possible to solve that mystery. “Has he ever tried to find his dad?”

“Like I said, we don’t talk much.”

There’s a thud a second before the door across from us flies open, and Daniel runs out. His face is bright red, and he grabs my wrist, pulling me away.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

DANIEL

“Hey!” she says, trying to get out of my grip.

How in the world did I attract such an annoying and clingy girl? When have I ever done anything to encourage her to talk to me, let alone follow me home? This isn’t normal. I’m good at getting people to leave me alone. I’m scary and rough. I don’t even smile.

Is it because I didn’t do that annoying assignment from science class? Would she really go this far to make sure she got a good grade? Wouldn’t it be easier for her to do the assignment herself rather than go to all this effort to make me do it? Nothing makes sense.

“We were talking,” Olive says.

“And now you’re done,” I reply.

“Let go,” Margo says. She tries to shake me off, but my grip is too strong. She’s going outside whether she wants to or not.

As soon as we make it through the door, I shut it. I face her full-on, tugging on my hair. “I swear every time I turn around, you’re there.” I gesture wildly into the air. “Why are you doing this to me? Is it because of the ridiculous homework I tore up? Because if it is, then that’s low. I’ve had it up to here with you”—I motion to my neck—“and the last thing I need is to have you following me around like a pathetic, lost dog!”

Her eye twitches. “I’m doing this because I need something from you!” 

“What? Tell me why you’re doing this!” I’ll give her whatever she wants at this point if she agrees to leave me alone.

She crosses her arms. “I need something from you, and I know you won’t do it unless I do something for you first.” She gestures toward me. “There. Happy now?” 

I sigh, rolling my eyes. “Tell me what it is. I’ll just get it over with now so I won’t be stuck with you any longer.”

She shakes her head. “I already told you, I need you to tell me what you want first.”

“I don’t want anything other than for you to leave me alone!” I yell.

Her feet are anchored, and she stands a little taller as if she’s trying to challenge me. “I’ll find your father.”

My heart stops . . . for a half second, I swear. It takes me a moment to process her words—her overly ambitious promise. It’s impossible. The only person who knew him is dead. There are no clues. He’s nothing but a stranger. I wouldn’t know him from Adam.

“You”—I point to her petite oddball self—“are going to find my father?”

She nods, holding her chin up high. “I already told you, I’m good at finding things. It’s my talent. Ask anyone at school. I’m not lying.” She tries to make herself seem taller by straightening her back, but she’s still the same person. She isn’t fooling anyone.

“You know what? Fine. You do that. Go find my long-lost father.” If she insists on doing something for me, I’m going to give her an impossible task. Something she’ll never be able to accomplish. That’ll keep her busy. Keep her away.

Her mouth falls open. “R-really? Just like that?”

“Yeah.” I lean in, casting a shadow over her. “But don’t you dare show your face again until you find him.” I won’t have to see her for a very long time if she agrees to this. It’ll practically guarantee a Margo-free future.

She staggers back. “We go to the same school. We have three classes together.”

“Not my problem.” I cross my arms, proud of my plan. My only regret is not coming up with it sooner. “Deal?”

Part of me expects her to turn around and leave, but instead she thrusts her hand out. “Deal.”

I scowl at her hand.

“Come on. Make it official,” she says. She shakes her hand in front of me as if doing that would make it more appealing.

“No.”

She tilts her head, pinching her lips together in an irritated frown. “The second you shake my hand, I’ll leave.”

I’m so done with her. I glance around, making sure no one is here to witness this horrific scene, then I set my hand in hers. My hand buzzes from touching hers. It’s a strange feeling after going so long avoiding other people. I shake her hand as fast as humanly possible before pulling back. “There. Now leave.”

“Gladly,” she says with a smile that takes up her entire face.

Without skipping a beat, I turn and walk away.

I clench my hand as I walk inside, still feeling Margo’s effect.

Once inside, I lean against the hallway wall and close my eyes. My breathing is still heavy, and my heart is pounding in my ears.

Olive joins me with a curious grin. “So what was that about? Margo’s your friend?”

“Shut up.”

“That handshake, though . . .”

A chill runs down my back, but I shake it off. “Don’t you have anything better to do? Like playing with dolls?”

She glares at me and shakes her head. “You’re so funny.” In her hand is a script from her drama class. “Do you want to help me practice the lines for my audition?”

“Can’t,” I say. “I’m busy.”

She crosses her arms. “With what?”

“Breathing.” I push past her and walk back toward my room.

“Dad’s in there now. He’s on the phone with a client,” Olive calls after me.

Of course he is. It’s not like it’s actually my room. Nothing here is mine. I don’t belong.

I make my way out to the backyard and sit on the steps of the porch. I can’t stop my curiosity. What could she possibly want badly enough for her to go through all the trouble of finding my dad?

More importantly, what happens if she somehow finds him?

The next morning I go about my usual routine of ignoring breakfast despite Laura standing outside my door with a honey-drizzled waffle.

“You need to visit your grandma today,” she says. I barely hear her as I walk out the door.

I know Laura wants to believe my grandma and I have a good relationship, but that’s not true. One time when I was little, I tripped on purpose because I thought if I was hurt, maybe she’d wrap me up in a hug. Instead, she helped me stand, took one look at my scuffed knees, and said, “If you aren’t bleeding, you aren’t hurt.”

That’s how she was. I don’t know if she liked anything, to be honest. Our home was bare without pictures. She had no hobbies. The only thing she did all day was clean and remind me to do things I was already doing.

The problem with visiting her is she isn’t like that now. She smiles and laughs. She plays cards and paints. She seems happy, and I can’t help but think it must be because I’m not around.

So why should I visit her?

When I walk into my science class, there is Margo, pineapple earrings and all.

She locks eyes with me and immediately ducks, hiding behind her binder. As I sit, she inches the binder to the middle of the table and stands it up on its side to create a divide between us.

“What are you doing?” I ask, exhausted from my mind racing all morning.

“Not showing you my face, obviously,” she whispers from behind the binder.

I push the binder down and stare at her pink cheeks. “It’s pointless. I can still hear you.”

She covers her face with her hands. “Nice try. I’m not voiding our agreement.”

Somehow this is even worse than seeing her. I’m not about to spend the next hour with her acting this ridiculous. “This class can be a neutral zone.”

“Why?” she says through her hands.

“Because this is more annoying.”

She parts her fingers, one of her eyes peeking through the gap. “Really?”

“Don’t make me regret this,” I say as I set my head down to rest. I close my eyes, ready to sleep while my teacher drones on.

“So, give me a clue,” she says, bringing up her legs to sit crisscross on her chair.

So much for sleeping. “About what?”

She shifts closer, clearly taking this “neutral zone” a little too casually. She must’ve misunderstood my gesture as an invitation to talk to me.

“Your father? You have to know something.”

“Nope.” I close my eyes again.

“Are you sure?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Your grandma must’ve known who he was.”

“She didn’t.”

“Hmph.” She taps her pencil on the table. “This might take longer than I was hoping.”

“I’m counting on forever.”

“Hey,” she says.

“Hush. I’m sleeping.”

Margo quiets down, but only because class starts. If Mrs. Wilkson hadn’t started talking, I’m sure Margo would find a way to fill the silence. Even though I’ve only known her for a short time, I can tell she loves to talk. If I had to guess, silence makes her uncomfortable.

To me, silence is peace.

And Margo is chaos.

After our teacher stops talking, Margo starts right back up. I drown her out the rest of class, not paying attention to her laundry list of reasons why I should do my part of the assignment instead of making her do it all by herself. The thing is, I don’t need to do the assignment. I’ll ace the test without it, and our tests are weighted. I’ll pass the class enough to graduate, so what’s the point? I’m burned out on trying. It’s never gotten me anywhere before. Everyone wants you to believe doing well in school will make your life better, but I know from experience it’s an illusion.

My phone buzzes, bringing me back to reality.

Laura:

Remember, I’m taking you to visit your grandma after you get home from school.

My stomach twists. Just thinking about it makes my head hurt. A migraine is threatening to settle in, pounding at my temples.

“Are you okay?” Margo asks.

“I’m fine.” I stand, leaving the class again for fresh air. I already have detention today, so threatening me for skipping the rest of class holds no weight.

I barrel down the hallway and into the bathroom. Once safely inside, I splash my face with water because it’s the only thing I can do to stop my head from exploding. I stare at my reflection in the mirror; at the unwanted boy staring back.

CHAPTER TWELVE

MARGO

Impossible is not a word in my vocabulary. I refuse to admit failure until every single avenue has been explored and proven wrong. Sure, Daniel doesn’t know anything about his father, but I have a hard time believing his grandmother didn’t. She had to have known something, even if it’s the smallest possible clue. An outfit. A part of town. I’d even take the guy’s hair color as a clue at this point.

Daniel is no help. I know if I ask him to tell me where his grandma lives, he won’t. Thankfully, I have another in—a workaround.

Olive stands at her locker, taking off her sweater and stuffing it into her backpack.

I lean against the locker next to Olive. “Hello.”

“What’s up?” she asks. She seems like a fun person. She’s bright and cheery, and somehow always seems to smell like vanilla.

“Nothing much. I was wondering if you’d tell me where Daniel’s grandmother lives?”

She laughs. “Why do you need to know that? Following him home wasn’t enough?”

I figured she’d understand, but maybe she needs more convincing. “I’m trying to help him. He told me he wants me to find his father.”

Olive raises an eyebrow. “Really? Those words came out of his mouth?”

I nod.

“Then why don’t you ask him where his grandma lives?”

My gaze shifts. “Well . . . he hasn’t been very helpful.”

Her smile gets bigger. “Ah, there’s the Daniel I know. He’s just trying to get rid of you.”

Is it that obvious? “So will you help me or not?”

Her eyes narrow as she sizes me up. “Sure. But you owe me.”

“Name your price, and it’s yours,” I say. Surely, she must know my reputation even if she’s a freshman.

“Even a ticket to a musical?” she asks.

“Which musical?”

“They’re performing The Sound of Music downtown.”

A ticket like that is nothing. Last summer I helped Mallory Micheals track down a stolen bracelet, and her mother works at the theater. “Consider it yours.”

She gasps. “Really? Just like that?”

“Yup,” I say. “Just like that.”

Olive covers her mouth. “No way.”

“So, where does Daniel’s grandma live?” I ask.

She still hasn’t recovered. She slowly moves her hand away from her mouth. “She lives at the Cedar Park Assisted Living Center. You know, the one across town by the waterfall.”

“Perfect!” I clap my hands. “I’ll get you that ticket by the end of the week,” I say, already staggering off.

“You better!” she calls after me.

I give her the A-okay sign and dash away.

I spot Annie and run toward her full steam ahead. “Incoming,” I yell as I wrap my arms around her from behind.

She squeals. “Do you have to do this every time?”

“It’s just love. Enjoy it.” I squeeze her tighter.

“I don’t think you’re going to give me a choice,” she says.

I let her go and fall into step beside her. “Are you going to work today?”

“Yup.”

“Can I tag along? I have some things to do in that part of town today.”

“Again?” she asks, heading out of the main school doors.

“I’ll be quick. I promise, and then we can do something together.”

There’s a suspicious look in her eyes. “Are you going to tell me what this is about yet?”

I shake my head. “You’ll have to be patient.”

Her eyebrow raises. “It better be worth it.” Then, she stops, and her eyes grow. “You aren’t sneaking around with a boy, are you?”

I gasp, linking my arm with hers. “Annie, I’m disappointed in you. You know you’d be the first to know if I liked someone.”

“True.” Her expression eases. “Just make sure you stay out of trouble. Mama will kill me if something happens to you.”

“Don’t worry. I promise you’ll thank me later.”

She continues walking, but it doesn’t stop her from side-eyeing me. “This better not be like the time you force-fed me apple pie because you swore I’d like it if I tried it.”

“No sane person dislikes apple pie.”

“I don’t.”

“I never said you were sane.”

She pinches me. “Do you want a ride or not?”

“Well, now you have to give me a ride. I’m injured.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re a baby.”

I hip check her before running off. “Whoever gets there first picks the music!”

“Get back here, you cheater!” She passes me in no time, speeding up to the car.

I slow down as the bones in my legs ache, and then I clutch my side and breathe in deep.

“Nuh-uh. I know what you’re doing,” she says. “Don’t be a sore loser, and get in the car.”

I straighten my posture and force a smile to hide the pain. She thinks I’m faking, and I don’t want her to know it’s real. “You aren’t going to fall for this?”

“Nope. You lost fair and square.”

“I did.” I keep my pace controlled, not moving too fast while I round the car. I open the door and sit in the passenger seat.

“What book are you reading today?” I ask.

She laughs as she turns on the car. “You just don’t want me to pick the music.”

“We’ve listened to the same Broken Sage song, on repeat, the entire drive here this morning.”

“Because it’s brand new, and it’s perfect.”

“Can’t we listen to a different song this time?”

She sighs, turning on another Broken Sage song. “There, happy?”

I nod. It’s acceptable. “So, what’s the book?”

“I’m branching out.”

“What does that mean?”

She blushes, which I’ve unfortunately started to notice as a pattern whenever she thinks about a certain someone.

“Jules Verne. You’re reading one of his books, aren’t you?”

She looks in the back window as she starts to pull out of the parking spot. “Mm-hmm. I figured it would give us something to talk about if I ever see him in the library again.”

I rest my head back on the seat and internally groan.

“You don’t understand,” she says. “I wish there was someone you liked because then you’d get this.”

“Get what? Delusion?”

“Having a crush is exciting. You spend the whole day hoping you’ll see them, and your stomach turns to butterflies when they look at you. Your heart races. Your breath catches.”

“That sounds exhausting.” I’ve had little crushes before, silly ones. Ones that didn’t mean anything and only lasted a few days, but I don’t want to like anyone now. And I definitely don’t want anyone to like me that way. It would be too painful. I’d never let it happen.

“I figured you’d be into boys long before me,” she says.

“Hey.”

“Think about it. You’re outgoing, and everyone likes you.” She looks between me and the road.

“So?”

“So those are the kind of girls who get boyfriends first.”

I laugh. “Well, you’re a closeted romantic.”

“This isn’t about me.”

“Okay. If you say so,” I reply, closing my eyes.

“Why are you so tired?” There’s a hint of worry in her voice.

I rest my head back on the seat. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

She takes my excuse and moves on, talking about something else, but I drift to sleep before I can comprehend any of it.

My nose tickles, and I open my eyes.

Annie holds the tail of her long braid and taps my face.

I grimace, rubbing my face, and push her away. “What are you doing?”

“Waking you up. I’ve tried everything else. I blasted my music. I shook you. You were out. I even checked to make sure you were still breathing.”

I move as far from her as possible. “I hate being tickled.”

She shrugs. “You left me no choice.”

I stretch my neck, tilting my head from side to side. Then, I rub my eyes.

We’re at the bookstore, which is my cue to walk to the nursing home. It’s only a few blocks from here, so it shouldn’t take too long.

“I only have a short shift today,” Annie says, hopping out of the car. “Be back by six.”

I check my phone. I have three hours. “Perfect. I’ll be back way before then.”

I leave my backpack in the car. I don’t feel like dragging it around with me all afternoon. “Have fun reading.”

She gives me a look. “I’ll be working.”

“Sure you will,” I say. She always gets everything done quickly and then spends the rest of her shift sitting behind the counter, reading.

“Don’t hate it just because you’re jealous,” she says.

“Have fun,” I say with a smile as I walk in the opposite direction.

I pull up the walking directions on my phone. It says it’ll take twenty minutes by foot, which is a little more than I was hoping for, but it would’ve been more awkward if I had her drop me off because I would’ve had to explain why I’m randomly visiting a nursing home. This is definitely the lesser of two evils. Besides, after my nap, my energy is back up.

I could run a mile at this point.

That’s a lie. I couldn’t run a mile, but I can walk for twenty minutes.

Today is nice. The sun is shining. Birds are chirping. If I didn’t know better, I’d say this was a set of a musical where people were waiting to jump into song. That’s the vibe.

In the distance I notice a bright green Ferris wheel. I love it when the fair comes to town. It comes every fall and lasts for about two weeks. I used to go all the time as a kid, but we haven’t gone in the last few years. Happy memories filled with cotton candy and music fill my mind, making time fly by.

It also doesn’t take me a full twenty minutes to get to the nursing home. Apparently, I walk faster than expected. It only took me eighteen minutes. Two whole minutes to spare.

The building isn’t very big, but it’s clean, and there are lots of beautiful flowers on the outside. The windows are framed with white shutters standing out against the yellow siding, and the front door is painted bright red.

As soon as I walk in, there’s a receptionist’s desk where a woman sits adjusting her glasses. “Hello, dear.”

“Hello,” I say.

She smiles, making the laugh lines around her eyes more apparent. “How can I help you today?”

“I’m here to visit someone, but I’m not sure which room they’re in.”

“What’s their name?” she asks.

I have no idea what her name would be. I should’ve asked Olive. The only name I can go off is Daniel’s. “The last name should be Hansen?”

A small laugh escapes her lips. “Are you asking me?”

“No,” I say nervously. “That’s the name. At least I’m pretty sure it’s right.”

The receptionist looks at her computer and searches for the name. “There’s a Janet Hansen down that hallway, second door on the left.”

“Thank you,” I say.

She has me sign in, and then I head to her room, passing a group of ladies playing cards in the recreation area.

I knock on the door and crack it open slightly. “Hello? Mrs. Hansen?”

“Come in,” she says. Her voice is full and rich. It’s a voice that sounds like it belongs to someone who visits the opera and art galleries in their free time. Although, I doubt Daniel’s grandma did any of that.

I shuffle in and close the door behind me.

Janet is a beautiful person. Her hair is long and gray, pulled to the side in a wispy braid. She’s sitting in a chair facing the window, letting sunbeams glow across her skin.

The room is small, but cute. The walls are mostly bare, with the exception of one big family photo. I don’t see Daniel in it. The picture is older. Janet is in the center with a young girl to her left wearing braces and a man standing behind them both. They all have big, bright smiles.

I wave. “Hello, I’m Margo. I know Daniel.”

Her face lights up with a grin. “How’s he doing?”

Great. Definitely not sleeping through all of his classes and getting into fights. “He’s been staying busy.”

“He’s such a good kid. Never gets into trouble, and he has straight A’s,” she says, smiling.

Are we talking about the same person?

Janet quickly changes topic, reaching for a crossword book on her side table. “While you’re here, maybe you could help me with something. I can’t figure out what this word is.” She opens up the book, bending the cover around to the back. That way she can hold it with one hand. “What has holes, but still holds water? For the life of me I can’t figure it out.”

I walk closer to her and peer over at the other answers she’s found to see if there are any letters I can use as clues. There’s an S, and it’s six letters long.

As someone who prides myself on finding and fixing things, I silently vow to figure out the answer, and I refuse to cheat by looking online. I mull over a bunch of different options in my mind before settling on the most obvious one. “Try sponge.”

She grins. “That must be it. You’ve always been pretty sharp. I wish you’d come visit me more.”

I smile, not fully understanding what she means. I’ve never come by before. She must think I’m someone else. That’s the only explanation.

She shows me the book proudly. “It fits perfectly.” Then her gaze shifts back to me. “When did you cut your hair?” she asks.

My fingers graze my bob. “It’s been this short for a while.”

Her brow furrows. “Yesterday I could’ve sworn it was long—”

“What are you doing?” Daniel stands in the doorway.

“I’m just visiting with your grandma. Last I checked, that’s not a crime,” I say.

His gaze is so strong it makes my skin crawl. I get that he didn’t want me to hang around him all the time, but I’ve never seen him look this upset. His face is turning redder by the second. Even the veins in his neck are popping. Someone should probably tell him it isn’t the most attractive look.

“I told you not to come around here anymore,” his grandma says, crossing her arms.

His eyes stay on me, ignoring her. “You might as well just leave. She doesn’t know anything.”

“Justin! How dare you come into my home and talk like that.”

“Get out,” Daniel says.

I hear him, but my mind is still computing one word: Justin. Who is Justin?

“Do I need to drag you out of here?” Daniel yells.

His grandma makes an attempt to get up. “Don’t talk to my daughter like that!”

Daniel paces the room, tugging at his hair. “I’m not Justin!” Then he points at me. “And she isn’t Ashley!”

A light bulb goes off in my head. It’s so painfully obvious what’s happening, but I need him to stop talking. I can’t have him reminding his grandma who he really is. I need her to believe we’re Ashley and Justin. I jump up and run over to Daniel. I cover his mouth with my hand and start pushing him backwards.

“What are you doing?” he mumbles through my hand.

“Trust me,” I whisper. I turn to look over my shoulder at his grandma. “We’ll just be a second.”

I push him completely out of the room and close the door. I need to talk to him without her hearing my plan. I know how to find his father. This breakthrough is better than I could’ve ever imagined. I just need Daniel to play along.

Daniel groans. “You are completely insufferable.”

I don’t care what he thinks about me. It’s not important.

“Justin,” I say. “She called you Justin.”

He rolls his eyes and proceeds to argue about how he thinks this vital piece of information is irrelevant.

“Do you know what this means?” I ask.

There’s no spark in his eyes. He’s void of joy—tired. “Enlighten me.”

“She called me Ashley. If that’s your mom’s name, that means maybe Justin is your father. It’s a clue.”

“It could be anyone,” he says.

“But it could be him. Your dad.”

He shakes his head. “No. She told me she never knew him.”

“Maybe she lied.”

“No!” he yells, startling himself. “She wouldn’t lie about something like that.”

“So you’re telling me she’s never lied to you?”

He doesn’t reply.

“Fine. Maybe you’re right,” I say, “but there’s an easy way to check.”

The slightest grain of curiosity taints his frustration. “What do you mean?”

“She thinks I’m Ashley. Let me go back in there and pretend to be your mom,” I say.

His mouth twitches while he thinks. His eyes darken, attempting once again to overshadow any hope he had. “You’re going to be wrong.”

I’m not wrong. I can feel it. “There’s only one way to find out.”

“Fine.”

I blink, unprepared for him to cave so easily. I figured I’d need to state my case with an entire presentation before he’d change his mind. “Really?”

“I just want to get this over with so you’ll leave. I’ll give you two minutes, but once we confirm you’re wrong, I want you out of here. No negotiations.”

I can work with that. A lot can happen in two minutes, and I won’t waste a second. “Okay, you stay here.”

“What? Why?”

I reach for the doorknob. “I told you I have a plan. Don’t worry, I’ll leave the door cracked open so you can hear what we say.” I hold my finger to my lips and head back in, careful not to close the door all the way.

He follows me with a hardened stare, but he doesn’t change his mind. He lets me go back into the room alone.

“Sorry about that. I told Justin to leave,” I say, hoping she’ll take the bait. I won’t lie, it feels a little bit wrong to be purposefully tricking a sweet old woman into telling me her secrets, but I’m desperate.

I hold my breath, watching her every move.

She grimaces. “Justin? Why is he here? I thought you broke up.”

No, no way that worked. It’s like I broke into a bank vault.

I come closer, sitting across from her on the corner of her bed. “I think he misses you.”

She adjusts the blanket that’s draped across her shoulders. “I doubt that. He doesn’t like me very much.”

“Oh, sure he does,” I say.

She raises an eyebrow. “Not after that time I yelled at him. He’s scared of me, and he should be.”

I hold up my fingers and pinch them together. “Okay, he might be a little scared.”

She crosses her arms. “We agreed you wouldn’t tell him. Don’t tell me you’re going to break your promise.”

“Tell him what?”

Her jaw lowers as if I’ve forgotten something life changing. Something so drastic no person in their right mind would forget. She looks at the door and then back at me. She leans in and whispers, “About the baby.” Her eyes land on my stomach.

I cover it with my arms. Baby?

If she thinks I’m Ashley then the baby must be . . . Daniel.

I just need to push a little more. I need to be one hundred percent sure I’m not reading into this. I need to hear the confirmation from her lips.

“Why shouldn’t I tell him? It’s his baby,” I whisper back. My skin is on pins and needles. Goosebumps ripple up my arms in anticipation. This is it. This is the moment that’ll make or break my case.

“I don’t care if he’s the father. He’s no good for you. You’ve been clean ever since you came home. Think of the baby. He deserves better than a deadbeat father.”

There’s a knock at the door. At first I expect to see Daniel walk in, but a caregiver walks in instead. “Hello, Janet, it’s time to get ready for dinner.”

I have so many questions swimming around in my head. I want to know more. I want to know more about what happened, but I know this isn’t the time. If anything, it’ll rile her up and ruin her day. I don’t want to do that. It wouldn’t be fair to her.

“Have you met my daughter?” Janet says, proudly smiling at me.

The caregiver grins at me even though she knows I’m not this woman’s daughter. “I don’t believe I have.”

“Hi,” I say.

“This is Ashley.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” the caregiver says.

I nod, standing. “I’ll come by another time.”

My heart is bursting. I’m elated with this clue. I have a name. It might only be a first name, but that’s something I can work with.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

DANIEL

I stagger away from the door. It’s not true. It can’t be. Grandma told me she never knew my father. I had asked more than once growing up. Every single time she’d say my mom never told her who he was. She told me he didn’t want the baby, but that was a lie. He didn’t even know I existed.

My chest constricts, squeezing tighter and tighter to the point where I can’t breathe. I gasp for air, but the air doesn’t make it to my lungs. I tug on the collar of my shirt, but nothing helps. Hot tears prick at the corners of my eyes, and I run.

I have to get out of here. This place is closing in on me, and I need fresh air.

Once outside I round the side of the building and lean against the brick wall. I pant and my mouth dries, leaving my lips parched. I rub my eyes with the back of my sleeves. This shouldn’t bother me. I’m not someone who lets people hurt them. Yet, it stings, like a knife turning in my chest. I’ve never had a great relationship with Grandma, but I never thought she’d lie to me about something this important. I’ve been upset at my parents for as long as I remember. I hated that my dad didn’t want me, but maybe he would if he knew about me. Is that possible?

I sink to the ground and pull my knees in, hiding in the shadow of the building. My breathing regulates, other than the occasional hitch, but my head is still spinning. I tug on my hair, trying to distract myself from the pain.

“Daniel?” It’s Margo. Of course it is. She’s like a parasite I can’t get rid of.

“What do you want now?” I mumble. “Did you come here to gloat?”

She sits crisscrossed on the ground next to me. I expect her to rub her victory in my face, but instead she says, “Are you okay?”

I half laugh. “I just found out my grandma’s been lying to me for the past seventeen years, so yes, I’m great.”

Margo doesn’t say anything for a moment, which is shocking considering this is the first time she’s ever been quiet around me. Up until this point I genuinely didn’t think it was possible to make her speechless.

She leans back and watches the traffic move by. Then after a few minutes she says, “Maybe she lied because she loves you. Sometimes people lie to protect the people they care about.”

“That doesn’t make it okay.” Besides, she doesn’t know what our relationship was like. Grandma never smiled when she saw me. She never hung my artwork up on the fridge as a kid. She never told me she was proud of me.

“Maybe not, but it could be why she did it. You never knew your father. Maybe she had a reason not to tell you about him.”

“You don’t get it,” I say, staring off. “If she lied to me about this, how many other things has she lied to me about?” I want to agree with her, but the wound is too fresh. I can’t find a silver lining in any of this. “My entire life I grew up thinking my parents didn’t want me because that’s what she told me. But if what she just said is true, my mom didn’t tell my dad about me. What would’ve happened if she did?” My voice trails off to the point where it’s barely above a whisper. “Maybe he would’ve wanted me.”

“I know you didn’t believe me when I told you I could find him, but I promise you I can.” She’s serious, looking straight at me. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

For the first time, I do believe her. She may be overbearing at times and a little wild, but I trust she’ll keep her word. There’s a new feeling building up in the pit of my stomach: fear. What if we do find him? What then? Will he want me in his life after missing the first seventeen years? Maybe he won’t, but I know if I don’t find out, I’ll regret it. I’ll always wonder about it in the back of my head. He might be the family I’ve been longing for. Maybe we’d laugh and tell stories. Maybe he’d toss a football back and forth with me like they do in the movies with happy families. Maybe I wouldn’t be lost anymore. What if finding him is what helps me find myself?

“Yes,” I say, barely above a whisper, “I want you to find him.”

“Then it’s as good as done.”

I nod, still partially zoned out. I should move, but I have no energy. Margo doesn’t appear to be leaving anytime soon either. “Aren’t you going to leave?”

She laughs. “Tired of my face again?”

There’s a tinge of guilt running through me for yelling at her the other day. “You have to admit it’s hard on the eyes.”

Her jaw drops, and she turns to me. I expect to see anger, but there isn’t an ounce. “Daniel I-don’t-know-your-middle-name Hansen, did you just make another joke?”

“Is that really so hard to believe?” I ask.

Her head tilts as she looks up at the clouds. “I’ll have you know my face isn’t hard on the eyes. You should be honored to see it at all.”

A small laugh escapes me. I stare up at the clouds along with her, watching them change shape little by little. I wait for her to talk, to tell me what animals she sees, but she doesn’t.

“Say something,” I say.

“Why?” she asks, squinting at the sky.

The quiet isn’t right with Margo. Margo is loud. She’s a bold font you can’t help but notice. At first I didn’t think I liked that, but now the silence is more distracting. “Because I’m getting used to hearing your voice.”

I almost can’t believe I said that. I study her face, hoping I didn’t make this awkward.

“What should I talk about?” she asks, holding her hands up to her face as if she’s taking a picture of the clouds.

“Why don’t you tell me what you want from me?”

Her nose scrunches up, and she twists her mouth. “I think we should wait until I find your father first.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t think you’ll like it very much.”

That only makes me more curious. What could possibly be so bad she can’t tell me until later? “Who cares? You might as well give me time to prepare.”

She smiles. “I’ll wait.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“It’s complicated,” she says.

“That’s never stopped you before.”

Her head turns, and she looks at me. She bites her lip as she thinks it over. “You swear you won’t back out after I tell you?” I can already tell by the look in her eyes she doesn’t trust me.

“I doubt you’ll give me a choice,” I say. This girl is the type of person who doesn’t know how to take no for an answer.

“True.” She nods, and I can see the wheels turning in her head. She may not trust me, but she knows I’m right. “I told you before that I’m known for getting things done, and there’s something I need to get done, but I can’t do it without you.”

“Vague much?”

Her eyes narrow. “I’ve never heard you talk this much before. I don’t know how I feel about it.”

I huff. “Don’t try to change the subject.”

She sighs, averting her gaze. “It’s silly. You won’t like it.”

“Tell me.”

Her words are so quiet I can barely make out, “There may or may not be a girl that likes you, and I need you to talk to her. Maybe take her on a date.”

“No way.” She can’t be serious? I don’t do anything or talk to anyone at school. Most people stay out of my way. She has to be misinformed. It’s almost comical how absurd it is.

“Hey, you said you wouldn’t back out.” Her face morphs into a stern glare, and she shakes her finger at me.

“That’s it?” It sounds so simple. “You’re going through all of this trouble just so I’ll hang out with some girl?”

Her chin twitches up, and she raises an eyebrow. “You aren’t mortified?”

“Who is it?”

She shakes her head. “I can’t tell you yet.”

This girl and all her games. It’s exhausting. “Why not?”

“Because it’s not time. I have a plan,” she says, crossing her arms. “Everything has to be perfect.”

I groan. “I’m not about to let you set me up with someone. I’m not interested in dating right now. Also, I’m not buying flowers or doing anything romantic. I’m not like that, and I’m not going to change just because you’re going to find my father.”

“That’s fine. I don’t want you to act any different. Just be yourself because I want the real you to be obvious.”

I wish I could read her—understand what’s behind her actions. I don’t like not knowing what she’s thinking. I don’t like being her pawn. But to be fair, she’s right. If she had told me earlier, I would’ve laughed in her face and told her to get lost.

I scour my memories of school, trying to pick out a girl that could possibly want to talk to me, but I come up blank. The only girl I think of spending more than a couple of seconds with is Margo. A gnawing thought creeps into my mind. Could it be Margo? I didn’t realize she existed until she ran out of the school in orange overalls. It doesn’t make any sense. But it would explain why she won’t tell me who it is.

Her eyes close as she rests her head on the wall. A faint smile tugs at her lips. Even while she’s sitting with me on the ground outside in the chilly air, she’s happy. I might not understand why, but now I’m convinced there’s only one possible answer to this riddle: Margo Blakely likes me.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

MARGO

My eyes are closed as I rest my head on the wall behind me. I’m happy my plan is falling into place. I’m good at orchestrating things to go my way, but I have to admit, this feels a little too easy.

I open my eyes.

He’s staring at me, eyes squinting slightly, but is quick to jerk his gaze away. He shifts his weight and stands. “I have to go,” he says.

Did I do something to make him uncomfortable? Why does he want to leave all of a sudden?

“Are you okay?” I ask, standing too.

He brushes off the back of his pants. “Yeah, but Laura is waiting for me.”

I check the time on my phone. I still need to run to the store and make it back to the bookshop to meet Annie by six. “I should probably get going too.”

He rocks on his heels, awkward for a moment, not knowing where to look. “Thanks,” he finally mumbles before walking away. He disappears around the side of the building, not waiting to hear my goodbye.

I walk down the street to one of my favorite coffee shops. It’s a little touristy, with all the gifts that line the walls, but I like it. There are mugs and journals. Calendars and soap bars. It makes it easy to find something special to buy. Something that’ll convince Annie I came downtown for a reason. I pick out a pastel pink notebook with a gold cloth strap that loops around the front, keeping it closed. I need a new notebook. My current one is starting to fall apart. The edges are tattered, and it’s survived more than one coffee spill. This one even has a checklist layout on the first page. It couldn’t be more perfect.

I purchase it along with two hot cocoas to go. Mine is cinnamon brown sugar, and Annie’s is caramel. I’d get coffee, but Mama wouldn’t like us drinking caffeine so late in the day. She already has enough to worry about.

As I walk back, my phone buzzes. Somehow managing to juggle both drinks with one arm, I pull it out. An email notification pops on the screen, and a smile stretches across my face. Annie is going to freak out when she sees what I got confirmation for.

Butterflies buzz in my stomach, and I start walking faster.

When I get to the bookshop, Annie is sitting behind the counter at the front of the store. She’s leaning back in her chair with her book cracked open in her lap.

“I brought you a present,” I say, setting the cocoa on the counter.

She smiles. “I was just thinking about getting a drink. Caramel?”

I nod. “Of course.”

She taps her head. “And some people don’t believe in twin telepathy.” She takes a sip and closes her eyes with a sigh. “Just how I like it.”

“Have you been busy?” I ask. Other than one customer way in the back, the place is empty.

She shakes her head. “Nope. I finished dusting, and then I spent about an hour going through the donations.”

“Any good ones?” I lean on the counter.

She points to a pile of books behind her. “Most of the ones I went through were salvageable . . . with a little love. There were only a couple that were past rescuing.”

This is the perfect job for her. I’ve seen her fix countless busted book spines, even ones that I thought were hopeless. But she’s patient and hates to throw anything away.

“So what did you do?” she asks.

I tap my head, copying her recent movement. “Shouldn’t you know?”

She deadpans, “The twin telepathy isn’t telepathing.”

“What a shame. You should get that fixed.”

She rolls her eyes. “You should answer my question.”

I set my notebook down on the counter. “Isn’t it gorgeous?”

She raises an eyebrow. “It took you two hours to pick out a notebook?”

I gently tap the notebook. “Hey, you can’t rush something like this. I’m going to be using this for the foreseeable future. I had to spend time making sure it was the one.”

“You make it sound like you’re getting married to it.”

“Annie . . .”

“Margo.”

“You’re right. That would be an abnormally long time to spend picking out a notebook.”

“Obviously, Sherlock.”

I open up the email, but before I show her, I say, “You’re going to want to sit for this.”

“I am sitting.”

“You’ll want to continue sitting,” I tease.

“That was the plan. Now, tell me. What did you do?”

I set the phone down on the counter and spin it toward her. Her eyes bug out, and her book falls to the ground as she lunges for the phone.

“Oh my word!” She zooms in, enlarging the font. Then she looks at me. “You swear this isn’t a joke?”

I give her a look. “I would never joke about something so serious.”

She squeals and kicks her feet, hugging the phone to her chest. “I can’t believe I’m going to see Broken Sage!” She jumps up, the palm of her hand smacking the table. “How did you get these tickets?”

I have to admit it was hard. I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to make the trade, which is why I didn’t breathe a word of this to Annie until I was sure. If I told her about the concert and then backed out, she would’ve been devastated. “Look at the tickets again.”

She looks at the tickets again. “It’s only a month away. I have so much to plan. What am I going to wear? We have to make a sign to hold up. I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“Not that.” I take the phone back and point to a very specific line on the tickets. “This.”

This time she buckles at the knees, almost falling over. “You didn’t.”

I don’t think my smile could grow any more. “Yes. They’re VIP tickets. You get to meet the band.”

She plops back down on the chair. “This is it. This is where I meet my future husband.”

I laugh. “What about Daniel?”

“Who’s that?” she asks, laughing.

At this moment, I’ve never wished more that I could set my sister up with a famous singer if it really meant she’d move on from Daniel, but even I have to acknowledge my limitations at some point. Setting her up with a member of her favorite boy band isn’t going to happen, unfortunately.

I wish it was that easy.

She runs around the counter and pulls me into a hug. “I can’t believe you did this. I’ll owe you forever.”

“What’s all the excitement?” Mr. Bonetti says as he comes out of the back room. He’s an older man in his sixties who always wears a bowtie.

“Margo bought me a concert ticket to the Broken Sage.”

“Who’s that?” he asks.

I swear Annie almost faints. “Only the greatest band to walk the face of the earth.”

He laughs. “So what day do you need off?”

Annie rattles off the date so fast she has to repeat herself multiple times before saying it clearly.

“Okay, Annie. I’ll make sure you get that night off,” he says.

“Thank you.” I can tell she’s using all her strength to hold back another squeal. It’s shocking because this is one hundred percent out of character, a pretty good sign I hit the jackpot with this surprise.

“You can clock out now. I can handle the rest of the evening,” he says.

She nods and collects her things.

The entire way home she blasts the new Broken Sage album and sings along. “You only have one month to learn all the words.”

Even though they aren’t my favorite band, I’ll make sure I learn every single word if she wants me to. I want to be able to scream it into the crowd right by her side.

I smile the entire way back. Colorful lights dance into the sky from the fairgrounds as we pass it. I watch the lights change on the Ferris wheel, the colors pulsing into the night sky. “Maybe we should go to the fair this year?”

Annie shrugs. “Don’t you think we’re a little too old for cotton candy and petting zoos?”

I don’t really need to go. These three months are about doing what everybody else wants and needs. It’s hard to convince Annie to go places that are loud and crowded—unless it’s a Broken Sage concert, of course. So if Annie doesn’t want to go, then I don’t want to. It wouldn’t be fun to go alone. “Maybe.”

“Besides, it’ll be back next year,” she says.

“Yeah,” I agree softly. I watch the lights move farther and farther away in the mirror.

Annie quickly goes back to the topic of Broken Sage, and I don’t blame her. That’s what I want. I want to hear how excited she is about it. If she’s happy, I’m happy.

She talks about it all through dinner and even as we get ready for bed. She finally stops around eleven but only because she passes out.

My head pounds, but I swing my feet out of the covers and walk across the room to wake up Annie. I rub my eyes, but when I open them, her bed is empty.

She never gets up before me.

“Hey,” she says, walking back into the room.

“What are you doing up already?” I ask.

She’s fully dressed and ready. She’s wearing layered T-shirts and green straight-legged pants. She sits down on the corner of her bed. “How am I supposed to sleep when all I can think about is going to see Broken Sage?” Her smile disappears the longer she stares at me. “Are you okay? You don’t look so good.”

“It’s nothing. I just woke up with a headache.” Not to mention the piercing pain in my chest and the ringing in my ears.

“Maybe you should stay home.”

I hate staying home. I’m supposed to be acting like everything’s normal, and staying home sleeping would mean wasting a whole day. “I’m okay, I’ll take something, and it’ll go away soon. I don’t want you to be alone.”

“I know we shared a womb and all, but we don’t have to be together all the time.”

“You sure you don’t mind? Who are you going to eat lunch with?”

“You don’t have to worry about me. I’m not a baby. Now, go back to bed. Missing one day is not the end of the world. Besides, Mama’s been acting down lately and doting on you is one of her favorite hobbies.”

She’s not wrong. And Mama did seem like she needed time with me yesterday. Maybe staying home one day couldn’t hurt, and it’s Friday, so I’ll have all weekend with Annie to make up for ditching her at school.

Annie stands up and steers me back to my pillow. “I’ll go talk to Mama, so lie down and rest.”

I crawl into bed and drift back to sleep before Annie is out the door.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

DANIEL

It’s strange. I’ve never thought seeing Margo’s empty seat next to me would bother me, but I don’t like it. I wonder what she’s doing. I wonder if she’s away working on the plan she boasts about. Or maybe she’s off finding something for somebody else.

I’ve never paid so much attention to where she sat in all three of our classes together, but now I can’t seem to look away. At first I hoped her absence was a fluke, that she’d show up at some point.

I can’t shake the curiosity building up in my mind. Does she really like me? Or did I make that up? Did I read into things too much? I want to know. And if it’s true, I have to know why. I came to school with the sole intention of interrogating her, and the fact that she isn’t here really throws a wrench in my day. I couldn’t sleep last night, which in itself isn’t abnormal, but now I’m also wide awake in class staring at her chair. How am I supposed to wait until Monday to see her again? How could she do this to me? She’s the reason I can’t think about anything else. She had the audacity to drop bombs on me yesterday and then disappear.

This simply won’t do.

I spend the rest of class racking my brain on what to do. My head buzzes, my feet tap, and my stomach turns. It isn’t like I want to see her necessarily, but I want to know if I’m right. As I walk to the cafeteria for lunch, I spot my answer. I had almost forgotten about the girl who’s almost a carbon copy of her, but with longer hair and muted clothes.

There’s also something about the way she walks. It’s not like Margo. It’s timid, methodical, as if she’s trying to choose the quickest way to avoid others. Margo wouldn’t do that. She’d stand tall and proud, not afraid of what others think of her. She isn’t scared to be herself even if she isn’t following what’s popular. She wears her absurd earrings and embroidered jeans with such confidence I almost believe they’re in style.

I quicken my pace, following Annie into the cafeteria. She sits down at a table toward the back and before she opens her lunch box, she sets a book down in front of her. She flips through it until she lands on the page with the bookmark and pulls it out.

How do I talk to her? What should I say? I clearly didn’t think this through.

I step back, regretting my decision, when Annie looks up from her book. “Can I help you?”

My mouth opens, but I’m at a loss for words. I’m literally hovering over her table so it’s not like I can pretend I wasn’t about to talk to her. Anyone with more than two brain cells can tell that’s what I’m here to do. “Annie, right?”

She gingerly puts her bookmark back in the book and closes it with a nod. I notice the faintest pink hue covering her cheeks. I’ve embarrassed her.

“Where’s Margo today?” I don’t mean for it to come out so blunt, but I’m not good at talking to other people. Besides, the sooner she answers my question, the sooner I can leave.

“Margo?” She stirs in her chair. “Yeah, she’s not feeling well today.”

How come that never crossed my mind? I assumed she was on some quest or adventure, ignoring me. “Oh.” That’s all that comes out of my stunned brain. I don’t know what to do with that information. Is she going to be sick long? Will I have to wait longer than Monday to see her?

“Did you need to talk to her?” Annie asks.

“Yes, I . . .” It’s not like I can come out and say what’s been on my mind. I don’t want to tell another person about my dad. That’s too personal. And I can’t tell her I think Margo likes me. That feels awkward. “She’s my science partner. I have a question for her.”

That’s a reasonable excuse, right?

A little smile pulls at her mouth. “That makes sense.” Annie fidgets, tapping her hands on the table, then grabs her phone. “Did you want her number?”

Do I want Margo Blakely’s number? Do I really want to give her another way to bombard me? Not necessarily, but it’s the only way. “Sure.” I pat my pockets, looking for my phone, but I can’t find it. I left it in my locker. “I don’t have my phone. Could you text it to me?”

Her smile grows, and she hands me her phone. “No problem.” I don’t know why she’s so excited to give me Margo’s number. Does she know something? Has Margo told Annie she likes me?

I take Annie’s phone, but my thumbs hover over the numbers. I can still back out if I want to, but I remind myself I won’t relax until I talk to her again. I punch in my number and hand the phone back. “Thanks.”

Her eyes falter when I look at her. She’s so shy she can’t even make eye contact.

“I’ll send it right away,” she says.

I acknowledge her with a brief nod and a half-hearted smile. I wave slightly and start to walk away. There’s no need to keep making her nervous. I have what I need.

Instead of sitting down to eat, I head back to my locker for my phone. I pull it out of my jacket pocket and click on the message from Annie. I don’t take the time to save her number because I doubt I’ll need it again. But should I save Margo’s? She is looking for my father after all, so the chance of me needing to talk to her again is higher. Then again, if I save Margo’s number, that’s almost like accepting her into my life. That doesn’t make sense, because once she finds my father, I told her I didn’t want to see her ever again.

I take a breath and save it for some reason, but it’s okay because I can always delete it or block her later.

I stare at the keyboard, and my mind goes blank. I spent all morning thinking about what to say to her, and now I’m suddenly void of the entire English language. How are you? No. I don’t want her to think I care that much. Did you find him yet? No. Obviously, she hasn’t found him that fast, and I’m sure she would’ve found a way to tell me if she did. Hey? No. Without context that feels creepy.

Are you slacking?

I bite my lip. That’s bad too, but it’s too late. It’s already sent.

A minute goes by and my message is left on delivered, not read. I don’t know why I expected her to reply right away, but I did. She seems like the type of person that would immediately respond with long, drawn-out paragraphs.

My brow furrows, and I sigh. Did she see the notification and swipe it away, thinking it was weird? Is that why she isn’t replying?

My eyes wide grow with horror when I realize I never told her who I was. She doesn’t have my number, so how’s she supposed to know I’m the one texting her? For all she knows, that message could be from anyone.

It’s Daniel.

Now, she’ll reply. I know she will. Why wouldn’t she? She’s been spending every possible second she could with me the last week. She should be over the moon about me reaching out. Shouldn’t she?

The minutes tick by, and nothing. Was I wrong? Maybe she doesn’t like me. Maybe I did jump to conclusions. She would have replied by now if she did.

I’m on edge for the rest of the school day. I never ate lunch. I can’t sleep through any of the classes. All I do is stare at my phone, hidden below the desk and out of view of anyone else. Or so I thought.

“Mr. Hansen.” My history teacher stands with her hand extended toward me. “Your phone please.”

Heat rises on my neck. “I wasn’t on it.”

She raises her brow. “I wasn’t born yesterday. I realize you all aren’t staring at your pants. Hand it over.”

I set it in her palm, and despite my longing look, she takes it for the rest of class, setting it inside one of the drawers in her desk. The class drags on, making it seem like hours before the bell finally sounds. Once it does, I walk up to her desk.

She laughs, pulling the phone out of the drawer. “Maybe I should take this more often. I’ve never seen you sit upright in class that long.” She hands it back. “I still don’t understand how you pass every test.”

“Just because I don’t look like I’m listening doesn’t mean I’m not,” I say, taking it back.

“Well, it was refreshing to see you look like you’re listening,” she says.

I won’t take the hint. When Monday rolls around, I’ll be back to ignoring her again.

I step into the hallway, hardly paying attention to the students around me. My eyes are glued to my screen. My gut twists.

No reply.

I don’t get it. This is Margo, the girl who followed me home just so I’d talk to her. So why won’t she talk to me now? Did I do something wrong yesterday? Was she mad at me for leaving so suddenly?

All this anxiety is making my head hurt.

Olive steps next to me and tugs on my arm to see the phone. “Oh, you got it bad. Is that Margo’s number?”

I turn off the phone and slip it into my pocket. “You saw wrong.”

She laughs. “No, I definitely did not. I thought you said she was annoying. Why are you texting her?”

I shrug.

“Do you like her?” she asks.

“No.”

“Then why did you text her?”

“Does it matter?”

I make my way outside, but Olive tugs my arm. “My mom is picking us up.”

“I can take the bus.”

“Come on, she’s already here.”

I sigh and turn to follow her. I don’t say anything on the ride home. Olive does all the talking. She talks about how her drama class is holding auditions for their winter play and how she wants the lead role but she doesn’t know if she’ll get it.

When we walk inside the house, “my room” is occupied, so I set down my things by the front door and walk toward the back porch to hide away, but Olive follows me out.

I sit down on the steps.

Olive runs down, turning to stand in front of me with her script in her hand. “Want to help me practice my lines for the audition?”

“Nope.”

She frowns, following my gaze to my phone. “It’s not like you’re doing anything.”

“No,” I say.

“Come on. It won’t kill you.”

“Go ask your parents.”

She sighs. “Don’t you think I’ve tried? It’s not like you’re the first person I thought of. No offense.”

I lean against the porch post and close my eyes. “Why don’t you go practice with one of your friends?”

“I don’t have any,” she says.

I stare at her. Olive? No friends?

“Most of the kids at school think I’m weird. Even the other drama kids don’t seem to like me very much. They say I’m too loud.”

“Well, they sound like jerks.” Her words tug on my heart. I don’t like knowing that. I don’t want to practice drama lines with her, but someone should. She shouldn’t be alone. She shouldn’t be unwanted.

I’m about to say something when my pocket buzzes.

Margo:

Did I say you could text me?

I smile softly.

“She replied, didn’t she?” Olive asks.

She did. Margo texted me back.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

MARGO

Earlier that morning

I spend most of the morning sleeping. Mama comes in every so often to check my forehead for a fever, but my temperature never rises. My headache is still pounding at my temples, and my face is buried in my pillow with my blankets tucked around me when Mama walks in again.

“Hey, baby,” she says, patting my back. “I need you to sit up. I brought you something to drink.”

I groan. “What is it?”

“It’s peppermint tea.”

“I hate tea.”

Mama pulls me up, holding me to keep me upright despite my lack of help. “You might not like it, but your Aunt Beth had a migraine for five weeks straight and the day she tried peppermint tea, she was cured.”

She always has a reason to justify her words. I stopped trying to prove their authenticity years ago. Even if I were to argue, she’d tell me she’s a nurse and therefore knows what she’s talking about.

I take the cup and sip it. Not because I want to, but because it’ll make her happy.

Her hand covers my forehead for the twentieth time. “Are you sure you don’t want to take the medicine? Maybe we should call your doctor?”

I shake my head. “No. I’ll be okay.” I hate the pain meds they gave me last time. Sure, they took away the pain, but they made me feel gross. I felt like I was disconnected from everything around me. No matter how hard I tried to focus, I couldn’t. I had no energy, and all I wanted to do was sleep. “I’ll get up soon. I promise.”

“If you change your mind, don’t be afraid to tell me,” she says.

I take another sip of my tea before setting it on the nightstand. “I won’t be.” I pat her hand and then lie back down.

Mama watches me closely, sitting on the corner of my bed. I can tell she doesn’t want to leave. That she wants to find a way to help me.

“Will you rub my back?” I ask.

She smiles. “Of course.”

I turn over, and the motion calms me. Before I know it, I drift back to sleep.

When I wake up a couple hours later, my headache has been replaced by an empty stomach. To say I feel better is a stretch considering I never actually feel good now, but it’s somewhat of an improvement.

I raise my arms above my head and yawn, then leave my bed. I wander into the kitchen. Mama is stirring something on the stove, and I wrap my arms around her. “Your tea worked,” I say even though I don’t think it’s what fixed my headache.

“I knew it would,” she says.

“You’re making soup?”

Mama nods as I move to lean against the counter. She opens the oven and pulls out a tray. “And garlic bread.”

“It’s a little early for dinner.”

“This isn’t for dinner. It’s for you since you haven’t eaten all day.”

I pat my belly. “It smells delicious.”

Mama beams, eyes glistening.

I lean on the counter, watching her cook. She’s off in her own little world, humming as she stirs the soup.

“Did you call the hospital yet?”

“Why? Do you think I need to take you there? I can drive you right now if—”

“Not for me. For you. Have you thought about going back to work?”

She freezes, holding her ladle still. “No.”

“You said you’d think about it.”

“I’m still thinking,” she says.

I rack my brain trying to figure out what I can do to encourage her to make the right decision. “Maybe we should go visit. I bet the other nurses you used to work with would be happy to see you.”

“Right now I have a lot on my plate. I’m trying to work on some of the house projects I’ve been putting off.”

This is the first I’ve heard of “house projects” and I doubt she’s working on them. I know most days she cleans to avoid thinking about my future, and on the days when she can’t ignore it, I come home to her eyes puffy from crying. She needs a distraction, a new focus. If only I could help her see that.

Mama hands me a bowl of soup and a slice of garlic bread. “I’ll think about it some more, but right now please go eat this. I need you to keep your energy up.”

She doesn’t have to tell me twice. I gladly take it to the table. I lean in to smell the delicious salty broth.

I take bite after bite until I’m scraping the bowl clean. I stand and take my dishes to the dishwasher. Then, I roll my sleeves up and start washing the dishes Mama used to make the soup.

“Let me do that,” Mama says, running back into the kitchen.

“It’s okay. I got it.” I rinse off one of the measuring cups and set it on the top rack.

Mama shimmies her way in between me and the sink, pushing me away. “Your cousin Jeffrey once went an entire day without eating, then cut his finger while doing the dishes because the lack of food almost caused him to go blind.”

I know that’s not true, and I know she doesn’t believe it either. At least I hope she doesn’t.

I laugh. “Alright. If you really want to do them, knock yourself out.”

Mama nods. “Thank you. Go do something fun.”

Fun? I have no idea what that would be. Annie isn’t home so it’s not like I can watch a movie with her. I don’t feel like leaving the house, and all my friends are at school. Then I remember the notebook I bought. I still haven’t decorated it. I always decorate the inside cover. It’s my way of making it my own.

“Okay, I’ll be in my room,” I tell her. “Thanks for the soup. It was amazing.”

She grins and gently pinches my cheek. “Anything for you, love.”

I race back to my room. Sitting down at my desk, I take the notebook out of my bag and set it in front of me. The gorgeous pink notebook stares back at me. I slip the strap off it and open it up. I doodle with my pen, drawing flowers and fruit until it’s covered halfway. I set my pen to the side and stretch my hand. It’s starting to cramp, which is my cue to take a break, but before I do, I transfer my plan for Mama, Papa, and Annie from my old notebook.

My door flies open and Annie comes rushing in. She slams the door and faceplants on to her bed. She kicks her feet into the air, and then she rolls over, staring up at the ceiling with big eyes.

“So . . . what happened?” I ask.

“Daniel gave me his number.” She covers her mouth, hiding her silent scream.

No, no, no.

Why would he do that? He’s not supposed to be sweeping Annie off her feet. He’s supposed to be scaring her off with his careless personality.

She turns to face me, propping her head on her hand. “See, I told you! I think there actually might be something between us.”

There is no “us” between them, and there won’t be if I get my way. Daniel is not the type of person to go up and ask for a girl’s number. It doesn’t make sense. He’s never even mentioned Annie. I didn’t know he knew she existed. I don’t think he’s aware of the majority of the human race. “Why did he want it?”

Her face is beat red. “He said he needed to talk to you, but when I offered to give it to him, he conveniently had ‘forgotten’ ”—her fingers form air quotes—“his phone in his locker. I think it was just an excuse because then he specifically asked me to text it to him.” She can’t stay still. Her feet are kicking again.

I bite my cheek, becoming more upset by the second. The audacity he had to go up to my sister. He’s ruining my plan. I grimace, my frustration overwhelmed by a newfound curiosity.

“Wait, why did he want my number?” That seems like a very unlikely thing for him to want.

She shrugs. “I don’t know. Did he text you?”

My eyes dart around my room, trying to spot my cell phone. “I don’t know. I haven’t checked.”

She sighs. “Maybe life is like the movies.”

I force a laugh, but it comes out with a ball of nerves. “Maybe.”

She jumps up. “I’m going to go take a shower.”

As soon as she leaves, I snap to action. I dump out my purse. I pull back my bed covers. I open my side table drawer. I scour my room until I see the shiny black screen poking out from the pocket of my jacket. I lunge for it like my life depends on it. He better have a good reason for toying with my sister’s emotions.

I unlock it and pull up my messages. At the top are a few texts from Cameryn and then some from an unknown number. I click it and see two texts.

Are you slacking?

It’s Daniel.

I throw my phone down. That’s it? That’s the text he needed to send me? That’s the text he thought was worth jeopardizing Annie’s entire life over?

I let out a slow breath, hoping it’ll lessen the anger in my chest. Spoiler alert. It did not. Not knowing what else to do, I sit down cross-legged, staring down at my phone. There must be more. There has to be. That can’t possibly be what he wanted to say to me, but he seems like a guy who would send a blunt text stating what he wants or needs. This is odd. This is like he’s teasing me. Or maybe he’s serious, and honestly thinks I’m slacking. No. That can’t be it. He’s spent too much time with me to think that. I’m not a slacker.

Reluctantly, I pick the phone up and start typing.

Did I say you could text me?

No. I most certainly did not.

The text immediately shows as read, and three little dots appear in the bottom corner like he’s been waiting for my reply.

Since when do I need your permission?

My jaw drops. How dare he. Who does he think he is all of a sudden?

What do you want?

Have you found my dad yet?

I saw Daniel less than twenty-four hours ago. Of course not. What did he think was going to happen? That I’d look into every Justin in the state and find him with nothing but a first name? He can’t be serious.

No. I need more clues.

Like what?

Why is he being so talkative? It’s Friday, and I figured he’d be happy to have a break from me. But apparently, he really wants to find his father now. Maybe he’s finally realized I know what I’m doing. When I say I’m going to find his dad, I mean it.

Do you have any of your mom’s things? Pictures, diary, social media accounts?

All the stuff from our old house is in a storage unit.

Perfect. That’s where we need to go next.

Now?

What? No lol.

Then when?

I’m not in the mood to see him. Not after he went up to Annie and got her all excited. The worst part is he didn’t even want to talk to Annie. He just wanted to know if I had any updates on his dad. That would break her, but to be fair, it’s completely in line with his personality. He doesn’t care about anyone else.

I don’t know. I’m a little busy.

The sooner you find my dad, the sooner you get what you want.

I chew on my bottom lip. He’s right. The sooner Annie moves on, the better. Still, I have a lot on my plate this weekend. I’m going shopping Saturday with Cameryn, then I have a family dinner at my grandparents, and I don’t feel like missing breakfast with my family on Sunday morning. The weekends are the only days we are up at the same time. Mama always goes over-the-top to make it special. I can’t miss that.

How does Sunday afternoon sound?

Fine.

Fine? It sounds fine? It better be fine.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

DANIEL

I’m going to get her to admit it today. I don’t like games. She might as well tell me how she feels now because it’s not like my feelings are going to change. I can’t stand her.

As I wait at the entrance gate for her to show up, something behind me rattles against the ground. There’s a cat jumping on top of a metal garbage can. The lid is what hit the ground. Now the cat is digging in the trash.

I take a step closer.

The cat jumps to the ground. The hair on its back raises, and it hisses at me.

“I wouldn’t touch it if I were you,” Margo says behind me.

I lift the lid and put it back into place. “I don’t want it to get hurt. You never know what people throw away.”

The cat slowly backs up before fully scurrying down the alley.

“What if it hurts you?” Margo asks.

I shrug. “Then I get hurt.”

She’s wearing a bright blue windbreaker and her iconic earrings. These ones are smaller and don’t hang down. Her pants are stuffed into a pair of red combat boots, and she’s holding on to a fuzzy plaid purse. I have to admit, it’s not the type of outfit I think of when a girl is trying to get a guy’s attention. However, this is Margo; she doesn’t do what other people do. This fits her personality to a T. “I thought you like to wear fruit earrings?”

“Tomatoes are a fruit, and that’s a hill I’ll die on. And I don’t always wear fruit. Sometimes I change it up.”

“Like what?” I don’t know why I’m encouraging her to talk.

Her face scrunches in thought. “Well, I have a pair of donut earrings. And there’s this really cute pair of bumble bee earrings I saw the other day that I’m thinking about buying.”

“Wow. Daring.”

She scowls. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. Now, show me where the storage unit is.”

I lead her to the gate where I punch in my access code, and we walk past at least twenty units before we get to Grandma’s. There’s a lock at the bottom. I fish the key out of my pocket and unlock the unit. I push up the door, and it rattles as it reveals all of Grandma’s old furniture piled on top of each other.

My heart drops. It’s been months since I saw any of these things. I refused to help fill boxes or move them into the storage unit. I couldn’t. The house Grandma owned for years—my home—was being stripped in front of my eyes. Every time Laura asked me if I wanted to bring something to her house, my answer was always the same: no. I didn’t need reminders of my life being destroyed.

Grandma didn’t tell me she was selling the house. I came home one day to the sign in our yard. That was the same day I found out I’d be moving in with Laura. I didn’t get a choice. She didn’t ask me how I felt about it because it didn’t matter. Grandma had made up her mind, and what I thought wasn’t important.

“Where should we start looking?” Margo asks. There’s a narrow clearing in the center she steps into.

I blink, refocusing and forcing myself to step forward. “I’m not really sure. Her stuff could be anywhere. It used to be in our attic.”

Margo starts opening boxes and peeking inside. “Do you remember anything else?”

“It’s in an old maroon trunk.”

“That shouldn’t be too hard to find,” she says. She takes out her phone and turns on the flashlight. The daylight helps, but it’s still dark in here, making it hard to see the farther we go in. “I think we’re going to have to move some things.” She reaches up to grab one of our dining chairs that’s stacked upside down and pushes it into me. “Here you go.”

My hands wrap around the wood, and I walk backwards until I find another spot for it. I flip it right side up and set it outside of the unit while we continue looking.

“Do you have any idea where it would be?”

“You’re the finder. Go find it,” I say.

“Fine. I will.” Margo starts climbing on top of the kitchen table. She’s on her knees, getting ready to stand. The table shouldn’t have been saved. It’s old. The legs are uneven, and there’s a crack running through the center. It wobbles and tilts to the side. She’s going to fall.

She shrieks.

I rush back toward her, put my hands out, and catch her around the waist.

Her arms wrap around my neck. She’s so close I can see every shade that makes up her big brown eyes. They widen even more.

Did she do this on purpose? Did she want me to catch her? Does this mean I’m right?

Why is my face starting to warm?

“You can put me down,” she says.

“Right.” I lower her to her feet. I scratch the back of my head and look away. “Don’t get on that again. You’re going to get yourself hurt.”

“Then help me move it,” she says. “I think I see something on the shelf in the corner.”

I take one end, and she takes the other. We move it about a foot, just enough for her to slip through. She moves some boxes, setting them on the table. I keep them steady so they don’t fall the same way she did.

She almost closes herself in by rearranging everything. “Ah-ha!”

“What?”

She tugs on something large. “I think this might be it.”

I’m on the other side of her wall, and I can barely see her. “What does it look like?”

“It’s big and maroon.”

“That’s it.” I’ve seen it countless times while growing up. More than once, I sat in front of it in the attic, but I was never brave enough to open it. My mom didn’t want a kid, and I was afraid I’d find proof of how much she regretted me in that trunk.

“It’s kind of heavy. I don’t think I can lift it.”

I start moving more boxes out of the unit so I can clear the path enough to squeeze past the table too.

Margo kneels in front of the trunk and flips it open. It’s full of clothes and shoes.

I bend down next to her, but I don’t touch anything.

“Could you hold the light please?” she asks, handing me her phone.

I aim it to shine directly into the trunk.

Margo rummages through it, pulling out my mom’s things. As she gets closer to the bottom, there’s a stack of photos. Margo flips through them quickly and sets them to the side. Then, she goes back to digging in the trunk. Before I know it, the trunk is empty.

There’s nothing. No clues. No proof of my dad. There isn’t even anything that would show I was a part of her life. She didn’t hold on to a baby outfit or pictures of me. It’s like I didn’t exist in her world.

Margo sits back, chewing on her lip.

“Are there any other boxes with things from your mom?”

I shake my head. “Grandma didn’t keep reminders of my mom around.” My mom wasn’t exactly a role model. Grandma only kept a couple family pictures from when she was younger. Everything else was in this trunk.

“Well, let’s put this back, and I’ll look around a little more. Maybe there’s a clue somewhere.” I can tell by the tone in her voice she isn’t hopeful.

She starts to put the clothes and shoes back in, but when she gets to the photos, she pauses.

“What is it?” I ask. The pictures are just of my mom, young, with friends. None of them are guys.

She holds up a photo. “Do you know who this is?”

“No.”

She smiles. “Well, we need to find out.”

“Why?”

She shakes the photo a little. “Look at this. Does anything look odd?”

It’s just a picture of my mom and her friend on their graduation day. There’s nothing special about it. I shake my head.

“This isn’t the same size as the other pictures. Look closer. Someone’s been cut out.”

I take the photo and study it. She’s right. There’s an extra hand around my mom’s waist like someone else is supposed to be in it.

“We need to figure out who your mom’s friend is because I’m ninety-nine percent sure whoever got cut out of this photo is your dad.”

My heart stops.

Could she be right? Are we really that close to finding him?

“Well, what do we do now?” I ask, knowing Margo is already five steps ahead of me. She’s like a chess player already seeing the win in sight.

“We could show your grandma the picture. Maybe she’ll recognize the girl. I mean she’s in half of these, so your grandma has to know her.”

“It just depends on the day.”

Margo chews at her lip. “Is there anyone that would know? What about your cousin?”

I shake my head. “My mom lived in Seattle growing up and hardly saw them. They didn’t move here until I was born. I doubt she knows anything.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to ask. But if she doesn’t, we have other options. I don’t know anyone who doesn’t have a digital footprint. There’s always a trail. We just have to find it.” She starts to put away the boxes she moved. “Let’s get this mess cleaned up. I have to be home by four.”

She wants to leave already? I thought we were on to something. I figured we’d keep looking. This feels too soon.

“You have plans later?” I don’t know why I asked. Of course she does.

“Annie and I are going to the movies. I promised her, and I don’t want to be late.”

That’s a perfectly reasonable excuse. She’s not trying to get away. She has no choice but to leave. She made a promise, and I respect her for keeping it. Most people I know don’t know how to keep those.

“You can head out if you want to. I can put everything back so you aren’t late.”

She laughs. “I made the mess. I’m not about to ditch.” She moves quickly, not very gracefully, but it’s entertaining. “Here,” she says, loading up my arms with loose items and boxes. “Those were over there.” She points to the far corner.

I stack them and wait for her to hand me more. Once we have the majority put away, we get ready to move the table. Margo’s face strains as it lifts, and when we set it down, she leans against it for a moment. Her face seems a little pale.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

She nods. “Yeah,” she says, breathless. “I just need a second.” After a moment she stands taller and smiles. “I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“Mm-hmm.” She maneuvers around the table. “All we need to do is put that chair back.”

We walk out of the unit and Margo waits outside while I set the chair on top of the table. When I come back, her cheeks are pink. Did she blush? If she did, why? Was it because of me?

I shake it off, pretending not to notice. I bend down and lock the door. “You have the picture, right?”

She nods and hands it to me. I put it in my pocket.

We walk back to the front gate and I make sure to close the gate behind us. As we walk farther down the sidewalk there’s a rustling in the alleyway, and I stop. “Do you hear that?”

“No.”

I hold my finger to my lips and look around.

There’s a faint whimper.

I follow the sound until I find the cat from earlier huddled behind a dumpster. It has blood dripping down its leg, and there are plastic rings around its neck from a six-pack. The plastic is also caught on a jagged edge of the dumpster, trapping the cat.

I take a step closer, and it hisses at me.

Margo pulls my arm. “What if it bites you?”

“Then it bites me. Someone has to help it.”

She grips tighter. “Isn’t there someone we can call to help? There are people who take care of strays.”

“No!” It comes out much more harshly than I meant. Then I say a little quieter, “Everyone knows what happens to strays no one wants.”

She lets me go. “Okay. You’re right.”

I inch closer to the cat. “Hey, buddy.”

Its hair stands up and its back arches as it tries to get away from me. Its hissing only increases.

“It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you,” I say. I reach into my jacket for my pocket knife. Then I slip my jacket off. Quickly, I throw it over the cat, leaving a small spot bare so I can stop it from hurting me while I cut the plastic. The cat thrashes about, and I feel it biting through the fabric.

I wince, but stay focused until the plastic is completely removed. Then, I jump back.

The cat scurries away the second it’s free. It slows halfway down the alley and tilts its head from side to side as if it finally realizes it’s free.

I smile.

“Daniel?”

My gaze shifts back to Margo.

Her brow furrows, and she reaches out to me. “You’re bleeding.”

Her touch throws me off, and I tug my hand back. “It’s fine. I don’t even feel it.” Who cares if there’s a little blood? I was raised to be tough. This is nothing.

She takes my hand again, and this time I don’t pull away. She brings it close to her face, looking it over. Then her soft gaze shifts up to me. Her usual hard expression has melted away. She stares at me with genuine concern and says, “Just because you can’t feel it doesn’t mean you aren’t hurt.”

My heart stops. There’s a lump at the back of my throat, and I force myself to breathe. I watch her eyes, looking for any sign of deception, but there isn’t any. She wholeheartedly believes what she said.

Is that the kind of thing people say when they care about you?

She shuffles through her bag. “There’s a corner store a couple blocks down. Let’s go there and get some disinfectant and Band-Aids.”

My jacket is still lying on the ground. I grab it and wrap it around my hand. “It’s fine. I’ll take care of it when I get home. I don’t want you to be late.”

She crosses her arms and shakes her head. “No.” Then, she takes hold of me by my arm and starts to march back down the alleyway. “You deserve to be taken care of too.”

Margo leaves no room for argument.

I let her lead me away.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

MARGO

I march down to the corner store with a clear mission. I find the aisle with everything from gauze to pain meds. Daniel stands awkwardly behind me as I find what I need. I try to be quick, but at the same time I make sure to read the packages to make sure I’m not getting something that’s cheap quality.

“Okay, let’s go,” I say, walking off.

I set everything down at the checkout and pull out cash before he has a chance to even offer to pay. Besides, it’s only like ten dollars. I don’t mind. A person can never have too many Band-Aids.

“Do you need a bag?” the cashier asks.

“No thanks,” I say. I finish the transaction and lead Daniel back outside. We walk down to the bus stop, where there’s a bench, making it much easier to clean his hand. “Sit down.”

It’s fun ordering him around because I didn’t think he’d be the type to listen to me. And yet, here he is, sitting down.

I hold my hands out, waiting for him to take the hint.

He takes the jacket off his hand, which he had been using to stop the blood from getting on anything else, and brings it closer to me. But not close enough.

I pull his hand closer, then I take one of the disinfectant wipes and dab his skin.

He sucks in a breath, which I’m assuming is from the sting of the disinfectant. I always hated that feeling growing up, but after living in the hospital for so long, I grew used to it.

I take a couple Band-Aids and place them over the scratches. I turn his hand over to make sure I didn’t miss anything. “There. Good as new.”

There’s the slightest pull on his lips as he looks down at his hand. Like he wants to smile but won’t let himself. “Thanks.”

I put the wipes and bandages in my bag and lean back against the bench.

The bus appears on the horizon, and I find my pass. “Are you getting on this one too?”

He nods. “But I have to get off at Monroe and get on a connecting bus.”

“That makes sense,” I say. I’m not going to lie, the bus routes confuse me. I know how to get home from downtown, but I don’t use them that often. I did today because I felt like it was easier than convincing someone to drop me off. I didn’t feel like coming up with a story to explain myself.

The bus hisses to a stop. I get on with Daniel trailing behind me. I swipe my pass and head down the aisle. The bus starts moving, and I lose my footing. Daniel steadies me with a hand on my back. My heart skips, and I’m quick to move toward the back row. I sit down by the window and watch the buildings go by, pretending I didn’t notice his touch.

Considering how he wants nothing to do with me, I expect Daniel to sit down as far away as possible, but he passes rows of empty seats. He passes so many opportunities to sit somewhere else, and instead, he chooses the seat right next to me.

Is it because I helped him just now? Am I starting to grow on him? Or does he just feel obligated to sit next to me because I’m by myself?

I thought I had him completely figured out, but I’m starting to realize I don’t know him at all. Daniel Hansen is a complete mystery to me.

I rush through our front door and straight into my bedroom to find Annie.

She’s sitting on her bed, scrolling through her phone.

“I know I’m late, but we can still make it.”

She doesn’t look up. “It starts in ten minutes.”

“So we’ll miss the ads. That’s not so bad.” I sit next to her. “Please. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I’ll buy you those candies you like, and we can go get takeout after. I’ll let you choose where.”

“I was really excited to see this movie,” she says. Her eyes are cast down, mirroring the pout on her lips.

Total gut punch. I don’t want her to feel like I don’t want to spend time with her. I want nothing more than to listen to her tangents on what characters she likes or dislikes in books she’s reading or which version of Pride and Prejudice is better.

“Are you sure I can’t make it up to you?”

She bites her lip. “Well, how much candy are you willing to buy?”

I stand up and smile, pulling her to her feet. “As much as it takes.”

“Be careful what you ask for.”

She hasn’t completely relaxed, but she made a joke, which is a good sign. It’s a start. I have to be on my best behavior over the next few days. No being late or ditching plans. I need to be present. I need to show her that she’s my priority.

I sit in the passenger seat as Annie drives to the mall’s theater. She’s quiet, and I have to break the silence. “So what’s this movie about again?”

Her jaw falls. “Ads for it have been everywhere. It’s about a woman who gets amnesia and falls in love with the doctor who helps her get her memories back.” She glances at me and waves her finger. “And I don’t want to hear about how unrealistic it is. I read and watch fiction for a reason.”

“Says the girl that wants an epic love story.”

“Everyone deserves an epic love story. Other people might settle for less, but I won’t.”

The streetlights bounce across her face, illuminating her pretty smile, and now more than ever, I hope she’s right. I hope she falls in love so deeply she never falls apart. I hope she finds someone that values her and never lets her feel less than. She deserves the world.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let you settle,” I say.

“I know.” She laughs. “I feel bad for anyone who ever hurts me because they’ll have to deal with you.”

“As they should.”

I take my role as her twin sister very seriously, especially since she’s so scared to stand up for herself. I’ve been protecting her ever since I could walk and talk.

As soon as she parks, I jump out. “Race you!”

She takes off after me. “Wait up!”

I skid to a brief stop to look for cars before running into the building. She comes up behind me and links arms with me. “At least there’s no line.”

No ads and no line. Maybe we should be late to the movies more often.

We pay for our tickets, and I buy Annie two candy boxes in addition to the bucket of popcorn we plan to share. With our hands full we head down the hallway and look for the right number for our movie.

“It’s this one,” I say, glancing up from the ticket.

Annie smiles and runs up to the door. “Come on.”

The large room is already dark and the movie plays on a screen so big it makes me feel like an ant. There are lots of empty seats.

“Where do you want to sit?” I whisper. I prefer to be in the middle. That way your head isn’t craned from staring up when you sit too close to the screen, and on the flip side, I’m not distracted by the other people in the theater by sitting at the top.

Her smile grows and the lights from the movie flashes against her skin. “Let’s sit at the very top.”

“Okay, lead the way,” I say.

She rushes up the stairs and finds a seat in the very top row. We’re so close to the top that we can see the projector.

Annie can hardly stay still because she’s so excited. She tears right into her sour candy and leans back. “Watch the movie,” she whispers.

I chuckle and shift my eyes to the screen. The theater is dark, but the light from the screen bounces off the chairs in front of us, lighting them up. We walked in on a scene where the main character is driving, and I’m assuming she’s going to crash. It’s raining and the background music is eerie. I desperately want to know if I’m right, but my eyes are heavy. I widen them, hoping I can force them open, but my attempts are in vain. I don’t know at what point I fell asleep, but I wake up to Annie nudging me. “How could you possibly fall asleep during that masterpiece?”

“I wasn’t sleeping.”

She raises her brow. “You dropped the popcorn halfway through.”

“Oops.”

“Fortunately for you, it landed right side up,” she says.

The lights are on now.

“Sorry,” I say. “Did you like it, though?”

“It was perfect. I’ll have to fill you in on the drive home because you missed the best part.” She holds out her hand, and I take it as she pulls me to stand.

Pain shoots up my side, but I try my best not to let it show.

“Are you okay? You’ve been sleeping a lot lately,” she asks.

I nod. “School’s been wearing me out.”

“Well, next time let’s get you an energy drink before we come.”

“Okay,” I say with a laugh.

We take our time leaving the theater and head into the mall’s food court. As we wait in line for hamburgers, I pull out my phone and notice a missed call.

Daniel called me.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

DANIEL

Earlier that evening

The Miller family is a sit-at-the-table-while-we-eat kind of family. It’s always awkward. I sit there quietly while they each talk about their day. Olive does most of the talking, but Laura mentions a new diet she’s trying and Rob tells us about his newest contract.

I finish my food and take my plate to the sink before heading back to my room. Thankfully, Rob is done using it for the day. I shut the door and lie on the bed. I find myself staring at my hand, holding it above my face and analyzing Margo’s handiwork.

I’m not the type of person who listens, but I let her order me around today. I followed her into the corner store, and I let her bandage me up. Why? Was it because I wanted her to? Why did my heart beat faster when she touched my hand?

I stir, rolling over to grab my phone. I bring up her messages. She wouldn’t have done that today if she didn’t like me. There’s no way. She would’ve just left. I know that. That’s what people do when they don’t care about you.

She stayed. She took care of me.

There’s a knock at my door and I fumble, dropping the phone as Olive barges into my room.

“My audition is coming up,” she says, walking in. “I really need someone to help me practice my lines.”

I grab my phone, and my heart jumps. I’m accidentally calling Margo. I must’ve tapped the call button when I dropped my phone. My nervous system lights up, every part of me on fire. I end the call and hold my breath. My pulse is racing.

“What’s with you?” Olive says, scowling. “Are you doing something you shouldn’t?”

“No, it’s not like that.” Well . . . I mean I did call Margo, which is definitely something I shouldn’t do, but I’m not going to tell Olive about that.

Olive scowls and leans against the wall, crossing her arms. “Are you sure? Because you seem pretty guilty.”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“I’ll leave if you say you’ll help me practice my lines later,” she says.

“Fine. I’ll do it,” I say. “Now, get out of here.”

Olive smiles and ducks out of the room.

I’m not going to be able to sleep after the way my pulse jumped at the idea of calling Margo. My nervous system is on edge. My eyes are never going to close at this rate. They will stay open forever.

To try and get my mind off it, I reach for my messenger bag. I fish out my book and start writing to clear my head.

At five minutes past eight, my phone rings. Margo’s name fills the screen, and my hands go numb. Should I answer it? What would I say? I’m bad at talking on the phone. I’m bad at talking in general.

I bite my lip and answer it. I can just explain to her what happened and hang up. No, on second thought, I shouldn’t do that. How am I supposed to explain I was looking at her messages? She’d take that the wrong way. I’m sure of it.

But there’s also a tiny part of me that wants to hear her voice again. I like the squeal she makes when she laughs and the sarcastic tone that coats most of her words.

“Hello,” she says. Her voice is almost too quiet to hear.

“Hi.”

Hi? I grimace. Why did I do this?

“Are you going to say something?” she asks.

I stare at my ceiling, trying to convince myself this is something normal people do. It shouldn’t be hard, and yet, this feels like the most unnatural thing I’ve ever done. “Like what?”

She chuckles. “Like . . . tell me why you called.”

“Oh, that.” I need an excuse, and I need it fast.

“Yeah, that.” She is so quiet, so unlike Margo. While I should be thinking about what to say, the only thing on my mind is why she’s acting weird.

“Why are you whispering?”

“Because I’m in the bathroom— No, I mean, I’m not using it. I’m just in it. Calling you.”

I laugh softly. “Why?”

“I asked my question first,” she says.

I scratch my head, searching for an answer that doesn’t exist. I finally settle on the most obvious reason I can think of. “Did you find my dad yet?”

“Really? You can’t be serious.” I can picture her face mocking me. Judging me.

The corner of my mouth pulls up. “Well, did you?”

“You are the most impatient person I’ve ever met. It’s been four hours since I saw you, and I was at the movies. Did you expect me to pull him out of a hat for you? Things like this take time. It won’t happen overnight.”

My chest eases, and I start to relax. “Aren’t you the self-proclaimed Great Margo Blakely? I feel like everything you do should take a maximum of two-to-four business days.”

“I wish. Don’t you think I would’ve found him already if I could?”

I pause. It’s hard to say. She’s the one who told me she has a plan. What if she’s purposely stalling so she can spend more time with me? But then again, we’ve already made a lot of progress. I don’t think she’s stalling. “Well, the sooner you find him, the sooner I can get that thing over with that you wanted me to do. What was it again?” Maybe she’ll slip up and confirm my suspicions.

“Aw, charming. That thing happens to be very important, and I can’t have you messing it up.”

“It would be easier if you told me more about it.”

“Nice try, but I’m not going to tell you who it is yet.”

“Fine. Then answer my other question,” I say. “Why are you hiding in your bathroom?”

“Who said I was hiding?”

Is there another reason that would make sense? Because I’m fairly certain it’s not a place where people hang out. “Aren’t you?”

“Maybe I just like the acoustics in the bathroom. Haven’t you noticed every singer on social media nowadays sings in the bathroom? I’m telling you I sound great in here.”

I picture Margo. She’s probably huddled in the corner, lights off, and the door locked. “So you’re hiding.”

“Yes, I’m hiding,” she says. “I don’t want Annie to hear me talking to you.”

I don’t know if that’s good or bad. “Why not?”

“She wouldn’t understand. It’s complicated, and I don’t feel like explaining it to her right now.”

“So I’m a secret?” My chest tightens.

“Yeah. For now.”

For now? I don’t know if she can be any more obvious. She plans to tell her sister about me eventually, which means I have to be right. She likes me.

“I’m going to have to hang up now. I still have homework to finish before tomorrow,” she says.

I’m not sure why, but I like being Margo’s secret. I shouldn’t, but I do. “Yeah, sorry to distract you.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. I like distractions.”

She likes distractions, and right now I’m the distraction. My smile breaks free. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you,” she replies before hanging up.

I lie down on my pillow, fully ready to drift off to sleep, when I hear the washer machine click on. It’s so loud I swear I could hear it from two houses down.

My eyes bug out.

The picture. It was in my jacket pocket. It’s the only shred of hope I have of finding my dad.

I jump out of bed and run into the laundry room. Laura still stands in front of the washer, putting the detergent away.

I tug on the door, forcing it open. With flailing arms, I rush to the washing machine. The clothes are only starting to get wet. I crouch down in front of the opening and pull clothes out by handfuls.

“What are you doing?” Laura asks.

“My jacket.” My temples are sweating and my lungs sting. Tears prick my eyes. “I need my jacket.”

Laura bends down on her knees in front of the washer. She puts a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll find it for you.” She reaches in, moving things around until she pulls out my jet-black jacket. “It’s right here.”

It’s damp, and I chew my lip as I reach into the pocket. Carefully, I pull out the picture. It’s crumbled, and the bottom corner’s colors are bleeding into each other, but I can still make out the most important part. Mom’s friend is still clearly visible.

I breathe out a sigh of relief as I set the picture down on top of the washing machine.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know your mom’s picture was in there.” Laura rubs her face, and her shoulders slump forward. “I should’ve checked the pockets. I promise I won’t let that happen again, and we can get another picture of your mom.”

“I don’t need another picture of my mom,” I say, fanning the photo with my hand.

“Really, it’s no trouble. I’ll go look for one now.”

She moves to pass me, but I gently grab her arm. “I’m serious. I don’t need another picture of my mom. The only reason I needed this picture is because I’m trying to figure out who the other girl is.”

Laura looks at the photo closer. Her eyebrows pinch together. “I know her.”

“You do?” My mom grew up about four hours away, and from what I was told growing up, Laura’s family and my family didn’t do much together because of my mom and her bad habits.

Laura nods. “Yeah, she came with your mom to my graduation party.”

And here I thought Margo was the only one capable of finding clues. “What’s her name?”

Laura sighs. “I’m bad with names. I want to say Melissa, but I don’t think that’s right.” She scratches her head. “Raegan? No. It was definitely a M name. Melony?” She slaps a hand over her mouth. “It’s Meghan.”

“You’re sure?”

She nods. “I’m positive.”

“What about her last name?”

She sucks in a breath. “I don’t think I know it. Even if she did tell me what it was, it’s been so long that I doubt I’ll be able to remember it.”

It’s still more than I knew five seconds ago.

“Why are you curious?” she asks. “Do you have questions about your mom?”

I don’t think I can tell her about looking for my dad. Not yet anyway. I don’t know how she’ll react. What if she tells me to stop looking? I can’t risk it. “Yeah, I’m hoping she can clear some things up for me.”

She smiles. “That makes sense. Well, I’ll let you know if I think of anything else.”

“Thanks,” I say. Carefully, I pick up the photo and bring it back to my room. I set it down on the end table to dry out.

CHAPTER TWENTY

MARGO

Monday morning

“Do you have to work today?” I ask.

Annie nods, closing the car door behind her. “I work today and tomorrow.”

“Wow, two days in a row.”

She shrugs. “Well, I might’ve asked for a few extra shifts because I want to buy a new outfit for the concert.”

My jaw drops, and I round the car to catch up to her. “Tell me everything. Are we talking sparkles? Sequins? What about jewelry and makeup?”

She glares. “I don’t want to look like a clown.”

“Well, tell me what you have in mind then,” I say as we enter the school.

“There’s a cute white top with tulle sleeves that I want to get.”

I gasp. “You’d look gorgeous in that! Forget sparkles and sequins. You don’t need it.”

She smiles. “What are you going to wear?”

I laugh as we start to walk into the school because she knows exactly what I’ll wear. “Probably sparkles and sequins. I want to look like the night sky.”

“Of course you do,” she says. “Maybe we should go shopping later and find something for you. I’ll have extra cash after all.”

I come to a full stop. “Am I dreaming? Did you actually offer to go shopping with me?”

“Online,” she says, pulling me along.

“Oh,” I say, a little disappointed.

She laughs. “I’m kidding. You got me tickets. The least I can do is go shopping with you. Even if that means venturing out into public.”

I give her a side hug, squeezing her tightly.

The hallway is pretty crowded because two buses just arrived, and the kids are streaming in all at once.

“It’s probably good practice,” I say. “There are going to be thousands of people at the concert.”

“That’s different. Broken Sage will be there. I will gladly make an exception.”

“Your logic is flawed,” I say.

“It makes perfect sense to me.”

We near the next hallway. “Are you headed to the library?”

“As usual,” she says.

“I’ll probably head to the cafeteria.” I lift my foot to take my first step around the corner, but I’m jerked backwards. I spin around, half expecting to see one of my friends, but Daniel stares back at me. He’s dressed in all black, making his dark blond hair stand out. It’s wild, covering his eyes.

I open my mouth to demand an explanation, but he lifts his finger to his lips. “Trust me.” Then, he takes ahold of my hand, and the next thing I know, we’re running in the opposite direction. He leads me all the way to the freshman wing of the high school before stopping.

“What’s the big idea?” I ask, not particularly happy with being kidnapped.

He lets go, hands immediately thrown into his pockets. “I figured you didn’t want your sister seeing me talking with you.”

“And this was the answer?” My brow furrows as I gesture to the freshman around us.

“I know the name of the girl in the picture,” he blurts out.

My head tilts to the side. I didn’t think Daniel was the type to go and investigate on his own. He’s never seemed like a motivated person. He seems like the type who waits for everyone else to do the hard work for him, but clearly I’m wrong. “How?”

“Laura met her a long time ago and told me her name is Meghan.”

I smile. He’s so hooked on finding his father he’s making my job easier. “That’s amazing. What about her last name?”

“All I have is a first name, but that’s better than nothing.” He smiles, and I realize I’ve never seen it before. Not really. It’s lopsided, his teeth are a little crooked, but somehow perfect.

My heart flutters, because for the first time, I think I might see a glimpse of what Annie sees.

There’s a sparkle in his usually dark eyes that lights up his face. I wonder if Annie’s ever seen this smile. Is this why she found him so attractive? I start to reach for him, mesmerized by his joy. I want to see if it’s real or if I’m imagining it, but I stop myself before I touch his smile.

His gaze flickers to my hand, and I’m horrified. “You’re right. It’s huge. Great job, detective,” I say, trying to save myself. I hold up my hand for a high five.

He grimaces as if I’ve insulted him. “No.”

I roll my eyes, and wave my hand in front of him. “Come on. You deserve this.”

He shakes his head.

“You know you want to.” I wiggle my fingers and firmly plant my feet onto the floor. I will not be moving anytime soon. I will get this high five.

He looks over his shoulder, then he reluctantly takes a hand out of his pocket. He taps his palm against mine so fast he looks like he’s touching a hot stove. His arm falls limp at his side. “There, happy?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

His cheeks burn red from embarrassment. “So do you want to look for more clues today?”

Considering how I’m not supposed to be on my phone during class, searching for clues at school is going to be tough, but Annie is working later. That means I’m free to do whatever I want until she’s done. “We can head to your house after school.”

“My house?” His voice cracks.

Did I scare him? Is that possible? “Yup, you know that place you sleep at? That one.” I’m not about to bring him to my house. I don’t want to deal with the amount of explaining I’d have to do.

“Right,” he says. “That one.”

My phone starts buzzing. Annie’s contact fills the screen. “I have to take this, but we can talk more about it in class,” I say.

He nods as I answer my phone and wander off.

I walk with Annie after school to her car and grab the ChapStick I left in the passenger seat.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drop you off at home?” she asks.

“I’ll be fine, I promise. Besides, I don’t want you to be late to work.”

She slides into the car. “Just don’t complain about taking the bus next time I see you.”

I laugh. “Trust me, I won’t. Now drive safe.” I close her door for her and wave as I step away.

She waves back and then starts to reverse.

The yellow school buses are all still lined up in front of the school, but I start running toward the city bus stop instead. I’m pushing it. The bus pulls up, and the group of kids that are huddled around the stop get on while I’m still way too far back. I wave my arms wildly in the air, trying to catch the driver’s attention, but the bus starts leaving anyway.

I fold over, hands on my knees as I try to catch my breath. No matter how hard I try to be graceful, I’m well aware that I look like a cow gasping for air. Now what? I was supposed to be on that bus with Daniel. He probably thinks I stood him up.

“What are you doing?” Two black shoes appear in front of me.

I peer up, clutching my side. Daniel stands with his hands in his pockets, one eyebrow raised.

“Why aren’t you on the bus?” I ask.

“You weren’t here yet.”

I straighten up, still very much breathless. “So you missed your bus to wait for me?”

“Relax. It comes every twenty minutes. It’s not a big deal.”

“Oh, right.” I set my backpack on the ground between my feet.

“Besides, the next bus will be less crowded.”

That’s true. Usually the first bus after school is the busiest. Sometimes it looks like a sardine can with how many students try to squeeze in.

“Well, thanks for waiting. It gives me someone to talk to. Not that we have to talk, of course. But we can if you want to.”

He laughs softly. “I don’t think you’re capable of not talking.”

“I can,” I say, “for short periods of time.”

“Why do you talk so much?”

I’ve never really thought about it very much. My whole life I was a talker. Like Mama. I think the world created people like us to make sure there was never too much silence. “There’s just always so much to say. Everywhere I look, I see beautiful and fascinating things that make my mind race, and instead of holding back, I let all those thoughts out.”

“Really? What’s so beautiful and fascinating about this?” He motions around us to the road and school.

“What about that?” I point to a green plant poking through the sidewalk.

“A weed? You think a weed is beautiful and fascinating?”

I can understand the skepticism, but that’s only because he isn’t looking at it the same way as I am. “You see a weed. I see something else.”

His brow furrows. He crouches down to get a closer look. “Which is?”

“It’s growing somewhere it shouldn’t. Despite the odds, it managed to find a crack in the concrete and sprout. That’s pretty cool if you ask me.”

“I’m sorry, but that’s ridiculous.” He shakes his head. “That sounds like an intro to a book about peace and love.”

So what if it were? “Are you always so negative?”

“The real world isn’t as bubbly as you make it seem. More often than not, people hurt each other. That’s just what we do. It’s how we’re wired.” He stands back up and nonchalantly glances down the road as if he didn’t just say the most heartbreaking thing I’ve ever heard.

I find myself letting my thoughts run wild. He can’t possibly think that? Has no one ever given the poor kid a hug? “You don’t actually believe that, do you?”

He shrugs, watching the road. I know he’s been hurt growing up, but I don’t think it’s fair to assume everyone will treat him the way his family did.

I decide his reasoning is completely unacceptable. “So what if there are some bad people out there. Not everyone hurts people. People aren’t born bad. It doesn’t matter where someone comes from or who they are, they get to choose who they become. That goes for you too, you know.”

I can tell by his sullen expression he doesn’t agree, but I don’t care. I know it’s the truth.

“You asked me why I talk so much: well, talking is my superpower. One word can change someone’s entire day for the better.”

“Is that so?”

I nod. “And I plan to change yours.”

He side-eyes me. “Really?”

I cross my arms and hold my head high. “Consider yourself warned. I’m about to brighten your day.”

So what if he hates the world? I’m determined to show him another perspective. I don’t like knowing someone is as unhappy as he is when I know I can fix it.

“The bus is coming,” he says, nodding toward it. Then, he reaches down and grabs my backpack. He slings it over his shoulder. The bright blue fabric stands out against his dark clothes.

“I can carry it,” I say.

The bus stops in front of us, and the doors open.

“Don’t bother,” he replies, getting on the bus and not leaving any room for argument.

I’m not used to the version of Daniel who saves cats and holds bags. It makes me wonder if maybe Daniel isn’t as bad as he appears.

I scan my card and follow him to his usual spot at the back. My bag is on his lap and that’s where it stays the entire ride. He doesn’t hand it to me or gesture for me to take it, and I have a feeling if I tried to take it, he’d refuse to hand it over. When we get to his stop, he slings it over his shoulder again and carries it the entire way to the house.

I have to admit, it’s nice not carrying it. It’s heavy and always leaves me winded when I carry it around, but I’m not used to someone else taking it.

Daniel heads inside the house, and I close the door behind us.

“I’m going to grab the picture. It’s in my room,” he says.

I follow him to it, stepping inside a room that doesn’t feel like a bedroom. At least not Daniel’s room. It’s nothing like him. It’s neat and sterile, like a hospital. The only sign that he belongs here is the bedside table. I spot the book Annie continually rants about. The one by Jules Verne.

I inch closer, picking it up.

“Don’t touch that,” he says, lunging toward me and ripping it out of my hands.

I stare back, wide-eyed. “Relax. It’s just a book.”

His expression softens, looking at the book and then back at me. “It’s not just a book.”

“What do you mean?”

He chews at his lip as if he’s trying to decipher the situation and figure out his next move. “I don’t know how to explain it.” After holding it so tightly, he glances at me, and then he does the most unexpected thing. He carefully places it in my hands.

“You don’t have to show it to me if you don’t want to,” I say. I’m not exactly sure what I stumbled onto, but all of a sudden, this is too personal. I know he’s about to show me something I can guarantee no one else has seen.

“I want to.” He sits down on the bed. He’s nervous, feet twitching. “You already know more about me than anyone else. You might as well know about this too.”

I sit next to him and open the book. It might be a Jules Verne story, but in every inch of empty space and margin are words written by Daniel. Poems. Statements. Pain.

“When I was little, I found this book with my mom’s name written in the front. I thought if I read it, I’d understand her more, but I didn’t make it past the first chapter. I was mad and tried to ruin it by ripping some of the pages out. Then I started writing in it—to vandalize it, I guess—and I’ve never stopped.”

These words and poems are so sad. It’s all the emotions he bottles up inside himself and never lets out.

“You probably think it’s weird,” he says.

“No.” I close the book and hand it back. “If anything, I think it helps me understand you a little more.”

Daniel isn’t scary. He’s hurt. He’s wounded and doesn’t know how to heal. I realize more than ever how important it is for us to find his father. He needs to belong and feel wanted. His father could be the missing piece.

“Is that a good thing?” he asks, looking away as if he’s afraid to see my reaction.

“Yeah.” I feel the urge to wrap him in a hug, hold him together, but I resist.

In this moment I know I can’t go through with my plan anymore. I don’t want Daniel to scare Annie off. I think I should let Annie get to know him. She wasn’t wrong to like him in the first place. Maybe they could be good together after all, or maybe they would end up being friends. Then they both wouldn’t be so lonely.

He clears his throat and stands up. “The picture is over here,” he says. He walks over to the desk on the other side of the room and picks it up. “It got a little wet.”

The picture is a lot more damaged than I was expecting, but the girl is still visible.

A man knocks on the door and steps into the room. “Hey kids, I need to finish something for work,” he says. He brings the phone back to his ear. “Sorry, Steve. Where were we?” He pulls out the chair at the desk and sits down.

Daniel nods toward the door, and I take the hint to leave. We wade in to the living room, and I sit down on the tan sofa in the middle of the room. Daniel’s eyes wander around, clearly deciding whether or not he wants to sit beside me. There’s another chair across the room, but slowly he sits down next to me.

“I thought that was your room,” I say.

“Nothing in this house is mine.” His tone is cold, making my heart hurt even more for him.

“Laura and her husband seem so nice. I bet if you gave them—”

“They only took me in because they felt like they had to,” he says with a hardened expression. “Once I turn eighteen, I’m out of here.”

I don’t know if I believe that. I’m sure they care about him, but that’s not what he wants to hear right now. Arguing about it would only make him feel like his feelings aren’t valid, and I don’t want to do that. Telling someone they’re okay when they feel hurt doesn’t solve anything. It just pushes them away.

I lean back on the couch and stare at the picture. “Can you tell me what you know about your mom?”

Daniel sits back too, following my gaze. “She grew up in Seattle. They didn’t move here until I was born.”

“Do you know what high school she went to?” I ask.

“No. I don’t think Grandma ever mentioned it.”

I hold the picture closer, squinting at the bleeding colors. “That’s okay.” I take out my phone and start typing in the search bar.

“Don’t tell me you already found a clue.”

I laugh. “I’m looking up a list of Seattle high schools. That way I can see which high school has the same colors as the gowns in the picture.”

“I don’t know why I didn’t think of that,” he whispers. He doesn’t say much after that, but I can feel the weight of his stare on me, watching every movement I make.

It doesn’t take me long to find the school. That’s the easy part. Then I go through a series of web searches by changing my keywords. I search the school, the year they graduated, his mom’s full name, along with “Meghan.” I look through a bunch of irrelevant articles. Most of them are newer articles about kids with the same first names. There are even a couple with random people who have Daniel’s last name. I need an old article, but his mom doesn’t strike me as someone who would have their name listed on the honor roll.

After wasting a good ten minutes on that, I move on to my next best idea: social media. I start searching random hashtags with their graduating year until I see images pop up from their graduation. At first I don’t see any with Meghan or Ashley, but then I notice Meghan’s petite frame and bright blonde hair in the back of one image.

I gasp and turn to Daniel. “I found her.”

Daniel’s eyes are closed, and his head dips forward. He jerks his head back up but a second later it’s falling again.

That can’t be comfortable.

At first I pretend not to notice. I go back to analyzing the photo, trying to see if the random account I found has any other pictures of her, but I come up empty.

Out of the corner of my eye, Daniel’s head continues bobbing.

He must be exhausted if he fell asleep so fast. I don’t think I should wake him up, but I have to do something.

I don’t have a lot of options. It’s not like I can move him.

Slowly, I reach over, pausing midway because I’m second-guessing what I’m about to do.

His head dips again, falling against my hand.

My heart flutters, and I catch my breath. Carefully, I push him up, guiding his head to my shoulder because I don’t know what else to do. I let him rest against me, and his face relaxes. His grimace is replaced with a soft expression. I’ve never seen him seem so peaceful.

I breathe in deep and refocus on my task, trying to ignore my fluttering heart and the fact that Daniel is so close. The picture I found is on an old account, but maybe if I message this person or some of the other people they have tagged, someone’ll get back to me. They might have their old yearbooks. Or who knows, maybe they’ll remember Meghan’s last name. It’s worth a shot. I start messaging any person I think might possibly be able to help. Now, I have to wait. It could be minutes or days—and that’s if they respond at all.

“Is Daniel okay?” Laura asks as she comes inside.

I almost jump at her voice because I know I shouldn’t be letting him rest on my shoulder. “Yeah, he’s just sleeping.” My voice is a little higher than it should be.

“I know,” she says, watching him intently. “He never does that.”

“What do you mean?”

“He has trouble sleeping here. I think he has nightmares.”

Is that why he’s always sleeping at school? Because he never gets a full night’s rest? My chest tightens, and the urge to hug him comes back.

“Can I get you anything?” Laura asks, still unable to take her eyes off us.

I smile. “I’m okay, but thanks.”

“Okay, well let me know if you change your mind. I’ll just be in the kitchen making dinner. You’ll stay for it, won’t you? We’d love to get to know you more. You’re the first friend Daniel’s brought home.”

“Sure, I’d love to.”

Laura grins. “Perfect. I’ll go get it started.”

When she leaves the room, my attention drifts back to Daniel. He’s so close I can smell the woodsy scent of his shampoo. He has three freckles. One under his eye and two on his cheek. His hair is a mess, scattered all over, bangs in his eyes.

I’m scared of the feeling building in me. I want to know the thoughts running through his head. What is he dreaming about?

My heart starts to race again as I run my hand through his bangs, brushing them out of his eyes. My hand lingers a little longer than it should as I let myself hold on to this moment, knowing that when he wakes up, I’ll pretend it never happened. I’ll remind myself that he’s not mine. That there’s no reason for me to get to know him.

I take a deep breath and start to pull away.

His eyes flutter open, and his hand covers mine, keeping it tangled in his hair.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

DANIEL

Five minutes earlier

I’m dreaming about Margo.

I picture her smile, big and bright, as she takes my hand and leads me through a field of flowers. The sun twinkles across her face, and she bends down to smell a wildflower. She motions for me to copy her, and I do even though I’ve never cared about flowers before. The flower is as pink as the blush on her cheeks.

I like it here. I lie down on the grass and watch as birds fly overhead in the blue sky. Margo lies down next to me and starts humming a tune to herself. If I had it my way, I’d never leave this place.

But Laura’s voice filters into the dream. “Can I get you anything?”

My heart leaps into my throat because I become overly aware of where I am. My head isn’t against the couch. It’s resting against Margo’s shoulder. I can feel a slight bounce in her shoulder as she talks with Laura.

I know I should open my eyes, but if I do, I’ll have to move. I don’t want to. I want to drift back into my dream where Margo isn’t afraid to tell me how she feels. Where she isn’t afraid to take my hand. Where I’m not afraid to let her.

Her fingers graze my face, and for a second I wonder if I’ve fallen back to sleep, but her touch is too real. Goosebumps ripple up my arms as she brushes my bangs back.

I thought I could do it—stay perfectly still and pretend to be asleep—but as she starts to pull her hand back, I realize I can’t. I open my eyes and confirm this isn’t a dream. I reach up and wrap my hand around hers. I want so badly to get used to this feeling. She’s so close, shock coating her face, lips parting like she wants to say something.

I need to be right.

I need her to like me.

I need Margo Blakely to want me.

And this time I won’t be the first to pull away.

Margo clears her throat and shifts her weight, hand slipping out from under mine. “Your hair was in your face,” she says.

I sit up, wishing her hand was still in my hair.

Margo’s cheeks are flushed. They’re even pinker than in my dream.

“Thanks,” I say.

I wish she would come clean and tell me how she feels. She doesn’t have to be afraid of what I’ll say. Not anymore.

She shows me the phone. “I’ve made a lot of progress while you napped. I’ve been reaching out to people who were in the same graduating class as your mom.”

“Has anyone responded?” I ask.

She shakes her head with a laugh. “Still impatient as ever, I see. Someone is bound to eventually. I sent a million messages.”

We sit there for what seems like forever as Laura finishes dinner. Every few seconds Margo checks her messages, and I try my best to hold a conversation. There’s only one thing on my mind, though. I have to know.

I’m not good at starting conversations, especially not ones like this. My words will come out jumbled and thoughtless. I know they will. This is the kind of thing I’d write about in my book and leave it there. I wish I could do that now, but not knowing what Margo thinks of me is starting to eat me alive.

She doesn’t seem like she’s treating me any differently. She’s scrolling on her phone, not paying attention to me. Is she ignoring me because she doesn’t know what to say to me? Maybe she thinks I’m too much work. Even if she likes me now, she’ll change her mind. But then again, her hand was in my hair. You don’t move someone else’s hair out of their face if you don’t like them, right?

My heartbeat pounds loudly in my ears as I cough up the courage to say something. “Don’t you think it’s about time you tell me who the girl is.”

She laughs, gaze darting around the room. “I told you I have a plan.”

“But you’re so close to finding my dad. Can’t you give me a hint or something?”

She sighs, taking a good look at me.

Why does she have to drag this out? Doesn’t she know it’s obvious? I already know the answer. I just want to hear her say it directly. I need to be sure.

“I’ll think about it,” she says.

I turn away to smile. She’s going to think about it. Those words live rent-free in my mind for the rest of the night.

I thought the nightmares were bad, but I got way less sleep last night from thinking about what she said. I expected her to think for a few minutes. Maybe an hour. But all night? She still hasn’t texted me.

How am I supposed to get anything else done?

Part of me hopes she’ll come find me the second she walks into school. I even stand near her locker, but she doesn’t show.

I trudge to my science class and my fear is confirmed. Her seat is empty, and I immediately slump forward in mine. Why isn’t she here? Maybe she is, but decided not to go to her locker. No. I’ve carried that backpack. There’s no way she’d haul it around all day.

Mrs. Wilkson begins class by handing out a quiz. I scribble down my answers and rest my head as I wait for everyone else to finish. I guessed on a couple questions, but most of the answers seemed pretty obvious.

“Hello.”

My pulse short circuits, and I smile.

Margo stands in front of Mrs. Wilkson’s desk with a pink slip in her hand.

Mrs. Wilkson hands her a quiz, and Margo takes her spot next to me. She takes out a perfectly sharp number-two pencil and writes her answers down. Her handwriting is bubbly and unison.

I want to talk to her, but we aren’t allowed to speak during quizzes.

She chews her lip, tapping the pencil on the lab table before completing the next question. She takes her time. It takes her much longer than everyone else to finish, but to be fair, she came in late.

“Swap your tests,” Mrs. Wilkson says. “We’re going to go through the answers.”

I hand Margo my paper. “Where were you?”

She switches papers with me. “I had a doctor’s appointment.”

“For what?”

She shrugs. “It was just a checkup.”

“How’d it go?”

She raises a brow. “Why do you care?”

“Answer one,” Mrs. Wilkson says, stopping me from replying. I look down at Margo’s whimsical penmanship. The first answer is correct.

“So,” I whisper. “I think you should tell me who the girl is.”

“Be quiet,” she whispers back, marking the second question on my paper in red.

“Does she have brown eyes?” I ask.

“Shh,” she says.

“Does she?” I ask, leaning closer.

“Yes,” Margo says.

We move on to the next question, but my attention couldn’t be further from grading her test. “Have I met her?”

“You’re going to get us in trouble,” she whispers.

“Have I?”

“Yes.”

Mrs. Wilkson clears her throat. “Margo, Daniel, do you have something you’d like to share with the rest of class?”

“Sorry,” Margo says, sitting up straighter. Then she gives me a fiery glare.

I like it.

Mrs. Wilkson continues sharing the last few answers. Then she walks around the room gathering the papers. Margo sneaks a look at her score before Mrs. Wilkson takes it. She scored a ninety-two.

I scored eighty-five.

We both hand in the quizzes. Mrs. Wilkson smiles when she sees mine. “Good job, Daniel.”

Margo shakes her head as our teacher walks away. “How in the world did you score so high?”

I shrug. “It wasn’t hard.”

She scrunches up her nose, clearly not entertained by my reply.

“Does she go to school here?” I ask, back to my interrogation.

She clicks her tongue and tilts her head toward me. “What’s with you today?”

I shrug. “Just curious.”

Her eyes search me, trying to figure out if I have some other motive. “Yes. She does.”

“And—”

“I’m not going to play twenty questions with you. If you want to meet her, then you can.”

My heart stops, zapping back to life a moment later. “What about your plan?”

She sighs. “Plans change. But,” she leans a little closer, and waves her finger at me. “You better not mess this up. This is important to me, and this girl really likes you, okay?”

“If she likes me so much, why doesn’t she just tell me?”

“It’s complicated,” Margo says.

“Why?”

“You’ll think it’s silly.”

“I won’t.” Margo might find it hard to believe, but no matter what she says at this point, I won’t think it’s silly. I want to know why Margo won’t just come out and say it.

Margo puts her perfect pencil back into her pencil pouch and stacks it on top of her school books. “She’s a romantic. She wants to fall in love the same way she sees it in movies,” she whispers, “so pretend like you aren’t being forced into this.”

So that’s why she hasn’t told me. I haven’t exactly been the romantic type. I’ve been rude and yelled at her. Of course she wouldn’t say anything. I don’t blame her. She probably wants us to start over in a way. She wants to make up a scenario where I walk in and sweep her off her feet.

I never know what to expect with Margo, but this makes sense.

“That shouldn’t be too hard,” I say. Margo might not believe it, but she isn’t forcing me to do anything anymore.

“She works at the used bookstore downtown.”

“The one across from Riverfront Park?”

She nods. “That’s the one, and she works tonight.”

My chest tightens. “Are you telling me you want me to go there tonight?”

“Yeah,” she says. “But I want you to be on your best behavior.”

“I thought you told me to be myself.”

Margo looks down. “I want you to show her your good side. You act tough all the time, but let her see the real you.”

“I have a good side?”

She rolls her beautiful brown eyes. “Don’t act like you don’t know.”

I turn so she doesn’t see my smile. I’m not going to lie, I don’t want to go through all this. I’m impatient. I want her to tell me how she feels right now, but if she wants to live in a fantasy, I’ll play the part.

“What are you doing?” Olive asks as she walks past the bathroom.

My hair is dripping wet. I’m trying to style it, but it’s a lost cause. I don’t know how to make it do what I want. “Nothing,” I say.

Her eyes twinkle. “Do you have a date?”

“I’m just trying to do my hair.”

“Since when do you do your hair?” she teases.

“Since now,” I say, trying to close the door.

“Wait, do you want some help?” She holds her hands out, stopping the door from budging. Her jaw drops as she takes a deep breath. “Is that cologne? It’s totally a date.”

“Shut up,” I say, forcing the door closed.

She laughs as the door slams in her face. “Hey, I’m not judging.”

I stare at my messy hair in the mirror. It’s sticking out in every direction. I crack the door open. “Hey, Olive.”

She’s halfway down the hallway, but she turns back to me. “Yes?”

“Could you . . . maybe . . .”

Her face scrunches up in a smile, and she runs back. “Yes!”

She finds a stool and sets it behind me in the bathroom so she can reach the top of my head. First, she blow dries it and then she uses some of her dad’s gel to hold the hair in place. She pats my shoulder when she finishes. “There. So much better.”

“You think?”

“Margo won’t know what hit her,” she says.

“It’s not—”

“You wouldn’t try this hard for anyone else,” Olive says.

I know she’s right. There’s no point in denying it anymore. It’s obvious who I’m going to meet.

My gaze shies away. “Would you stay here for a second?”

She nods.

I race to my room and grab two of the new shirts Laura bought me. With one in each hand, I make my way back to Olive. I hold the shirts up. “Which one do you think looks better?”

She raises an eyebrow and points at herself. “You want my opinion?”

I nod, and she smiles. Then, she tilts her head and analyzes the two shirts. One is a black button down and the other one is plaid. “The black one. It fits your personality more.”

I slip it on over my undershirt and start fastening the buttons. When I reach the top, I look at Olive one more time to see her reaction. I want to make a good impression.

Olive steps closer. “You’re almost there, just—” She unbuttons the top button and then steps back again. “Perfect.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she says. She waves me on. “Go get her.”

I try not to smile, but it’s hard. I haven’t been this excited about something in a very long time. I turn to dash away, but pause, looking back. “Thanks, Olive.”

“You owe me.”

“I know,” I say. I don’t know what I expected Olive to be like when I moved in, but she’s starting to grow on me. I wouldn’t say we’re friends, but she’s alright.

I can’t stand still as I wait for the bus. My foot taps, and I fidget with my fingers. Once I’m seated on the bus, it’s not any better. If anything, it gets worse as we drive. I get off the bus a block away from the bookstore, and my heart is pumping.

I know I said I wouldn’t buy flowers, but I did. I bought her a bouquet of wildflowers. They’re all a little different, but they reminded me of her—of the version of her in my dream.

The bookstore lights shine bright, making it impossible to miss. I take a deep breath, but my chest is tight. I can’t relax no matter how hard I try. This is it. This is where Margo tells me she likes me. This is where I tell Margo I like her back, and that she doesn’t have to keep playing all these games.

I open the door and step inside. A little bell sounds above my head.

At the front of the store, off to the side, is a little desk.

My heart plummets, and I stand there frozen. My mind plays tricks on me. She’s almost Margo, but her eyes are missing the sparkle that lights up Margo’s face every time she speaks.

It’s.

Not.

Margo.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

MARGO

I was wrong. Annie was right. Despite what I originally thought, Daniel is a good guy, and I think they could be good for each other. Officially setting them up is the logical thing to do.

So why don’t I feel good about it?

My stomach is uneasy, and it’s not because I’m sick. It’s because I can’t help but think about him. The way he was so close yesterday. His head on my shoulder. His hand holding mine.

It’s not right. I shouldn’t think about him like this. He’s Annie’s.

Papa walks into the living room. “Hey, Bug. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I say, slouching more into the couch, wishing it would swallow me whole.

“Come on. I know you better than that.” He sits down next to me and pats my head. “Tell me.”

“It was a long day.” I lean into him. “I need to think about something else.”

“Want to get out of here?” he asks.

Papa is rarely home, so I feel guilty wanting to take him up on his offer.

“What about Mama?” I ask. She’s off running errands, but she doesn’t like it when we miss dinner. She thinks it’s the most important meal of the day because it’s the one we get to spend together.

“I think she can spare us for a couple of hours,” he says.

I’m not so sure. “You think?”

He nods. “Let’s go do something fun. Besides, when was the last time we did something just the two of us?”

He’s right. I’ve been so focused on Mama and Annie I almost forgot about helping Papa relax and focus on something other than work. This will be good for both of us.

As we make our way to the car, we pass Mrs. Jackman watering the roses in front of her house. She smiles and waves at us.

“How are you feeling?” I ask her.

“We’re doing well,” she says, laying a hand on her belly, which has grown since the last time I saw her. “I’m almost eight months along now. I’m a little tired, but that’s it.”

I hope I get to meet the baby. I love seeing tiny fingers and toes and the way babies fit perfectly in their mother’s arms.

“I’m happy to hear that,” I say as I open the passenger door and get in the car.

Papa turns on a podcast as we start driving, and I sink into the passenger seat, watching the sunset. I love how the colors paint the sky, and it’s never the same. Each sunset is unique, full of character, and never overstays its welcome.

Normally, I’d find a million things to talk about, but right now all I want to do is look out the window. There’s so much on my mind that I don’t know where to start. I don’t know how to explain my feelings to Papa because I don’t really understand them myself.

“Want to talk about it?” Papa asks.

“It’s nothing important,” I say, but the truth is I don’t know why I’m upset. I can’t label it. I know there’s a small pull in my gut when I think about Daniel going to see Annie. A seed of jealousy, maybe? But that’s silly. The only reason I’m spending time with him is because I have to. Right?

“Are you sure, Bug?”

“I just have a lot on my mind right now, but it’ll be okay.” I smile, trying to convince him I don’t need him to jump in and make everything better the way he did when I was younger. “Where are we going?”

A coy smirk coats his face.

“Oh, no,” I say.

“Oh, yes,” he replies.

Something most people don’t know is that my parents met at the roller rink. Then when they had us, they had us skating before we could ride a bike. We used to go to the rink all the time, but then our lives got busy and we gradually stopped going. Even though I haven’t been there in years, I know as soon as I put on the skates, muscle memory will kick in.

The place is packed tonight, but that’s how I like it. I hate it when there are only a few people because everyone can see when I mess up. Bright, colorful lights dance across the building, and loud disco music blares. We rent our skates—well, Papa rents skates, and I rent blades because I think they’re easier to balance on—and we find an empty table to sit at while we put them on.

“Think you’re still faster than me?” Papa asks.

“I guess we’ll have to find out.”

He smiles and stands. “This is one of my favorite songs. Come on, let’s go.” He holds out his hand, and I take it, letting him pull me to my feet.

“Let’s go,” I echo. As soon as I hit the floor, I speed away. “Still faster!”

He chases after me as we enter the rink. I slow down after the first turn to let him catch up. He skates ahead of me, backwards.

Show off.

I always loved watching my parents skate. It looked more like dancing than skating by the way they weaved through the crowd. I wish my mom was here, but she hasn’t been to the rink since I got sick, and she’d have a heart attack if she knew I was here now. She tries to minimize any chance of injury she can. On second thought, if she were here, she’d probably hold my hand the whole time and shoo everyone else away so no one runs into me.

I laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Papa asks.

“I missed this,” I say. I want to keep making loops around the rink, but my legs are already aching, and I’m out of breath. I don’t have the same stamina I did before. I slow down next to the wall.

Papa stops next to me. His playful expression is replaced by concern and fear. He puts a hand on my shoulder and his eyes wander over me as if he’s looking for a wound. “Are you okay?”

I take in a deep breath. I don’t want him to leave. He’s having fun. “Yeah,” I say. “I’m starting to get hungry, that’s all.”

I can tell he doesn’t completely buy my excuse because his face hasn’t lightened, but instead of pressuring me to tell him what’s really wrong, he asks, “Cheese or pepperoni?”

Without missing a beat I say, “Pepperoni.”

“Good answer.” He rubs the top of my head, messing up my hair. “I’ll order it for us. Why don’t you wait at the table?”

I nod. I hate that I have to stop, but I appreciate he isn’t making a big deal out of it. I sit down and wait, watching everyone else out in the rink having fun.

My phone buzzes. I ignore it at first, but it won’t stop. When I turn it on, there are at least five messages from Annie. She’s so excited that Daniel stopped by. Her messages keep coming in, giving me a play-by-play of the entire interaction. I glance over the messages, but I can’t bring myself to read them in their entirety.

I start typing a reply when another message comes through. A message from Daniel.

Where are you right now?

I scowl. Why would he care? Is he really so desperate to find his dad that he never expects me to take a break? I swipe his message away. I don’t want to think about him.

I can’t even bring myself to finish typing out my reply to Annie. Not yet. I will. I’m happy for her, but I need a minute.

I set my phone down and rest my head on my folded arms. It doesn’t help though. Not even a minute goes by before my phone rings. I pick it up expecting to see Annie’s caller ID, but it’s not her.

It’s Daniel. Again.

I sigh and answer it. “Hello.”

There’s a pause. He doesn’t talk right away.

“What do you want?” I ask, hoping he’ll get straight to the point because the sooner he tells me, the sooner I—

“I thought the girl was you.”

The world around me stops moving, and my heart plummets to the ground. He wanted her to be me?

I force a laugh even though I don’t find any of this funny. “Of course not.”

“You were the one making excuses to spend time with me.” Even though he’s talking, his voice is quiet, more than normal.

There’s a moment that passes where neither of us say anything. I’m not sure how to respond, and I think he’s afraid to probe any further. He’s searching for me to confess something that I can’t.

“I did that for Annie,” I finally say. But I have to be clearer. I can’t leave any room for him to wonder about my feelings. “You’re not my type.”

Another pause. “Why not?”

“What?”

“Why am I not your type?”

“Well . . . because . . .” This should be easy to answer, and yet I find myself searching for excuses. Why does it matter? Why is he making this all so confusing? “Well, you sleep during class. You haven’t done any of the homework from our assignment, and you have a temper.” Those are all perfectly good reasons. They should be enough.

“Then what is your type?”

Why is this boy so bold? So what if he thought I’d be the girl there tonight? It’s not like he likes me.

He can’t like me.

“I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it.” It’s true. I haven’t.

“Do you really expect me to believe that?”

This is exhausting me even more. Why can’t he just drop it? “I don’t care what you believe. I don’t know what I want, but I do know you aren’t it.” And yet, those words are thick on my tongue as if I don’t really want to say them.

“But a goody-two-shoes guy who does his homework is?”

Papa starts to walk back toward the table with a plate of pizza in each hand.

“I have to go,” I say.

“But we aren’t done talking—”

“I’ll see you tomorrow at school.” I hang up the phone and slide it back into my pocket just as Papa sets the pizza down on the table.

“Who was that?” he asks.

“Just someone from school.”

Papa pushes my plate toward me. “Does this someone have a name?”

I tilt my head and give him a look. “His name isn’t important.”

His eyes soften with concern. “Is he the reason you’ve been down all evening?”

It’s Papa: I can’t lie to him. Besides, maybe talking to someone about the confusing thoughts I have might help. “His name is Daniel. Annie likes him.”

“Oh,” he says, like he suddenly understands the entire situation. “How do you feel about that?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. I didn’t like it at first, but after I got to know him, I realized he wasn’t so bad.” I fidget with the plate in front of me. “I asked him to go to the bookstore tonight to meet Annie.”

Papa nods. “I see.”

“I think they could be good for each other,” I say. Maybe if I keep saying that out loud, it’ll get easier to hear.

“You know,” Papa says, taking a breath, “growing up, you two never fought.”

“We aren’t fighting—”

“You didn’t let me finish. Everyone was always shocked you two never fought. The other kids your age would fight over toys, but you guys never did. I used to think that you guys got along better than most, but then I realized you just gave Annie the toy every time.”

“Daniel isn’t a toy,” I say. “And it’s not what you’re thinking. I’m not interested in him.”

“Why not?”

My jaw falls open. He knows why it would be a terrible idea. “Because it wouldn’t be right.”

“Sometimes things aren’t as black and white as we think they are.”

“This is.” I’m not going to get any closer to Daniel. I’m going to leave enough people behind. I don’t need to add to the list.

He reaches over and pats my hand. “All I’m saying is you don’t have to give in every time.”

“Okay, Papa,” I say. “You better eat up before it gets cold.”

He starts to eat, even though I can tell he wants to say more.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

DANIEL

She doesn’t mean it. She can’t. She paused when she told me I wasn’t her type.

It’s almost midnight, but I can’t sleep. There has to be more to how she feels. So what if her sister likes me? She doesn’t really know me. Margo does. Or at least she’s starting to, and I don’t let people get to know me.

I eye my messenger bag across the room. Margo said I wasn’t her type, but what if I can be her type? I’ve been the straight A student before. I’ve been the boy who dresses nice and never talks back. I can do it again. I walk over and take out our latest assignment with her notes scribbled all over it. Then, I set it down on the desk and start figuring out the answers. This is nothing compared to what I did at my old school.

Even though it’s easy, it still takes me an hour to work through. I make sure my penmanship is legible and neat. I want Margo to see what I’m capable of—my best. I want to show her I can be good enough. I can be the boy she wants.

I force myself to go to sleep, and my brain wanders into my dreams. Into Margo’s dream where it’s peaceful and sunny.

She always pulls my hand, begging me to follow her into the field of flowers. She lies down and stares up at the sky, talking way too much, like normal, as I admire her smile.

“Daniel.”

I swear I almost hear her actual voice. It sounds real, not like I’m hearing a dream.

“Daniel, it’s time to wake up.”

I pry my eyes open.

Olive is standing at the entrance to my room. “It’s about time.”

It’s already seven thirty. I jerk up. “I’m going to be late.”

“It’s okay. Mom’s going to drive us. Just get ready,” Olive says, ducking out of the room so I can change.

I rush to put on my clothes, but pause. I open the drawer where the rest of the clothes Laura bought are. They’re nice clothes, but a little more colorful than I usually wear. They’re exactly what I need. I have to make a good impression.

I shove my homework into my messenger bag and brush my teeth before racing to the car, where Laura is waiting with a breakfast sandwich for me.

“Thanks,” I mumble as I take it from her.

“You look nice,” she says.

“Thank you,” I reply. I’m so flustered I don’t sulk at the compliment. We have to get to school before the morning bell. I can’t start today off by being late. That isn’t the message I want to send Margo. That’s the normal me. Not the improved version.

Laura smiles and pulls out of the driveway. “If you need any other clothes, just let me know.”

I stare down at the outfit. “This is good for now.”

She nods. “I’m just saying if you change your mind, don’t be scared to tell me.”

“Okay,” I say.

Laura turns on the radio and hums to the music. I stare out the window, clutching my bag close, never letting myself be too comfortable around her.

When we get to the school, I’m quick to say goodbye and jump out of the car. I barely have any time to spare. I march right into my physics class.

Margo is sitting in her spot, but it seems like we’ve switched personalities. I’m ready to take on the day, and she’s resting her head on the table. Her skin is a little pale, and her eyes are heavy, but she’s still as pretty as ever. She doesn’t have to try, she just is.

My heart flutters with nerves, and there’s a little tremor in my hands as I walk toward her.

I can be the guy she wants.

Margo sits up, and I set the papers on her desk, trying to be as obvious as possible, then sit down.

Her brow furrows. “What is this?”

“It’s my homework.” I try to stay calm and not let my nervousness show, but at the same time, I’m not trying to be discreet. I’m trying to tell Margo I like her. I want her to know.

She touches the corner of the paper. “It’s your homework,” she says, like she’s trying to convince herself it’s actually in front of her.

“It is,” I whisper.

Mrs. Wilkson begins teaching, and I take out a notebook.

“What are you doing?” Margo asks.

I take my pencil and sharpen it before writing down the date on the page. “Taking notes.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

She crosses her arms. “What happened to sleeping during class?”

I tap the pencil on the desk. “You must have me confused with someone else.”

“Margo,” our teacher says. “Do you plan on paying attention?”

“Sorry,” Margo says, sitting up straight.

Mrs. Wilkson continues talking, and I keep taking notes.

Margo’s eyes narrow, and her stare burns into me the whole time. I don’t know if this is helping my case, but one thing is for sure—I have her attention, and I like having it.

Not used to writing so much, my hand starts to cramp, but I power through until the end of the lecture. I close my notebook and set it in my bag.

Margo’s jaw clenches down. I don’t know if she’s trying to look mad, but she looks like a pouting puppy. “I don’t like this,” she says.

“What?”

She rolls her eyes, twisting in her seat to face me. She gestures to me. “Whatever you’re doing. You’re not acting like yourself. You never do your homework. Why now?”

I bite at my smile before leaning in. I get close enough to whisper in her ear. “You like guys who do their homework.”

Her jaw drops as the bell rings.

I stand up and walk into the hallway, a smile breaking across my face. I melt into the crowd of seniors heading to their next class.

“Hold up,” she says, running out of class. She chases after me and tugs on my arm.

I turn to face her. “Yes?”

She puts her hand on her hip. Her brown eyes are giant. I want to lose myself in them. “Are you flirting with me?” she asks.

I raise an eyebrow and stare down at her. “I thought that was obvious.”

Margo’s cheeks burn, and she pushes me. “You can’t do that.”

I laugh. I’ve never seen Margo act out. I stand my ground. “I’m pretty sure I can flirt with whoever I want.”

She pulls at her hair, turning away. “No, you can’t.” She turns back to me. “You can’t like me. Annie is the one who likes you. Not me.”

“But I like you.”

Margo’s breath catches, and she staggers back. “No. You can’t.”

My heart races, and the hair on the back of my neck stands. Why can’t she accept my feelings? “I can be a better person. I can be the person you want to be with.”

She shakes her head, and I don’t know if I’m imagining it, but I swear her eyes start to water. “You shouldn’t have to change your entire personality to be with someone. You don’t have to change to be with Annie. She likes you the way you are.”

“And you don’t. Is that it?”

“No, I—” She huffs, eyes darting. “I like you the way you are. I wouldn’t want you around Annie if I didn’t . . . I just don’t like you the way Annie does.”

“So you like me, but won’t do anything about it because of your sister?” It makes sense now. While I admire her for being loyal, at the moment it’s incredibly frustrating.

“That’s not true. It’s complicated.”

“Oh, so you do? You just admitted it.”

She scowls, and her hands clench at her sides. “You are so infuriating! I didn’t admit anything. If you spent more time with Annie, you’d see how great she is. Go flirt with her.”

“You’d really be fine with that?” I know I’m right. Margo likes me but is afraid to say anything because she doesn’t want to hurt Annie.

“Of course,” she says, but her eyes falter.

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true! I want you to get to know her!” She must think if she says it louder, it’ll be more convincing, but I can see through her lies.

I give Margo space the rest of the morning, but that only makes me more agitated. How could she honestly say that she’d be okay with me flirting with Annie? I don’t want to do that. I want Margo to tell me how she feels, but she’s never done what I want. Why would she start now?

When I walk into the cafeteria at lunch, I spot Margo sitting by herself, and I find myself gravitating toward her.

“Hey,” I say, sitting across from her.

“Hi,” she replies, stirring her mashed potatoes around her tray. “So you sit with people at lunch now too?”

“No, but I’ll sit with you.”

She sighs. “Look, Daniel. I think you’re a great guy, but that doesn’t mean I’m interested in you.” She takes a bite and looks away.

“Then why can’t you look me in the eye when you say it?” I know how Margo acts when she believes something. She’s confident. Determined. Unmovable. If she meant what she’s saying, she should be saying it with her head held high.

She looks up, and the smile I’ve grown so used to seeing is gone. It’s replaced by a scowl. “You think you’re so smart, that you have me all figured out, don’t you? But you don’t really know me, or what my life is like.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” It’s true, I don’t know what her life is like, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know who she is.

She sighs. “Just forget it.”

“No, tell me,” I say.

Annie sets down her tray next to Margo, face turning pink. “Hi, Daniel.”

“Hey,” I say, heart sinking because I know Margo isn’t going to keep talking to me about this with her sister here.

Margo starts to gather her things.

“Where are you going?” Annie asks.

“I forgot I need to print something off in the computer lab before my next class. Could you keep Daniel company?”

My jaw locks, and I rub the back of my neck to keep myself from saying what’s on my mind.

“Sure,” Annie says.

Margo rushes off, leaving the two of us awkwardly staring at our lunches. This isn’t the same as sitting with Margo. This silence isn’t peaceful. It’s loud and abrasive. This won’t do.

Annie clears her throat after a minute. “Did you start reading the book you bought yesterday—”

“I like Margo.”

I didn’t mean for it to slip out the way it did, but I can’t do this. I can’t pretend to like Annie when I don’t. It’s not fair to her. She looks like a nice girl who doesn’t deserve to have her heart strung along.

Annie swallows whatever she was about to say before I interrupted her. “Oh.” She shifts, picking up her fork and setting it back down. “Yeah, Margo is— Uh, that makes sense. Of course you like Margo.”

“I’m sorry, Annie.”

“Don’t be.” She stands up. “I just need to— I have to go.” She leaves almost as fast as Margo, but she leaves her tray of food behind.

I groan. What did I do? She’s probably running off to find Margo, and Margo is never going to talk to me again after this. I smack the table and dash out of the cafeteria. I have to explain to Margo why I did it.

I expect to see Annie on the way, but the hallway is empty. I run straight into the computer lab. The only person inside is Margo, seated at the front of the room. I trudge toward her. “Where’s Annie?”

Margo spins around. “What do you mean? I left you two alone to talk.”

I should bite my tongue, but I’d rather have Margo hear it from me than Annie. “I told her.”

She narrows her eyes, which I’ve noticed seems to be becoming her normal response to me lately. “You did what?”

My gaze shies away and heat rises to my face. “I told her I liked you.”

“You fool!” she says, jumping up, hitting my arm. “Why would you do that?”

“Because it’s the truth, Margo!” My gaze focuses back on her as my chest heaves.

Her face turns bright red, and her hands are balled up into fists at her sides. “Well, you can’t like me! I already told you that!”

I shake my head. “Give me a good reason why I can’t. And don’t tell me it’s complicated. Don’t tell me it’s because of Annie. Am I not good enough for you? Is that it? Do I embarrass you? Do I not fit the perfect picture you have for yourself in your head?”

Tears prick at the corners of her eyes, and she takes a deep breath. “It’s not like that.”

“Then why can’t I like you!” Why does everyone I care about push me away? I don’t understand why I’m so hard to love.

She opens her mouth to speak, but she doesn’t say anything right away. Then, she whispers, “Because I’m dying.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

MARGO

His brow pinches together, and he staggers back slightly. “This isn’t the time for a sick joke like that.”

I look him straight in the eyes so he can see how honest I am. “I’m not making it up. It’s not a joke.”

He shakes his head. “No. You’re lying. You would’ve told me. That’s not the kind of thing people keep a secret.” His pupils dilate like they’re swallowing the entire world.

I lower my head. “I haven’t even told Annie.”

He wipes his face with the back of his hand, and his eyes glaze over. “It’s not true. You don’t look sick.”

That’s the whole point. I try so hard not to look sick. I push through the pain, the nausea, the fatigue. “I am. I’m going to die.”

He backs up, looking at me like I just stabbed him. “No.”

“I have stage four Leukemia.” I reach for him, trying to offer some sort of comfort. “I’m sorry.”

“No.” He flinches away. “It’s not true.”

“It is. I had it three years ago and it came back, but this time it’s worse.”

He shakes his head then turns to leave, but only makes it one step before he pivots, facing me again. “You don’t get to die!”

My heart races, and I dig my heels into the ground. How dare he say that, making it sound like I have a say in any of this? “I don’t get to choose!”

There’s a moment where we stare at each other, nothing but the silence screaming between us as I wait for him to dare challenge me again, for him to act like I can magically take back my diagnosis.

My chest burns as my boiling blood surges through my body.

His wet eyes roam over me, but I can’t read his thoughts. I can’t tell if he believes me or not.

I wait for him to say something else. To ask me questions, but all he does is slowly back away and leave the room without saying another word.

As soon as he’s out of the door, my face crumbles and I sit, burying my head in my arms. I never meant for this to get so out of hand. Annie is never going to forgive me.

And now, my secret is out.

Annie is gone. She left school, and she isn’t answering my messages or calls. I can’t focus during my next class. I haven’t seen Daniel either. My thoughts are torn between the two of them.

Right before my last class, I get ahold of Mama who lets me know Annie came home early from school with a “headache,” and she’ll be picking me up instead.

I wish the day was over already because I know this is only the beginning. I still have to face Annie. There’s no getting around it, and I’m not ready.

Mama’s car is in line out front, and I climb into it. The first thing she does is reach over and check the temperature on my forehead.

“Hello to you too,” I say.

She pulls her hand back. “Sorry. You look like you don’t feel well. I’m worried you and Annie are getting sick.”

I shrug. “I’m okay.”

“Annie went straight to bed when she got home,” she says, waiting for her turn to leave the parking lot. “I tried to bring her something to eat, but the door was locked. You girls know I hate it when you lock the door.”

I rest my head back and close my eyes. “I’ll talk to her.” I’ll figure out how to make this all better. That’s what I do, right? I fix things. I don’t make them worse.

“Did something happen at school? Did she find out—”

“No. She doesn’t know yet.” I don’t want to tell Mama what happened. It would only make her worry, and that wouldn’t help the situation. “School was fine.” I need to switch the conversation, steer it in another direction far away from me and Annie. “Have you called the hospital?”

She quiets down right away. “I haven’t had time.”

“You’ve had plenty of time.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Come on,” I say, peering over at her. “You’ve been baking so much that you’re sharing with the neighbors.” This week alone she’s taken brownies and cookies to the Jackman kids.

“And they like it.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You said you’d think about going back.”

“I know,” she says, tightening her grip on the steering wheel. “But I’m not ready yet. I don’t want to do anything that’ll distract me right now.”

I need to figure out a way to remind her how much she loved it. I’m worried that if she doesn’t have anything else to fixate on, she’ll get depressed after I die. She needs to remember who she was before my illness. I know that’s the only way she’ll be able to move on.

I don’t argue with her, but I start scheming. Maybe I can trick her into going to the labor and delivery wing at the hospital. That wouldn’t be too hard, would it? I know when she sees those little babies, she won’t be able to deny the urge to go back.

It’s not long before we’re pulling into the driveway. I head inside right away, hoping if I go straight to Annie, it’ll be like ripping off a Band-Aid. Still, I inch down the hallway, dreading the disappointment and sadness I’ll see in Annie’s face.

The door is still locked, but our lock is a joke. It can be turned with a butter knife or fingernail. I unlock it, and step inside the dark room. Annie is in bed with the covers wrapped around her tightly. Her long hair is wild, scattering over the pillow.

“Annie?”

There’s no response, but I know she isn’t asleep. Annie is a windmill when she sleeps. She wouldn’t still be under the covers. She’d be hanging halfway over the side of the bed.

I sit on the corner of her bed. “Annie, I’m sorry.”

“You knew?” she whispers.

“Yes, but I didn’t know this would happen.”

She rolls over and glares at me with puffy eyes. “Of course this would happen. Everyone always likes you more than me. Why would this be any different?”

“Annie, that’s not true. I told him if he got to know you, he’d realize how great you are.”

Her eyes widen, and her bottom lip wobbles. “You told him I liked him? How could you do that? I specifically told you not to get involved. Don’t you listen to what I say?”

I fidget with my hands, not knowing what else to do with them. “I was just trying to help.”

Her face lightens a shade. “What exactly did you do?”

“All I did was ask him to meet you at the bookstore.”

Her jaw drops, and a tear cascades down her cheek. “I can’t believe you did that to me! Can’t you see how humiliating this is? You let me gush about him for hours when you knew the truth!”

“I swear, I didn’t know then.”

Annie pushes the covers off herself and stands up. “You really expect me to believe that?”

“It’s true. I just found out today. To be honest, I didn’t think he was good enough for you at first, but after I got to know him, I realized I was wrong. I wanted you two to end up together—”

“You always think you know what’s best for everyone else, but you don’t! You had no right to get involved.” She shakes her head, tears pouring now. “You just couldn’t help yourself. You always have to be the puppet master, but I’m not your puppet!”

My head pounds, and my stomach turns. “That’s not true! I did this for you. I always let you have your way.”

“Really? Because I wanted you to stay out of this, but you didn’t! Daniel likes you—perfect Margo. How am I supposed to compete with that?”

“You don’t have to!” Tears are flooding my eyes too. I don’t want to fight with Annie. This isn’t how I want her to remember us. “I already told Daniel we can’t be together.”

Her breath catches, and her head tilts. “Can’t? That makes it sound like you want to be with him, but I’m stopping you.”

“That’s not what I meant!”

“Really? So you don’t like him?”

My heartbeat pounds in my ears. Why is this question so hard to answer? It’s supposed to slip out easy and absolute, not be forced. “Of course not.”

She looks away, blinking as she shakes her head. “You never used to lie to me, Margo, but now it’s all you do.”

“Annie, I didn’t—”

“You what? You didn’t think about how I’d feel?” She bites her lip to stop it from wobbling.

All of my energy has been zapped out of me. I said I didn’t want to make this worse and somehow I did. “I’m sorry.”

She waves me off and pushes past me out of the room.

Sobs bubble out of me, and I hug my knees close. I have to fix this. I have to make it up to her, but I don’t know how. Guilt creeps into my head when I think about the other secret I’m keeping from her. I have to tell her soon, but this is not the right time.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I take it out and shake my head. It’s Daniel, of all people. How am I supposed to answer his call right now? I can’t, not after the fight with Annie. I can only imagine how she’d react if she heard me talking to him.

I set the phone down and bury my head under Annie’s pillow.

There’s only one solution I can think of to help the situation: I have to stay away from Daniel.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

DANIEL

I slam the front door and kick my shoes off. My lungs constrict to the point I can’t breathe no matter how hard I try. I gasp for air as hot tears fall to the floor.

I try to get my coat off, to hang it up, but it gets tangled on my arms.

“Daniel, what’s wrong?” Olive asks, appearing out of nowhere. She tries to help me with my coat.

I jerk away from her. “Don’t touch me!” I rip the coat off and throw it down before marching away.

“Daniel, wait. Tell me what’s going on.”

I close my bedroom door, locking it before leaning against it with my full weight. I sink to the ground, not even having enough energy to make it to my bed.

It’s not fair. It’s not right.

My mind is filled with her big brown eyes, the ones I hated so much at first, but now I can’t help but want them. I want her to be a liar. I want this to be a nightmare that’ll be over when I wake up.

Margo is the first person who’s ever made me feel seen. She’s the first person I’ve ever met who made me think my life could be better. That I could find someone to make the pain hurt less.

But this hurts more.

Olive knocks at the door. “Daniel?”

I stare at the wall, ignoring her. Eventually, she’ll get tired and leave me alone.

My mind is numb.

My lungs are raw.

My heart is gutted.

Part of me wanted her to run after me when I left her in that room, but she didn’t. Would it have made a difference? It’s not like it would’ve changed anything. I probably would’ve pushed her away. I would’ve run faster, thinking I’d stop myself from getting hurt any more than I already was.

There’s a fire full of anger building inside me. How could she do this to me? How could she come into my life the way she did and not tell me she was sick?

I wipe my face and dial her number, ready to yell at her and demand an explanation, knowing full well she won’t have one.

The phone rings and rings.

I bite my cheek to try and stop myself from crying on the phone. I want her to know how much she hurt me. That right now I hate her.

She doesn’t answer.

I let the phone slip out of my hands, knowing this is a taste of how it’ll feel when she’s really gone, and it rattles against the floor.

This time, she didn’t answer, but one day she won’t be able to answer.

Margo pulls me into the field of wildflowers like she’s done so many times before, but this time the sky turns black, and her hand slips out of mine. There’s a dark poison that seeps into the world, wrapping around Margo and dragging her away from me. I reach for her, but the dark poison grabs on to my arms and legs, keeping me from getting any closer. The distance grows, and I’m forced to watch her disappear into thin air.

I jerk awake, sweat running down my face, and I’m breathless.

It’s early. My alarm hasn’t gone off. I lie back down, gasping for air. I’m afraid to close my eyes because I’m scared I’ll be thrown back into the nightmare.

I check my phone to see if she’s replied to any of my messages, but they aren’t even marked as read.

I kick off the covers and change into my clothes for the day. If she won’t text me back, then the next best option is to go to school, hoping she shows up. I grab my bag and leave my room. I almost kick over a covered plate of food that’s sitting on the ground beside the door. It must’ve been dinner from last night. I pick it up, knowing better than to eat it now, and carry it to the kitchen. I set it down on the counter.

The house is still dark. I’m not sure if everyone is asleep or if Laura is out for a run, but either way, I slip out unnoticed. I catch an early bus and wait in the cafeteria because there are only a handful of other students who’d bother to come this early. The school is practically vacant. I’d go to the library, but I’m afraid of running into Annie.

I rest my head on the table, hiding away from anyone who might try and talk to me. I doze off briefly, waking up to the room buzzing with students all around me. Most of them are eating breakfast, chatting with their friends, and completely oblivious to how my world is crashing down.

She should be here by now.

I stand and walk to the hallway. I walk through a cloud of freshmen and continue to the senior wing of the school. I spot Margo at her locker. She isn’t dressed in her usual bubbly outfit. She’s wearing a hoodie, and the only pop of color is her bright backpack.

I lean against the locker next to hers. “You don’t get to tell me you’re dying and then ignore me.”

She exhales slowly as she puts a book on the top shelf. “Lower your voice.” Her eyes are just as puffy as mine. Her face is pale, and her nose is red.

“Are you going to talk to me?” I ask.

She shuts the locker. “What’s there to talk about? You know the truth. Talking about it isn’t going to change anything.”

She starts walking and I follow her.

“That doesn’t mean you have to give me the cold shoulder. You’re treating me like I did something wrong.”

Margo skids to a stop and spins on her heels. “Because you did. Annie hates me right now.” I didn’t know it was possible to have someone yell at you with a hushed voice, but she is. “She won’t talk to me. She won’t look at me. She even slept on the couch last night because of what you told her. I haven’t seen her all morning!”

This isn’t fair. I shouldn’t be blamed for telling the truth. “I was trying to be honest. I didn’t want her to get her hopes up. You were trying to force me to like her, and she’s not my type.”

“Oh, really? And what is?” Margo’s eyebrows shoot up. “A dying girl?”

No. That’s not what I want. That’s scary. That’s a commitment with a sure end. I know I can’t do that, but I also hate the idea of Margo walking away and ignoring me again. I want to tell her all of the emotions running through me, but the words get caught in my throat, and instead, I say nothing.

“That’s what I thought,” she says, turning away. “I need some space. I need to fix things with Annie, and I can’t do that with you around.” She brushes past me.

A shiver runs down my spine as our distance grows, sending me on edge. My fist curls at my side, and I take in a deep breath. “Don’t walk away from me, Margo!”

She keeps walking, my words having no power.

My chest heaves as my mind grasps at straws. “You owe me!”

She stops in the middle of the hallway.

For a second neither one of us moves. We’re both stubborn, holding our ground. But I’m impatient and march up to her. With my hand on her shoulder, I turn her to face me.

She keeps her eyes focused ahead as if she can’t see me at all.

“You promised you’d find my father,” I say. “I already did what you asked me to do. You can’t just back out because things didn’t go the way you planned.”

“Fine,” she says, pushing my hand off her. “Leave me alone, and I’ll find him.”

My head is pounding so loud I almost can’t hear myself speak. “No, that wasn’t our deal.”

“It is now.”

How come she always gets to call the shots? Don’t I get a say? “No, I’m not agreeing to that.”

She shakes her head, tears ready to fall again. “I’ll let you know when I find him.”

Margo never took no for an answer, so why should I?

She steps forward.

I follow.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

MARGO

I argued with Mama all morning, so I don't have the energy to fight with Daniel too. Annie refused to talk to me and left for school before I got up. Mama insists that everything is getting out of hand, and she's given me an ultimatum: if I don't tell Annie soon, she will.

I hold my head up high and walk into my first period class with Daniel trailing right behind me, trying to ignore the fact that I’m about to sit right beside him.

I pull my chair out and sit, eyes forward.

Daniel sits next to me and leans over so close his breath grazes my ear as he whispers, “Did you really think it would be that easy to get rid of me?”

Goosebumps flood my arms. My mind wanders back to the night he fell asleep on my shoulder—to when he grabbed my hand in his hair.

I liked it.

But it isn’t right. I shake away the thought and choose not to reply. I take out my notebook and science binder. He might be my lab partner, but I don’t have to talk to him about anything other than science. Once this hour is up, I can move on to my next class. It’ll be easier because he doesn’t sit next to me in it.

Thankfully, Mrs. Wilkson takes up the entire class with a presentation on magnetic fields. She rushes to finish the last slide before the bell cuts her off. “Please finish reading chapter twelve tonight. There will be a quiz on it tomorrow,” she says as students leave.

Daniel is usually one of the first to leave, but he stays seated, eyes focused on me. I hike my backpack over my shoulder, pretending not to notice, and stand. As soon as I walk away, he pushes his chair out and starts walking behind me, again.

I don’t bother stopping at my locker this time. I head straight to my next class, walking down the rows of desks to my usual spot. The seats around me are already filled, but Daniel walks past me, stopping at the desk right behind mine.

“This is my spot today,” Daniel says.

My jaw drops, and I spin around.

Jared is already scrambling to get up.

“You don’t have to move,” I say.

Jared takes one look at Daniel and his tall, rough appearance and cringes. “I don’t mind.” He scrambles away to find another desk.

Daniel sits down. He smirks, crossing his arms proudly.

I glare back. “Was that necessary?”

Daniel shrugs.

With a huff, I face the front again. He’s acting immature, and I’m not about to stoop to his level.

Daniel leans forward. “In case you forgot, we have three classes together.”

I grab the bottom of my seat, biting my lip. He’ll get tired of this. There’s no way he’ll be able to keep this up very long. I just have to wait it out.

My phone buzzes, and I keep it low and out of view of our teacher.

Mama:

Have you seen Annie? The school called. She didn’t show up to her first class, but her phone location shows she’s at school.

I haven’t seen her, but I’ll try to find her.

What is she up to? She never skips her classes.

For the rest of the day, Daniel tails me like a shadow. When I go to the bathroom, he waits outside. When I have classes without him, he meets me in the hallway directly after. At lunch, he sits at the other end of the table.

How am I supposed to talk to Annie with him next to me at every turn? Even so, I keep my eye out for her. I watch her locker and check the library again, but she isn’t anywhere.

After lunch I stop by my locker to switch out my books, but I pause right before I close it. A shiny black screen at the bottom of my bag catches my eye. I double-check to make sure my phone is in my pocket. It is. I set the bag on the ground, open it wide, reach in, and pull out Annie’s phone. There’s no sound coming from it, but the screen lights up with a call from Mama.

My heart sinks.

I have no idea where Annie is, but she’s definitely not at school.

I answer the phone. “Hello.”

“Annie? Why haven’t you been answering my calls?”

“It’s Margo.”

“Margo?” Mama’s voice is high pitched and squeaky like she’s been crying. “Where’s Annie?”

I tuck the phone between my shoulder and ear to free up my hands enough to put my backpack back together. “She must’ve put her phone in my backpack before she left this morning. She’s not here.”

“Okay, I’m going to call your father and the bookstore. I’ll let you know what I find out.” She’s trying to mask the nervousness in her voice, but it comes through as clear as day.

“I’m sure she’ll show up soon. It’s Annie. She never gets into trouble.”

“You’re right. Everything is probably fine.”

I can’t pay attention through my final two classes. It’s my fault. Annie wouldn’t have run away if I didn’t hurt her. We would’ve driven together, singing our hearts out on the way to school. She would’ve sat next me at lunch, not Daniel.

Mama calls me after school gets out. “She used her card at a coffee shop downtown. We’re going to go get her. Do you think you can find a ride home?”

I’m relieved they found her, but I dread how she’ll act when she gets back to the house. “Yeah, I’ll figure something out.”

I sit outside the school with my back against the brick wall while I wait for Cameryn to finish cheer practice. I take out my journal and lay it on my lap. I need to brainstorm how to make this mess up to Annie. I need to come up with something epic, a grand gesture, but my mind is blank. I already have the concert coming up. Maybe I could get her something for it? Or maybe we could buy the outfit she wanted?

Daniel comes out of the school entrance. I figured he’d go catch the bus, but he sits next to me a few feet away.

I sigh, setting my pen down, irritated by how unrelenting he’s become. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

He leans his head back and tilts it toward me, letting his tired eyes meet mine. “Can’t I miss you?”

My heart races. But it isn’t right, so I dig my nails into my palms, trying to force the feeling away. “No. You can’t.”

I write down some of my ideas below the checklist I already have for my family. Maybe I could buy her a special edition of one of her favorite books. That would be expensive, and it would take awhile to get here. Still, it’s a good enough idea to make it onto the page.

“What are you writing?” Daniel asks.

I lean away from him, covering my words with my hand. My list isn’t the kind of thing he’d understand.

He plucks the notebook out of my grasp.

“Hey!” I reach for it.

He jumps up, holding it in the air as he glances at it.

I spring to my feet, trying desperately to take the notebook back, but he’s too tall.

He turns the page. Then his brows dips together, and he peers over at me. “This is the weirdest bucket-list crap I’ve ever seen.”

The book lowers enough for me to snatch it back and stuff it into my bag. “No, it isn’t.” I zip the backpack, preventing him from making another attempt to steal it.

His eyes follow my bag. “There isn’t one thing on that list for you.”

“Of course there is,” I say, crossing my arms.

He shakes his head, pointing to it. “No, everything on that list is for other people.”

I sling my backpack over my shoulder. “So?”

He steps closer. “So? Shouldn’t you do some of the things you want to do?”

He doesn’t understand.

I try to walk past him. “I have to make sure everyone else is okay when I leave them—”

“That’s ridiculous,” he says, blocking me.

I brush past him. “No, it isn’t.”

His hand circles around my wrist, pulling me back. “They won’t be okay, Margo. No matter what you do, no one is going to be okay!”

“I have to try!” My voice cracks, pulse skyrocketing.

He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing. His stare is dark and angry. “Well, maybe you should try to live for yourself too,” he whispers.

I’m about to argue and tell him all the reasons he’s wrong, how I am living for myself, but Cameryn comes out of the entrance of the school. She smiles at me, waving. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” I say, leaving Daniel behind.

He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

I don’t say much on the drive back home. Despite how much I disagree, I can’t get his words out of my head. Would it be so hard to add myself to the list?

Once we reach my house, I thank her for the drive and walk inside. Both cars are home already, which means my parents went and found Annie.

Mama is in the kitchen cooking. Her apron is tied around her waist too tightly, which she tends to do when she’s upset. The counter is covered in everything from peppers to sugar to ground meat. I have no idea what she plans on making, but she has to put her nervous energy somewhere.

“We grounded Annie,” she says.

“Is she okay?” I ask, setting my backpack down.

“She’s pretty upset.” Mom’s expression changes, shying away from me. “We told her that she can’t go to the concert.”

“Mom!” I was banking on the concert as a way to bond with Annie again. “Can’t you ground her another way?”

Mama sets down the rag she’s using to wipe down the counter. “How? If I grounded her to her room, she’d thank me. If we tell her she can’t see her friends, she’d tell us she doesn’t have any. She needs to know that skipping school and being unreachable is unacceptable.”

I understand why my parents did it, but my heart aches for Annie. She wanted to go to the concert so bad. It’s all she could talk about for the last week. She kept showing me ideas for outfits.

I need to go talk to her. I need to apologize, get on my hands and knees if I have to. I don’t care if she yells at me. I deserve it. I can handle it.

The room is dark, and Annie is going through her dresser drawers. She pulls out every piece of clothing that is mine and leaves it in a heap on the floor.

“What are you doing?” I ask, not getting too close.

She shuts the drawer and heads to her bed. She takes the stuffed animal I bought her last year and tosses it onto the pile of clothes.

I gather the pile in my arms. “I thought you liked the teddy bear.”

“Well, I don’t anymore,” she mumbles. Next, she moves to her side of the closet and purges it of any of my dresses. She hangs them on my side and pushes the clothes far apart, leaving a large vacant gap in between them as if she’s creating an invisible line I’m not allowed to cross.

“Annie, don’t do this,” I say. My heart is ripping from the way she’s trying to get rid of me. I step closer and put my hand on her arm. “I’m sorry. Can we talk about it?”

She spins around with her jaw clenched and bags under her eyes from crying. “No, Margo. I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

“Please just let me explain,” I plead. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“Fine, Margo. Explain. Tell me why I shouldn’t be mad,” she says, but I don’t think she means it. “Tell me why you got involved when I specifically asked you not to.”

“I didn’t think this would happen—”

“Because you didn’t think about how I would feel! You never have.”

“That’s not true!” The fact that she’s implying I don’t care is infuriating. I always think about what she wants. I’m constantly trying to make her happy.

“Yes it is! You’re always pushing me to do things I don’t want to do because you think you know best.”

“Like what?”

“You’re always trying to get me to go shopping or bowling or to wherever your friends are going!” Her face is bright red, and her words are beginning to run into each other from how fast she’s speaking.

“That’s because you’re always complaining about not having friends, and I don’t want you to feel left out! How are you going to make friends if you never do anything? And I never force you to spend time with them. I even ditch plans to hang out with you all the time because you refuse to go anywhere!”

Her jaw falls. “Well, go spend time with them. Nothing’s stopping you! You don’t have to ditch them to spend time with your pathetic, lonely sister!” She tries to pass me and leave the room.

I stand in the way. “Annie,” I say, lowering my voice and trying to stop my temper from bubbling up again. “That’s not what I meant. I’m just worried about you. I want to protect you. I want you to be happy, and sometimes I make mistakes. I’m sorry.”

She looks me in the eye, full attention. “If you’re so sorry, then why’d you do it? Why did you get close to Daniel?”

My heart pounds because I know it’s time to tell her the complete truth. “You told me you liked Daniel, and I was afraid he’d end up hurting you. I didn’t think he was a good guy, but now—”

Annie waves her hands in front of her face as her eyes water. “You know what, I don’t want to hear this. He didn’t hurt me. You did.” She makes a move toward the door.

“Wait, Annie,” I say, trying to tug her hand off the handle. “Please, I need to tell you—”

“Just stop!” Annie yells.

My hand falls from hers.

She stares at the door, waiting a mere moment before she opens it. “I’m not some little kid who can’t take care of herself,” she says. “So leave me alone.” She leaves, pulling the door shut behind her.

“I need to tell you I’m dying,” I whisper too late.

I trudge over to my desk and bury my head in my arms. This isn’t the way I wanted the conversation to go. My eyes sting and I wipe them on my sleeve. I don’t have time to be upset. I need a plan. I take out my notebook. I cross out the ideas having to do with the concert.

I need another way to make this up to her, but I don’t want to “push” her to do something she doesn’t want to do because that’ll only upset her more. My pen taps against the paper, leaving little dots where I should be listing ideas.

Tears start to fall onto the page, and I bite my cheek. At this rate, I’ll be here all night before I come up with a plan.

My eyes travel up and look at all the names I have listed. I can’t help but think about what Daniel said. “There isn’t one thing on that list for you.”

He doesn’t know what he’s talking about . . . but would it be so bad to add my name to the list? I scribble it down quickly before I can change my mind. Partially, because I want to prove him wrong. He made it seem like I was incapable of putting my name down, and I did. Now, what he said has no value.

It shouldn’t be that hard to write down something next to my name. To write down one thing I want to do before I die, and yet, my mind goes blank. Every idea that pops into my mind is for someone else. All my ideas revolve around making my family happy. These last few years, I’ve accepted that their happiness is more important than mine because they have their whole lives ahead of them. I don’t.

My head hurts, and I slam the notebook shut. I don’t want to think about this anymore. I take out my phone and look at my socials to try and get my mind off Annie and my list, but I notice a red notification in the corner of my messages.

One of the people I messaged about Meghan replied.

The sun shines brightly through my window as I get ready for school. Annie still isn’t sleeping in our room. She’s practically camping in the living room. She has a stack of her clothes in the easy chair, and two blankets lie across the couch next to her pillow. Each morning she folds the blankets and sets them next to the pile of her clothes so that the couch is usable during the day per Mama’s request.

After I slip into my favorite polka-dotted blouse, the one with the puffy sleeves, I head to the kitchen and give Mama a hug. She’s in the process of making eggs and sausage for breakfast.

“Hey, baby. How are you this morning?” she asks, kissing the top of my head.

“Great,” I say, smiling big.

She hands me two plates of food, and nods toward Annie, who’s sitting at the dining table working on homework. “Go talk to her,” she whispers.

I walk to the table and set Annie’s plate in front of her. “Here’s your breakfast.”

She doesn’t look up. Her eyes are focused on her math problem.

I sit next to her, but she pretends not to notice. She’s giving me such a cold shoulder I almost believe she doesn’t know I’m here.

She sighs, standing. “I have to go to school early today,” she announces, not making eye contact with me.

I want to grab her hand and stop her from leaving, but I don’t know how. My head hurts from all this fighting.

Mama comes and wraps me in a hug. “You need to tell her.”

I nod. “I know.”

Mama scowls and immediately starts inspecting my arm. “What happened to you?”

There’s a massive bruise on my forearm. It doesn’t take much pressure to leave a mark. “It’s fine. It doesn’t hurt.”

She looks for more bruises, inspecting me like I’m her patient. “Maybe you should stay home from school. You’ve been so busy lately. I think school might be too much for you today.”

I shake my head. “Annie will be there, so I need to be there too.”

Judging by the look on Mama’s face, she wants to protest. But at the same time she knows how badly I need to talk to Annie. She nods. “Okay, I’ll drive you.”

I sling my backpack on my shoulder, staggering from the weight, and put my shoes on.

“You still need to eat breakfast.”

“I’m not hungry anymore.” I lost my appetite the second Annie walked out the door.

Mama’s face falls, clearly upset that no one ate the breakfast she worked hard to make.

I hate seeing her disappointed, so even though I don’t want to, I head back to the table. I sit down and force-feed myself the eggs and sausage, then I help Mama with the dishes before we walk out to the car.

Mrs. Jackman is out watering her flowers again, but this time she has her hand on her back. Her brow is furrowed as she takes in a deep breath.

“Is everything okay, Nancy?” Mama asks.

“Don’t mind me. I just have a hard time moving around anymore,” she says, wobbling back.

Mama watches her intently, not wanting to get in the car. I can tell the nursing brain is in high gear.

Mrs. Jackman slips and almost falls back, but catches herself on the side of the house. Mama and I both rush to her side. I take the watering can while Mama loops her arm around Mrs. Jackman’s arm, steading her. “Let’s help you get inside.”

“I’m okay, really. You don’t need to worry about me. I just stepped wrong.”

Mama raises an eyebrow. “Nancy, I’ve known you for years. Don’t tell me you’re fine if you’re not.”

Mrs. Jackman sighs. “I’m a little tired.”

“Okay, so let’s go sit down. I’ll get you some water.”

I run over to the door and open it while Mama helps Mrs. Jackman inside. A couple of her kids are sitting at the kitchen table eating while one of the toddlers is dancing to a song in the living room. I have no idea where the others are. There are five kids total, not including the baby Mrs. Jackman is carrying, and I can’t keep track of them. It took me a while to memorize their names, but I still mix them up because they all have bright blond, almost white, hair and blue eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Maria, the oldest, says.

“I just need to sit down. Nothing’s wrong,” Mrs. Jackman replies.

Maria doesn’t seem convinced and follows us into the living room. She’s only eleven, but she acts way older. She’s always helping her mom with the other kids.

Mama helps Mrs. Jackman down onto the couch. She fluffs a pillow and sets it behind her back. “When’s your next checkup?”

“I have one tomorrow,” Mrs. Jackman says.

Mama nods and checks her pulse. “Okay, that’s not too far away, but I think it would be a good idea to take it easy the rest of the day.”

Mrs. Jackman laughs. “I wish I could, but there’s so much to do. I have to get the kids out the door for school and there’s dishes and dinner later.” Then she grimaces and touches her stomach. “Don’t worry. It’s just Braxton Hicks.”

Mama turns to Maria. “Could you bring me a glass of water for your mom please?”

Maria nods and runs off.

I find myself with a little blue-eyed toddler wrapped around my leg. I stroke his blond hair out of his eyes. “Hello.”

Mama continues to fuss over Mrs. Jackman. She checks to make sure her ankles aren’t swollen and has her drink some water. “I have to drop Margo off at school, but I’m going to come back and help you for the day. You need the rest.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll manage,” Mrs. Jackman says.

Mama, who doesn’t take no for an answer, says, “You work really hard taking care of everyone in this house. It’s about time someone took care of you.”

And that was that. Mama made sure the older kids were ready to leave for the bus and herded the younger ones into the living room with some books before we left.

I smile, focused on Mama as she pulls out of our driveway. I love the way her lips twitch when she has something on her mind. I can tell she’s creating a list of things she plans to do when she gets back to Mrs. Jackman’s house. That’s the way Mama is. She cares deeply for people, which is what made her such a good nurse, and she always goes above and beyond to make sure everyone has what they need. Mrs. Jackman will want for nothing when Mama returns. Mama will do everything from her dishes to prepping dinner and taking care of the toddlers while Mrs. Jackman takes a nap.

“Why are you staring at me?” Mama says, tilting her sunglasses down.

“You miss it,” I say.

Mama pushes her glasses up and balances them on top of her head. “Miss what?”

“You miss helping people.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says.

“You know exactly what I mean,” I say. “You told me you’d think about going back to work.”

“I did think about it, and I think I’d rather be at home,” she says.

“Come on, Mama. Your face lit up when you were back there. Nursing makes you happy.”

Mama’s smile disappears. “I don’t think I can go back.”

“Why not?”

She grips the steering wheel tighter. “Because I can’t welcome new babies into this world when my own baby isn’t around. It makes me angry just thinking about how unfair it is. And then I get upset with myself for being angry. It’s better if I stay away.”

“But you used to love it so much,” I say.

“That doesn’t mean I love it now.”

My stomach turns. Maybe I’ve been going about this the wrong way. Maybe Annie was right when she said that I always push people to do things because I think I know what’s best when I don’t. I thought Mama was so focused on me that she forgot about how much she used to enjoy her old job, but that isn’t the case. She’s avoiding it because she’s scared of facing that environment when I’m gone. I thought if I pushed her hard enough to go back, she’d automatically remember the joy it brought her, and things would magically go back to the way they used to be.

Now, I’m starting to realize maybe I can’t fix her problems, because I can’t control leaving. I can’t make it easier for her to go back to the hospital. I thought if she went back to work, she’d have something else to focus on besides grief later, but maybe it’ll only make it worse.

For someone who prides themselves on fixing the world around them, I’ve been striking out a lot. It’s like no matter how hard I want to make everyone’s lives better, I make them worse.

I almost want to give up on my list.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

DANIEL

The morning sun seeps into my room. I shut off my alarm and stagger out of bed. Margo is still ignoring me, and I need to figure out how to get her to talk to me. If I’m stubborn enough, maybe I’ll win this time. After throwing my clothes on and brushing my teeth, I grab my things, ready to run out the door.

“Daniel?” Laura says.

I crane my neck to follow the direction of her voice. She’s sitting at the table with Rob and Olive. There’s a stack of waffles on the table next to syrup, strawberries, and whipped cream. This is odd. In all my time here, we’ve never sat down for breakfast at the table. Laura usually makes a simple breakfast to hand off to everyone as they run out the door.

My skin crawls because this is definitely not normal.

“Could you come sit down for a minute? We have something we need to discuss with the two of you.”

I inch closer, looking to Olive for answers.

She shrugs, as clueless as me.

“Do you want a waffle?” Laura asks, tilting the plate toward me.

“I’m good,” I say, eager to leave.

Laura takes Rob’s hand and looks at him with a smile. “We have some important news to share.”

Olive groans. “Please tell me you aren’t getting a divorce.”

“Olive!” Laura and Rob say at once.

“Okay . . .” She raises her eyebrows. “Then what is it?”

Laura takes a deep breath. “We’re having a baby.”

Olive gasps. “How?” She shakes her head and waves her hands in front of her. “No, don’t tell me that. But aren’t you a little too . . .” She doesn’t finish.

“Too what? Too old?”

Olive’s eyes dart away. “You said it. Not me.”

Laura laughs. “We aren’t that old.”

I don’t say anything, but I have a lot on my mind. Do we have room for the baby? Where is it going to sleep? Is it going to share a room with Olive? What if they don’t want me to stay here anymore? Babies are expensive.

“Did you plan this?” Olive demands.

“It was definitely a surprise,” Rob says, eyes widening.

Laura squeezes his hand. “But we’re excited.”

Olive takes a giant bite of waffle and chews it loudly as she overthinks this new information. “Everyone is going to think the baby is mine anytime we go in public. What am I supposed to do about that?”

“Carry a sign that tells everyone you’re the sister,” Laura says without missing a beat.

Olive frowns. “Am I going to have to babysit all the time? I’m not good with babies.”

Laura smiles at Olive. “You’ll be just fine. You’re overthinking this. This is going to be a big change for everyone, but it’s going to be okay. We’ll navigate it together.”

I don’t include myself in the “we.” I’m not part of their family, and I probably won’t even be around by the time the baby comes. For all I care, they can turn the office into a nursery as soon as I’m gone. They don’t need me here. They took care of me because they pitied me, but once I’m old enough to live on my own, they won’t feel obligated to keep me here.

“What do you think, Daniel?” Laura asks.

“Oh,” I say, sitting up. “Congratulations.” That’s a thing people say, right?

“Thank you,” she says. “And don’t worry. I know our house is a little small for three kids, but we’ll make it work.”

I nod. Do I believe her? Not really, but nodding seems like the fastest way to get out of here. I don’t want to be sitting at this table talking about a baby that won’t show up for months when I could be with Margo.

“I need to get to school,” I say, pushing my chair back.

“You need to eat something,” Laura says.

“I’ll grab an apple.”

“I should go too,” Olive says. She jumps up and follows me out the door. She hurries in front of me and walks backwards. “I knew something was up!”

“Well, you were right.”

She furrows her brow, and her mouth twists. “They can’t be serious. What were they thinking?”

“It’ll be fine,” I say.

She huffs as she continues down the sidewalk. “By the time I graduate, that kid won’t even be in school yet. They’re practically starting over. What if they die young, and I’m left raising it? How am I ever going to get on Broadway if I’m taking care of a kid?”

“Olive?”

“Hmm?”

I stall as I reach the bus stop. “Your mom is right. You’re overthinking this.”

She crosses her arms. “Well, someone has to.” Her eyes bug out. “I’ve never changed a diaper. How can I take care of a kid when I don’t even know that? And are babies like dogs? If I accidentally give it chocolate, will it die?”

I can’t help but laugh.

“This isn’t funny,” she says.

“Yes it is,” I say, getting on the bus.

Olive sits next to me. “I’m not prepared for this. It can’t happen.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you have the internet and months to research ‘how not to kill my sibling.’ ”

“I guess you’re right.” She sighs. “You should research that too.”

“The baby won’t be my sibling.”

Olive rolls her eyes. “You’re practically our brother.”

No, I’m not. I’m just someone staying in their house. “We’re not that close,” I say.

“Yes we are. You practice my drama lines with me, and we argue. That practically makes us brother and sister.”

I stare out the window. “Whatever you say.”

I like Olive. I do. But one day Olive is going to grow up, and when she does, she’ll realize that I’m not the person she thinks I am. I’m not a good person. If she wants a sibling so badly, then maybe this new baby is a good thing. It’ll give her what she thinks she sees in me. It’ll give her a friend.

“My audition is coming up. If I’m in the play, you’ll come, right?”

“Do I have to?”

She nudges me with her arm.

“Okay, okay. I’ll be there.”

“You better.” She reaches over my head and pulls the signal for our stop.

Nerves flood through me from my head to my toes. Will Margo talk to me today? Will she go back to the way we used to be?

She’s at her locker, and her hair stands out against her light top. Gold lemons dangle from her ears. An overwhelming pressure builds in my chest. I need her close. I just wish she wanted the same thing.

“Hey,” I say, walking closer.

She glances over. “Hi.” She hangs up her backpack and closes her locker.

My hands tremble at my sides, afraid she’ll pretend not to hear me. “Are you heading to class?”

She nods. She’s about to say something else when I follow her gaze and spot Annie at the other side of the hallway.

Annie shakes her head at us and walks in the opposite direction.

Margo’s face falls and tears well up in her eyes.

They must still be fighting.

I reach out to her. “Do you want me to try talking to her?”

Instead of answering, she takes off running.

I jog after her. “Margo, slow down.”

She doesn’t slow down. She wipes her eyes as she barrels through the school entrance. I find her standing against the school off to the side, clutching her books like they’re her support animal. Her eyes are watery.

“What happened?”

Margo stares at her feet, but I can’t bear to see her cry. It tears me up inside, like her pain is mine.

I want to make it better. I want her to smile. “Will you please talk to me?”

Her chin quivers. “I miss Annie.”

“I bet she misses you too.”

“She hates me right now,” she says. “She still won’t talk to me.”

“Have you tried—”

“I’ve tried everything,” she cries.

My heart swells. I want to brush her hair back to get it out of her beautiful eyes, but I know better. “It will get better.”

“How do you know?”

If I’ve learned anything, when Margo sets her mind on something, it happens. The universe bends to whatever she wants. As it should. “Because I know you.”

She starts to smile when red blood drips onto her upper lip.

My heart drops like a brick.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

I know Margo is sick, but I’ve never seen any proof until now. “You’re bleeding.”

She catches her breath and touches her face. When she pulls her hand back, her fingers are spotted with blood.

She covers her nose and rushes back inside, racing down the hallway.

“Margo, wait!” I chase after her to make sure she’s okay. I’m not about to make her deal with this alone.

She’s about to barge through the bathroom door when it opens from the other side.

I slow to a stop when I see Annie standing in front of Margo. Her face drains, and she pulls Margo into the bathroom, leaving me outside.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

MARGO

Annie pulls me into the bathroom and over to the sink. She grabs a handful of paper towels, wets them, and hands me the wad, and I cover my nose again.

“It’s all over you,” Annie says, taking my free hand to wipe it clean. “How are you feeling? Do you need to sit down?” She touches my forehead, searching for a fever.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, hoping the pressure will stop the bleeding. My head feels light, and I grasp the sink.

Annie holds on to me. She might be upset, but there isn’t an ounce of anger in her eyes, only concern. “I think you need to see the nurse.”

“I’ll be fine. The bleeding will stop. It always does eventually.”

Annie pauses. “Don’t tell me this has been happening a lot.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

She shakes her head. “Come with me,” she says, marching me right out of the bathroom.

Daniel, who’s sitting on the floor, hops up. “Are you okay?” He comes to my side and places shaky hands on my shoulders.

“Help me get her up to the nurse’s office,” Annie says.

With one hand on the small of my back and the other steadying my arm, Daniel moves. Annie is still on the other side, and together we make slow steps forward.

I hate the looks I’m getting from everyone. I wanted to avoid these looks. I was already known as the sick girl here once; I don’t want to be known as that again. I’m so much more than that. It’s not how I want to be remembered. Thankfully, the warning bell rings throughout the hallway and most of the kids run off to class.

After a few minutes of awkward stumbling, we make it to the office. The secretary gasps and jumps out of her seat when I walk in. I know I look bad, but not that bad.

“Margo needs to see the nurse,” Annie says.

“Of course,” she says. She runs over to one of the many doors and knocks on it. “Ms. Peters? Someone is here to see you.”

Ms. Peters opens the door, revealing a room with two cots. On the other side of the room is a sink and Ms. Peters’s desk. Without hesitation she rushes to my side. “Oh my. What happened?”

“It’s just a nosebleed,” I mumble through the paper towels.

She ushers us into the room and has me sit on one of the cots. Then she asks me to lower my hand so she can see. “It’s still bleeding, but I don’t think it’s quite as bad.”

Daniel and Annie stand off to the side, not wanting to make eye contact or touch, but at the same time, neither one wants to leave. I’m not used to seeing them in the same room. It’s like my two worlds are colliding.

Ms. Peters walks over to the sink and gets some fresh paper towels. She also grabs a wet wipe, which she hands to me when she comes back. “Do you want me to call a parent to come pick you up?”

“I’ll be okay.”

“Dear, your shirt is covered in blood.”

I look like I’m part of a crime scene. Red splotches pepper the front of my blouse and there’s even a spot or two on my pants. “Oh.”

“Do you have a change of clothes?” she asks.

“No.” The only reason I ever had extra clothes at school was back when I was in PE class. That was freshman year.

“Well, you could look in the lost-and-found bin to see if there’s something in there that fits.”

“Margo, you should call Mama,” Annie says. “This is bad. You might be . . .” She can’t even say what’s on her mind. “You need to go to the doctor right away. They need to run tests to make sure you’re okay.”

I shake my head. “No, I don’t. It’ll be fine.”

Annie tears up. “It’s not fine! You’re bleeding!” She marches over, inspecting my arm. “You’re bruising too. The cancer might be back. They said it could relapse.”

I grab Annie’s arm to stop her from frisking me, searching for more bruises. “I’ve already been to the doctor.”

Her lips part, and she catches her breath. There’s a sense of betrayal in her posture. Her back stiffens. “What?”

“Annie,” I say, pausing. I’m scared to tell her my secret. Once Annie knows, there’s no more pretending. There’s no denying it. This will be the real beginning of the end. “I’m sick.”

She shakes her head, a tear spilling onto her cheek. “No. You aren’t. You’re a liar! You lie about everything!” She steps back, but I don’t let go. I’m not letting her run away this time. She closes her eyes so she doesn’t have to look at me. “I don’t believe you.”

I glance between Ms. Peters and Daniel. “Could you give us a minute please?”

“I think it’s about time to grab a coffee from the break room,” Ms. Peters says. Daniel is glued to the wall, but she pats his shoulder. “Let’s get you a pass for class.”

He’s ready to protest, but then he sees my pleading eyes and reluctantly follows Ms. Peters out of the room.

“I’m not lying,” I say.

She shakes my hand off her. “Then why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’ve been trying to figure out the best way, and I couldn’t. Especially not after everything that happened with Daniel.”

She pulls at her hair, her face turning red. “Do you really think I care about that right now! How long have you known?”

“I found out about a month ago.” I can’t believe time is moving this fast. I want it to slow down so I can drag out every second. “I was going to tell you.”

Her tears flow freely down her face, and her shoulders start to shake. “How sick are you?”

This is the moment I’ve been waiting for. All I have to say are two words, but my throat closes up, and I start to cry too. I can’t speak. Instead, I shake my head. It’s the fear we always dreaded, the unspeakable possibility of me dying.

She turns away from me, covering her face with her hands. Her sobs fill the room and tear through me like a knife.

She knows.

I hop off the bed and touch her arm. “I’m so sorry, Annie. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“How could you not tell me!” She’s a volcano of rage and a puddle of sadness all at the same time. She faces me again, shaking. “We tell each other everything.”

My lip wobbles. “I already hurt you enough with Daniel. I wanted to help you, but I made it worse. And I feel really guilty.”

She blinks back tears. “I don’t care about what happened with Daniel right now. I care about you!”

“But you should hate me.”

She leaps forward, latching on to me and hugging me close like I’m about to dissolve into thin air if she doesn’t. My heart leaps when she wraps her arms around me. I feel whole again.

“Don’t say that.”

“But it’s true.”

She shakes her head again. Her cries bubble out. “You can’t leave me, Margo.”

I know.

But I don’t have a choice.

I hold her close. “I missed you.”

That only makes her cry harder.

Annie took me home.

I wasn’t about to call Mama because I didn’t know how long she’d be at Mrs. Jackman’s. We called Papa instead to get permission to leave school early. Our drive home was quiet. There was no music. No talking.

We pull into the driveway and sit there. Neither one of us is ready to move. It might only be nine o’clock in the morning, but I think we’re both exhausted. Even though Annie says she’s not upset about the whole Daniel thing, I find it hard to believe. I think there’s unresolved tension, but she’s afraid to say anything.

“How are you feeling now?” she whispers.

My nose isn’t bleeding anymore, but my head hurts and my outfit is trashed. “I’m okay.”

She nods, still not moving. She blankly stares at our garage. “Do you really like him?”

There’s no point in hiding anything. She deserves to know it all. “I couldn’t stand him at first. He made my blood boil.”

There’s the faintest laugh from the driver’s seat.

“But he’s easy to talk to, and when I’m with him, I feel normal. He makes me feel like a normal teenager.”

Annie rests her head back on the seat and looks over. “Tell me about him.”

I fidget with my hands. I’ve wanted to talk to her about him in the way sisters talk about their crushes for so long, but I’m nervous. I don’t want to make her more upset. “He likes cats, he writes in books instead of reading them, and he has a crooked smile.”

She cringes. “Everyone knows dogs are better, writing in books is practically criminal, and has he considered braces?”

I smile. “Really?”

“Tell me more. Ruin the illusion. I’m ready,” she says, relaxing into her seat.

I try to think about reasons why Annie and Daniel wouldn’t work well together. “He doesn’t say much, so you’d probably have to start all of the conversations.”

She sucks in a breath. “Completely unacceptable. Next.”

“He likes to carry my bags.”

She shakes her head. “It’s the twenty-first century. I can carry my own bags, thank you very much.”

I laugh.

“Illusion broken,” she says.

Do I really think she’s moved on that fast? No, but I appreciate what she’s trying to do.

She stares at me for a minute, and then she says, “Did you know when you talk about him your face turns pink?”

I pull my bangs in front of my face, but they’re too short to hide my blushing.

“Does he make you happy?”

I lower my hands from my hair and nod.

“Then do me a favor: let yourself like him, and don’t feel guilty about it,” she says, eyes watering again. She bites her lip. “I want you to know what it’s like to fall in love. Everyone deserves that.” She takes a breath. “I don’t want you to miss your chance because of me.”

“Do you really mean that?” I ask.

“Yeah. Don’t hold back. If you’re only going to fall in love once, make sure you do it right. Don’t worry about me. I’ll get my own love story one day.”

“It’ll be like a movie,” I say.

“You know it. My standards are high after reading so many romance novels,” she teases.

I smile. “As they should be.”

She smiles back. “I missed you.”

My heart squeezes. “I missed you too.”

She sighs and reaches for the door. “Let’s go inside and get you changed before Mama sees you and goes ballistic.”

I’m sore and tired. Everything from my hands to legs ache, but I couldn’t be happier. I know Annie and I have a lot more to mend, but this is a start.

I check my phone. There are a few messages from Daniel asking how I am and how my conversation with Annie went.

“He wants to see you, doesn’t he?” Annie asks.

I don’t know how to respond. I’m not used to her talking about us so easily.

“Tell him to come over after school. We might as well get used to having him around,” she says as she wanders into the kitchen.

I freeze. “Really?” I squeak.

She grabs a bag of tortilla chips and pops one in her mouth. “I plan on spending the day with you. Don’t make us fight over you, Margo.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

DANIEL

I want to throw up. How am I supposed to go about my day like I didn’t just see Margo covered in blood? How am I supposed to sit at our lab table when she’s in the nurse’s office? I’m terrified of not being by her side if something happens. I know she wants to talk to Annie, but why does it have to be right now? Why does it have to be when she’s hurt?

My foot taps on the ground, and I focus on the door, hoping that it’ll open and she’ll walk in. Minutes tick by, but she never comes. Finally, the bell rings and I dart back to the office. She should be done talking to Annie by now, right?

I need to make sure she’s okay. I need to erase my last memory of her with a better one. I need to see her smile again more than I need air.

The secretary jumps up when I run into the room. I race to the nurse’s office, jacket wanting to fly off my back, and burst through the door. The cot is empty. Margo is gone.

“They went home,” Ms. Peters says, wide-eyed and holding her clipboard to her chest.

“Oh.” I grab the doorframe to catch my breath. My chest heaves and my heart sinks.

“Don’t worry. The bleeding stopped,” she says.

“Okay,” I say, staggering back out of the office. “Thank you.”

Why didn’t Margo tell me?

Is she that upset?

There are beads of sweat building on my brow, and I wipe them away, then start texting Margo. I don’t want to be annoying, but I need to know if she is actually okay. If she doesn’t reply to me, I think I might lose my mind. I’ve never felt this intertwined in someone else’s life before. It’s like she’s part of me, and when she’s gone, I can’t function. Every corner of my mind is filled with her.

When Margo finally replies, my stomach flips. I smile.

She wants me to go to her house after school. Part of me wants to run out the door this instant, but I control myself. Her family will probably be home, and I can’t have her parent’s first impression of me be me skipping school.

Reluctantly, I head to my next class.

There’s a lump in my throat. What if her family doesn’t like me? What if Annie hates me? Margo cares so much about what her family thinks that I’m worried I’ll mess everything up. They’ll take one look at me and show me the door. Or better yet, they might not let me inside the house in the first place.

I knock, planting my feet firmly onto the porch and standing up straight. I cross my arms but then immediately drop them to my sides. I don’t want to come across as rude and closed off. I stuff my hands into my pocket—one, then both, then one again. I can’t decide what the most natural and friendly pose would be.

Margo answers the door and steps out. She shuts it behind her. “Hi.”

“Hi,” I reply.

My rigid back starts to relax. She looks better, back to her normal cheery self. She’s changed into a light pink dress and tall checkered socks. I don’t know many people who could pull off this look, but somehow Margo does. “Will you sit with me?” she asks as she sits down on the porch steps.

I follow her lead and sit next to her. “Are you feeling better?”

She nods. “It looked worse than it was.”

I doubt that’s true, but if that’s what she wants me to think, I’ll agree. “Did you talk to Annie?”

“Yeah,” she says. “Annie and I are going to be okay.”

I know how much she was agonizing over their fight, so I’m glad they figured it out. But I can’t help but wonder what that means for Margo and me. Will she give me a chance now? “What about us?”

Her cheeks turn pink, and she rubs her arm. “I don’t know. This has all been really confusing.”

“Then why did you ask me to come here?” There must’ve been a reason. Margo always has a plan, an objective.

She looks down at her feet. “I found Meghan.”

I had almost forgotten that Margo was waiting for a response. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, I got ahold of her number. At least, I think I did. It’s supposed to be Meghan’s number, but it’s been years so there’s a chance she got a different one. I texted it, and now I’m waiting again.”

“Okay.” I don’t know what else to say. It doesn’t feel right that Margo is wasting her time on me. She’s wasting all her time on other people.

“Anyway, I just thought you should know,” she says, stepping off the porch like she’s already leaving.

“Why did you actually ask me to come?”

She shrugs. “Just that.”

I shake my head. “No. You could’ve texted. I didn’t need to come all this way for you to tell me that, so why don’t you tell me why you really asked me to come over.”

Her lips pinch together like she’s trying to stop herself from sharing the real reason. Then, her mouth slowly opens. “My list.”

I want her to look at me. I want to see her brown eyes. “What about it?”

She tilts her head, overthinking again. She takes a deep breath. “I tried to write something next to my own name, and I couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“I think I’m focusing on everyone else because then I don’t have to think about myself. I thought I was okay with it all, but the truth is I’m scared.” That’s when she finally looks up at me. “I’m scared of dying.”

I didn’t know it was possible for Margo to be afraid of anything. She’s fearless, bold, a force to be reckoned with, and yet here she is, vulnerable and on the verge of tears.

“I told myself I was keeping my secret to live a normal life for a little longer, but if I’m being honest, I just didn’t want it to be true. If everyone else knows, then I won’t be able to pretend like it isn’t happening.”

The gap between us is small. My nerves are on edge, hoping she’ll accidentally brush her arm against mine. Liking Margo is a definite heartbreak. She can’t change her circumstances. She’ll leave me even if she doesn’t want to. She has no choice. That should be reason enough to distance myself, but instead, I find myself wanting to inch closer to her. I want to wrap my arms around her and pull her into a hug, let her know that it’s okay to feel the way she does. Margo has spent so much time caring about other people, shouldn’t someone do the same for her? Isn’t it her turn?

We’re quiet, not speaking for a few minutes. I’m trying to think of how to respond, and whether or not I can be the person Margo needs. I’m nobody.

Our silence is broken by her sniffling back tears.

“Sorry,” she says, rubbing her wet cheeks. She forces a smile, but it isn’t big enough to hide her pain. Her watery eyes lock with my heavy stare, and her smile disappears. Her bottom lip wobbles, and her shoulders shake with her sobs. “I’m really scared,” she says, voice cracking.

It’s like a knife twisting in my chest. I hate seeing her cry. Her mascara streaks down her face as the tears pave their way to the tip of her nose and fall onto her dress.

“Let me help you,” I whisper.

Margo frowns, glancing down. She shakes her head.

With a timid hand I wipe away one of the black streaks under her eyes. Her skin is smooth and perfect, and my hand is on fire. It’s the way I’d imagined it would be. “Let me help you live.”

Margo’s ears turn pink. “I can’t.”

“Yes you can. Everyone deserves at least one adventure in their lifetime.” I think I might forget how to breathe, and my pulse spikes. “Let me be yours.”

I can only imagine what’s going through her head. All the people she’s trying to please. Annie.

My stomach ties itself in knots with each passing second as I wait for her reply.

“Okay,” she says, smiling.

My heart is beating so fast, I swear it’s about to jump out of my chest.

So what if she’s dying? She isn’t dying right now, and I tell myself that’s the only thing that matters.

She wipes her eyes and clears her throat. “We better head inside. Everyone’s waiting to meet you.”

“What?” My eyebrows shoot up.

She laughs and stands up. “It’ll be fine. Trust me.”

I follow her inside, and as I’m taking off my shoes, a tall man who I assume is Margo’s father comes into the entryway. His hair is thinning a little at the sides, and he’s dressed like he’s about to go golfing—white pants, tucked-in polo shirt.

I gulp.

He looks me up and down, and I quake in my shoes. “You must be Daniel,” he says.

I nod, holding out my hand. “Daniel Hansen, sir.”

A smile cracks across his face. “Matt Blakely.”

“Nice to meet you,” I say.

“Make yourself at home,” he says. Then he turns to Margo. “I’ll let Mama know he’s here.”

Does my arrival really need to be announced to the entire family?

From the outside it’s an older house, but inside it’s sleek and modern. The walls are gray with white trim, and everywhere I look, there are black and gold accents. Photos of Annie and Margo from the time they were little to now plaster the walls.

I follow Margo into the kitchen where Annie stands in front of a popcorn maker. The kernels pop and crackle into the bowl she’s placed next to the machine.

“Hi,” she says. I think she’s scared to look at me because she doesn’t hold eye contact very long. Either that, or she’s embarrassed by the fact that I knew she had a crush on me.

“Hey,” I say. “What’s the popcorn for?” I’m trying to break the ice. Maybe if I act normal, Annie will too.

“We’re watching a movie,” she says.

Margo smiles at me. “I hope that’s okay.”

I smile at the sisters. “What are we watching?” I don’t really care what we watch as long as I get to spend time with Margo.

Annie is about to respond when the front door flies open.

“Where is he?” Margo’s mom runs through the house like there’s a fire. Margo must get her eyes from her mother, because her mother’s eyes are brown and the size of saucers. She locks onto me and barrels toward me.

For a moment, I think I’m about to be tackled as she grabs me and forces me into a hug. She holds on to me so tight I can’t breathe. “Hello?” I squeak.

“You wonderful, charming, beautiful boy,” she says.

“Mama!” Margo and Annie say in unison.

She steps back. “I’m allowed to be excited,” she says, letting me go. Mostly. She’s holding my arms, but she leans back to get a better look. “This is the first time either one of you have brought a boy home.”

“Careful, this might be the last time,” their dad calls from the hallway.

Margo smiles wide. “Well, this is my family. Hopefully, they haven’t scared you off yet.”

Her mom rolls her eyes. “Oh hush. We aren’t that bad.”

“How’s Mrs. Jackman?” Margo asks.

Her mother steps around me to grab a small handful of popcorn. “She’ll be okay. She needs to rest, though, and I told her she needs to be honest with her doctor about how she’s feeling.”

“Well, I’m glad you were able to help her today. You look happy,” Margo says. There’s a silly expression coating her face as she watches her mom. I don’t know why. I haven’t known these people long enough to understand how they interact with each other. I feel like I’m missing half the conversation from the glances they’re exchanging.

Her mother waves her off and turns back to me. “You’re staying for dinner?” she asks, but before I can respond, she starts talking again. “Of course you are. I don’t know why I asked. We’re having salmon, mashed potatoes, and salad.”

“He’s a vegetarian,” Margo says.

“Oh,” replies her mother. She blushes and fans herself with her hand. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make it sound like you had to eat salmon. We have other things. I could make you pasta or a sandwich. Or I could run back to the store and buy some tofu. I’ve never actually cooked tofu, but today is as good as any to learn—”

“You don’t need to do that. I’ll just eat the potatoes and salad.”

She crosses her arms. “Nonsense. That is utterly unacceptable. Those are side dishes. I insist on making you something to go along with it.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Yes, I do.” She starts going through her cupboards. “I refuse to send any guest away hungry. You will be fed in this house, and that’s final.”

“But—”

Margo tugs on my arm, and I almost trip over her as I twist to follow her out of the kitchen.

“There’s no point in arguing. She’ll win,” she whispers. “Besides, she likes to cook.”

Annie lifts her giant bowl of popcorn off the counter and leads the way to the living room. She side-eyes me, and I wonder what’s going through her head. She twists her mouth and after much deliberation, she says, “I don’t know what to watch with you here.”

“Just watch whatever you want?”

She scratches her head. “But we always watch rom-coms. You probably wouldn’t like those.”

“Why not?”

She shrugs. “It doesn’t seem like something you’d watch, but I could be wrong.” She raises an eyebrow. “Do you watch rom-coms?”

“Not really.”

“See, that’s what I thought,” Annie replies.

Margo sits down next to Annie, and I sit next to Margo.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t watch one right now,” I say.

Margo nudges Annie. “Stop stalling and pick one.”

Annie settles on Leap Year.

The three of us sit there awkwardly next to each other. I’m stiff, afraid of my arm rubbing against Margo’s. Annie keeps stealing glances at us. I’m pretty sure she thinks she’s being subtle, but she couldn’t be more obvious. And Margo sits forward, pinching her wrist.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

Her eyes are heavy, but she smiles. “Trying to stay awake.”

Annie groans. “This is a good movie. I swear.”

“I never said it wasn’t,” Margo replies.

“Do you want me to pause it?” Annie asks.

“No. I’m good. Really,” she says.

I don’t buy it. Not after this morning. Margo doesn’t feel good, but she knows Annie wants to watch a movie with her, and I came all the way from school to visit, so no matter how tired she is, I know she is going to sit here and continue pinching herself. I don’t like that. She’s going to give herself a bruise—if she hasn’t already.

Forget about feeling awkward. I put my hand on Margo’s shoulder and ease her back on the couch. “You need to rest.”

She tries to resist, but her eyes are too heavy. She falls asleep not even two minutes later. I can tell by the change in her breathing. Each breath is soft and consistent, easing my mind enough to relax too.

I find myself watching her more than the movie, trying to mesmerize every inch of her face.

“You really care about her,” Annie says.

My gaze drifts to Annie. I nod.

Annie seems like a quiet person, someone who only speaks when she has something important to say. I admire that about her. She thinks carefully about every word. “Make sure she knows. Don’t forget to look at her like that when she’s awake.”

My cheeks burn, and I shift my weight. I figured I was just staring at her like a normal person, but apparently not.

Annie chuckles. “I didn’t mean to make you feel weird.”

“You didn’t.” She did.

“I don’t know if she’s told you yet, but she likes you.”

My heart leaps.

Annie continues, “I want you to spoil her. You’re her love story. She won’t have another, so make sure you make it a good one.” She props her elbow up on the arm rest and leans her head on her hand.

I look back at Margo, at the curve of her lashes, at her soft pink lips, at the silly expression she’s making, and I know Annie is right. Margo deserves to be spoiled. The problem is I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know how to spoil a girl. I don’t know the first thing about romance.

“Will you help me?” I ask.

“Me?” Annie says, almost choking on her popcorn.

“You’re the one who watches rom-com movies and reads romance novels. Shouldn’t you know what to do?”

Her eyes widen. “That doesn’t make me an expert. Besides, you seem to be doing a decent job.”

“You know more than I do. You could tell me all the things I don’t have time to learn about Margo. Help me learn what she likes and what she hates.” Margo has that list, the list of things she wants to do for other people, but I want to help her live for herself too.

“Margo’s the one who’s good at planning things. Not me.”

“Says who?”

Annie opens her mouth to argue, but she’s left searching for words.

“You’re the one who said I need to spoil her. Aren’t you going to help me?”

Annie pinches the bridge of her nose.

“What are you doing?”

“Thinking.”

“Oh.”

Annie takes another bite of popcorn as she continues to think. “Margo is happiest when everyone around her is happy too. When we were little, every time I cried, she cried too even if she didn’t know why I was crying. If you really want to spoil her, be the best version of yourself. If you get upset, try not to let her know, otherwise she’ll spend a bunch of time trying to fix whatever is bothering you.”

I wonder if this is what Annie is doing now. Maybe she’s pretending to be okay with Margo and me because she thinks that’ll make her sister happy.

I also wonder if I misunderstood Margo’s list. Adding to it isn’t enough. I need to help her cross off what’s already on it. Margo won’t be able to focus on herself while her family weighs on her mind.

I need to get a better look at her list.

“She also likes strawberries.”

I laugh. “That’s random.”

“Well, this conversation got a little heavy. I’m trying to lighten it up.” Annie smiles. “Take her on nice dates. Buy her flowers. Do all things a boyfriend is supposed to do.”

“What are all the things a boyfriend is supposed to do?”

Annie shakes her head. “I think you need to come over for a few more movie nights for research purposes.”

I laugh.

CHAPTER THIRTY

MARGO

I help Mama set the table, making sure to add an extra placemat. Mama brings out her dishes. She made the salmon, potatoes, and salad, but she also made another dish. It’s covered, but I know it’s meant for Daniel.

One by one we filter into the room and take a seat. Our table is round so there’s no head or foot, but Papa always sits underneath the window. Annie and I always sit across from each other. I squeeze Daniel in between me and Papa.

“It smells wonderful,” Papa says.

After Daniel sits down, Mama reaches over and takes the cover off her secret dish. It’s stuffed mushrooms, and the garlic wafting from them makes my stomach growl. They’re so hot that the cheese is still bubbling.

“I hope you like mushrooms. I filled them with cheese and spinach. There are also some breadcrumbs on top to give it a little texture, but if you don’t like mushrooms, you don’t have to—”

“I like mushrooms,” Daniel says, smiling. It’s a cute smile, one where I can tell he’s trying not to let it show, but he can’t hide it. That’s the way he is. I think he’s scared to show others when he’s happy. Like he’s afraid if someone notices, they’ll take his happiness away from him.

“Oh good,” Mama says. “Well, don’t just sit there. Dish up.”

Daniel takes his fork and transfers one of the stuffed mushrooms to his plate.

Mama reaches over and adds another. “Don’t be shy.” She adds mashed potatoes and salad to his plate.

“Mama, he can get his own food,” I whisper.

He shakes his head, his smile growing a little wider. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

“Tell us about yourself,” Papa says. “What do your parents do?”

Daniel’s back stiffens. He stares at Papa like he’s been caught red-handed, but having a complicated family isn’t a crime. His foot starts to tap, and he grabs his leg like he’s trying to stop it from shaking.

I speak up so he doesn’t have to. “Daniel lives with his cousins. Laura is a spin instructor and Rob is a manager for a construction company.”

Daniel’s leg calms.

“Oh, nice,” Papa says. “Maybe we could invite them over for dinner sometime.”

“I bet they would love that,” I say.

We spend the next ten minutes or so eating. Mama asks more questions about Daniel, but she’s not the type to wait for answers. She answers her own questions with her best guess and moves on. Daniel stays pretty quiet. He tries to smile every time I steal a glance at him, but I know there’s something weighing on his mind. I wish he’d tell me what he’s thinking instead of holding it all inside.

“Excuse me,” he says, pushing his chair back and standing. “I need to use the bathroom.” He leaves the dining room, but we didn’t give him a tour when he got here.

“Is he leaving?” Mama asks. “He’s walking to the entryway.”

I jump up. “I don’t think he knows where the bathroom is.” I race out of the dining room and catch up to him.

He stands in the entryway next to my backpack, back arched as he bends over my notebook in his hands. My heart beats faster, seeing the page he’s looking at.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

He looks up and swallows. Tears prick at his eyes. “I told you to add yourself to the list, but instead you added me.”

I take the book from his hands, close it, and tuck it under my arm. “You weren’t supposed to see that. Why are you going through my things?”

He stares at his feet. “I wanted to help you with your list, but I don’t know if I can do what you want me to.”

Daniel: help him figure out where he belongs.

“Why not?” I don’t think it’s too much to ask. I want him to be okay when I leave. I want him to reconnect with his father. His cousins also care about him, but he can’t see that. I want him to try harder with them. I’ve seen the way he acts with Olive. He cares about her. He protects her.

His jaw clenches, and he slips his feet into his shoes.

“Where are you going?”

“I need some air.”

“We’re talking,” I say.

It’s like he doesn’t hear me. He opens the door and leaves. This isn’t okay. He can’t close down over something like this. I need him to tell me what’s going through his head.

I run outside after him without my shoes. “Don’t walk away from me, Daniel!”

His dark silhouette melts into the night, but as soon as I spot him, I charge after him. He walks faster, heading down the sidewalk. I ignore the small rocks on the pavement that scrape the soles of my feet. As soon as he’s in arm’s reach, I grasp his arm.

He stops, but he refuses to turn.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” I say. “Why are you so upset? I don’t understand.” I step in front of him, but as soon as I do, he turns his head farther.

“I,” he says, but pauses. “I don’t want you to see me cry.” He blinks as he bites his lip.

I hook my finger underneath his chin and turn him to face me. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

His tear-filled eyes meet mine, and I can see every ounce of pain he’s holding in. “I already know where I belong. I belong with you, Margo.”

The crack in his voice stabs me to my core. I hate that I’m the reason he’s crying. These are one of those moments where I can’t say it’ll be okay. It won’t. I can’t ignore his shaky breath or his tears.

“I want to be happy, for you, but I don’t know how,” he whispers.

He’s missing the point. “I don’t want you to be happy for me. I want you to feel that way for yourself.”

“I don’t care about myself,” he says.

I know. That’s the problem. I want him to see that not everyone in the world is going to hurt him. It’s okay for him to live his life. I want him to figure out where he belongs in this strange, unstable world because I know once he does, he’s going to do amazing things.

“I don’t need you to help me cross off the other names on my list,” I say. “Just promise me you’ll help me with yours. Try saying yes. Next time Olive or Laura or Rob invite you to do something, say yes. Next time you see something you want to try, say yes. If we find your dad and he wants to get to know you, say yes. Can you do that?”

He steps back, wiping his eyes and looking away again. “I don’t know.”

I lean, following his gaze. “Could you try?”

He half laughs, half cries at my wide-eyed expression. “I can try.”

I smile. “Thank you.”

His breathing slows, but then his gaze shifts to my feet. “Where’s your shoes?”

I cringe, trying to hide one foot behind the other. “I didn’t put them on.”

“You can’t do that,” he says, bending down to get a better look.

“It’s fine. I used to do it all the time growing up.”

“That was before you were sick,” he says, lifting one of my feet. “I don’t want you to cut your feet on something walking back.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?” I ask, crossing my arms. Does he want me to wait while he runs back to grab my shoes?

“I’ll carry you,” he says.

“What?” Nerves ripple through me.

He turns, and back facing me, crouches down.

I don’t move. I can’t. This has never happened to me before. I have no idea what to do.

“How long do you plan on making me wait?”

My cheeks turn pink. Again, this is the type of thing Annie would be ecstatic about. If I tell her that I rejected Daniel’s offer to carry me home, she’ll be livid. So despite the fact I feel awkward, I step forward until I’m against his back. His touch makes my stomach flutter like a thousand butterflies at war. I hold on to him from behind as he loops his arms under my legs to keep me from falling as he stands.

I make a sound that can only be described as the most unromantic squeal known to man.

He laughs. “Are you okay?”

I hold him tighter, afraid that if I don’t, I’ll fall. “Yes.”

His breath catches. I expect him to make the short walk back to my house but he speeds up, passing it.

“Where are you going?” I say.

“Kidnapping you.”

I smile, still in disbelief that he’s this close. “Why?”

He heads toward the end of the street. “Because I’m not ready to take you home.”

“Then where are we going? You can’t carry me forever.”

“If I could, would you let me?” he asks. I wish I could see his face because I have a feeling he’s wearing a coy smile.

In the distance is our neighborhood’s park. “Why don’t you take me there?” I ask, pointing.

Daniel walks to the little playground. It’s not much. There’s a swing set, a seesaw, and a merry-go-round. It’s lit up by one streetlamp, making it stand out in the dark. When we were young, Annie and I spent a lot of time here, but I haven’t been here in years.

“I want to swing,” I say.

Daniel backs up to the swing, lowering himself. I let go of him and grasp the silver chains of the swing. I sit but keep my feet up high enough that they don’t touch the gravel below them.

I start to kick my legs, trying to get leverage, but I don’t get very high. Daniel walks behind me and gently starts pushing me. Every time my back crashes into his hands, my pulse skyrockets. I like knowing he’s right behind me.

The stars shine down on us, and I connect them in my mind, mapping out all the constellations I can remember. They’re beautiful. Their light is so strong that even after they die, they shine for billions of years. I want to be like a star. I want to shine that long.

“Margo?” Daniel says, pushing me again.

“Hmm?”

He catches the chains instead of pushing me again and the swing stalls. “Annie says I’m supposed to spoil you.”

I smirk. She wants me to have a movie-like romance, so I should’ve seen that coming. “How are you going to do that?”

“If I asked you on a date, would you go?”

I twist to look over my shoulder so I can make eye contact. “What would you do if I said no?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Ask again.”

“Yes, I’d go.” I stand up on the seat and hold on tightly to the chains. I’m higher than he is now.

“What are you doing?” He raises an eyebrow and puts his hands on my waist to steady me.

I ignore his question. “So ask me. Not hypothetically this time.”

“Huh?”

“Ask me on a date.”

There’s that goofy grin I love. He tilts his head up to look at me. “Margo Blakely, will you go on a date with me?”

“I’d love to go on a date with you, Daniel Hansen.”

“If you could pick anything to do tomorrow, what would it be?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” I say. “I told you my mind went blank when I put my own name down on my list.”

“I find that hard to believe. Isn’t there something you’ve been wanting to do but haven’t been able to?”

I rack my brain, trying to think of something. Then, a light bulb goes off. I have an idea so clear as day, I’m shocked I haven’t thought of it sooner. I can’t help but smile.

“You thought of something,” he says.

I nod.

“Well, what is it?” he asks.

“I’ve never been on a roller coaster, and they have one at the fair.”

“Then let’s go,” he says.

We stay at the park for a few more minutes before we head back to my house. When we get there, Daniel has to leave, and he says the word I hate the most.

“Goodbye.”

I shake my head. The word is too final. It’s sad. “It’s not goodbye. I’ll see you later.”

He nods. “I’ll see you later.”

I wave and watch him walk away.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

DANIEL

I’m glad she figured out what she wants to do, but it just so happens to be one of my greatest fears. I hate heights. Anytime I’ve ever been more than a few feet off the ground, my skin crawls and all I can do is picture myself falling. But if Margo wants to go on a roller coaster, then that’s what we’re going to do.

She grabs my arm, eyes big, as we wait for the bus. “I’ve always wanted to try one of the roller coasters that go upside down. They look like so much fun.”

I can’t imagine anything more horrific, but I’m not going to tell her no. This is happening whether I like it or not. “It’ll be great,” I say, trying to convince myself.

Her eyebrows meet in the middle. “You don’t seem like the type of person who goes to fairs.”

She looks directly at me, waiting for my reply. I like her attention, but I don’t know how to handle it. Before, when I didn’t like her being around, it was easier. I could run. I could push her away. But now, it’s frightening how badly I want to touch her again. I want to hold her hand. Stroke her cheek. Brush her bangs out of her eyes. Anything that would let me be closer to her.

I don’t know how to say it, though. I’m afraid of scaring her away, so I keep my hands to myself, in my pockets and safely out of reach.

The bus turns the corner and comes down the road. I clear my throat, nodding toward it. “I’ll go wherever you go.”

Her gaze flickers away, and her ears turn pink.

The bus stops in front of us, and we walk up the steps. Margo takes a window seat and focuses on the bright fair lights in the distance. “I’m excited.”

The corners of my lips turn up.

We don’t say much on the ride downtown, both nervous and not knowing what to do. When we get close to the fairgrounds, I reach up to pull the yellow cord above Margo’s head to request the stop. We still have to walk a couple of blocks, but I don’t mind. The evening air is warm, and there’s a gentle breeze that somehow makes it the perfect temperature.

It blows through Margo’s hair, parting her bangs to reveal her forehead. There are more freckles on her face than I’ve ever seen before.

She glances over at me. “What?”

I shift my gaze from her to the sidewalk in front of me. “Nothing,” I say, not knowing how to tell her she’s pretty.

The parking lot is overflowing with cars looking for places to park, and there’s a line at the ticket stand. I didn’t realize there would be so many people here, but it makes sense. I bet a lot of people come after work or school. I have to admit that with the sun going down, the fair lights are amazing. I understand why Margo won’t stop staring at them. I can only imagine the way they’ll reflect in her eyes as the night gets darker.

It doesn’t take long for us to get our tickets and head in. The place is swarming with people. Everywhere I turn, there are booths with everything from caricature art to jewelry to clothing. There’s live music, and the farther we walk in, the more noticeable the food vendors are. The smell is a mixing pot of barbecue and pizza with a touch of popcorn, making my stomach growl.

“What first?” I ask.

Margo’s eyes widen, taking everything in. “I want to do the rides.”

“Okay,” I say, sweat immediately building on my brow.

Margo grins and leads us through the crowd to the side of the grounds where all the rides are lumped together. We each get a bracelet for unlimited rides and step into the line for the roller coaster. It’s not very big, but my stomach still turns at the sight of it.

I tap my foot against the ground as my pulse races.

“Are you good?” she asks, tilting until she comes into my view.

“Yeah.” Margo wants to ride the roller coaster, and I’m going to ride it with her no matter how hard it is for me.

The line moves up and Margo jumps ahead a few feet. We’ll be in the next group to get on. She stands tall with her hands on the silver chain-link fence closing us off from the ride. She bounces on her feet watching the roller coaster rise and dip, screams carrying through the air.

My back tenses up as soon as it stops and lets everyone off.

We’re about to get on.

In the air.

High up.

As soon as the employee opens the gate, Margo scurries ahead. She shows her wristband to him. I do the same, but at a much slower rate. Margo runs straight for the front row, climbing into the seat. She looks back at me and pats the seat next to her.

I gulp and sit down.

Margo wants to ride the roller coaster, so I’m going to ride it too.

I don’t know if repeating that is going to help me, but it’s worth a try.

Margo taps her feet against the metal. “I can’t wait!” She’s lit up, face beaming. I wish I could focus on that instead of my nerves.

The employee comes up to us and lowers our harnesses, locking us into place. There’s still lots of space around us, and even though thousands of people ride roller coasters like this every day without falling out, in the span of two minutes it’s become my new worst fear.

“Are you sure this is safe?” I ask, clutching the harness for dear life.

Margo holds her arms in the air, carefree, as the ride starts to move. “Of course it is.”

We ascend quickly, moving faster than I’d ever like to. I close my eyes, trying to pretend I’m not about to drop from the sky.

“What’s wrong?” Margo asks me.

I can’t look. If I do, I know I’ll faint.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm my heart. “I’m afraid of heights.”

“What?” Margo says, practically yelling at me. “Why didn’t you tell me!”

I open my eyes. “Because you wanted to ride the roller coaster!”

Her jaw drops. “We could’ve done something else.”

I shake my head. “Too late.” I force a smile.

My stomach lurches as we level out because I know seconds from now, we’re going to drop. I’m going to be sick. My head spins, and I refuse to look down. If I do, I think I’ll lose my mind. I’ll faint or—

Margo’s hand wraps around mine and an electric pulse shoots up my arm from her touch. “Don’t worry,” she says; she smiles ear to ear. “I got you.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

MARGO

He stares at our hands linked together, mouth parting like he’s about to say something, but then we drop, and he screams as he squeezes my hand tighter.

The ride flies up again. Then whips to the side before descending. It repeats the whole course at least five times. The wind rushes through our hair, and I scream until my voice is raw. I swear I even see Daniel smile, but there’s a possibility I imagined it. When the ride finishes, my heart is full. I hop out, smiling from ear to ear, while Daniel, on the other hand, walks off the ride like he’s drunk, legs wobbling.

I fall into step with him, and drape his arm over my shoulder and my arm around his waist to keep him steady. He rode a mini roller coaster for me even though he practically had a heart attack, so it’s the least I could do.

He flinches, back arching, and he sucks in a breath.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

His cheeks redden as he nods.

We stumble off the platform and down the ramp.

“Let’s find a place to sit,” I say.

But he stops walking.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing. I just don’t want to sit.”

“Are you sure? I’m pretty much holding you up.”

A smile tugs at his mouth, but his gaze shies away. “I know.”

I shouldn’t let him make comments like this, but it makes my heart flutter.

We spend the next ten minutes or so wandering the grounds. Color gradually returns to Daniel’s face. Once he’s ready, we go back to the rides but choose some that stay closer to the ground for his sake. I love spinning through the air. I can’t help but focus on the lights and excitement all around.

Once we’re hungry enough, we leave the rides and follow the scent of food. Every booth has a line of so many people that the lines intertwine and wrap around each other. While we wait in line, Daniel patiently listens as I talk about whatever pops into my head. I tell him all about a pair of socks I’m embroidering as a present for my cousin and how I think watermelon is great in theory, but the texture is overrated. He laughs when I do my impression of Kermit the Frog, and he reminds me to move forward every time someone ahead of us takes a step.

He doesn’t say much, but his gaze never wavers from me, like he’s taking in every word that comes out of my mouth. But finally, he asks me, “Have you thought of anything else to add to your list?”

“You mean I need to do more than this?”

He nods. “One day isn’t enough.”

I sway in the line, tugging at the pockets of my overalls. “You know what I really want after this?”

“What?”

I take a deep breath and close my eyes, imagining it. “Shaved ice. Mama always complained about the dyes in them, but you know what? I’m going to eat as much shaved ice as I want tonight.”

He laughs. “Wow, you’re really living on the edge.”

“I know, right?” I frame my face with my hands and wink. “This is the new me.”

There’s a look in his eyes that I like. It’s the gaze I’ve seen in so many movies. The look the guy has when he wants to kiss the girl. When he’s mesmerized by her.

I can see why Annie is a romantic now. Why she’s always dreamed of having someone look at her like this. It’s nice to be liked. Wanted.

My gaze falters as my back pocket buzzes, and I take out my phone. We’re almost next in line. “I need to take this. Could you order mine for me please? I’ll be back soon.”

He nods.

I step out of the line, trying to find a spot less crowded and quieter if possible.

“Hello,” I say.

“Hi. Margo, right?” Her voice is soft, hard to hear through the noise. “This is Meghan. I got your message.”

“Hi!” I cover my other ear to try and block out some of the chatter around me. “I’m so glad you called.”

“I’d love to answer your questions in person. I also have something for Daniel. Would it be okay if we met? I’ll actually be in Spokane for business later this week.”

My heart leaps for joy. This is exactly what we’ve been searching for. “That would be amazing. I can’t hear very well because we’re at the fair, but I can text you a place.”

“Okay, great. Would Friday work?”

My chest pounds, and my nerves flutter. “I have to check with Daniel, but I’m pretty sure it will.”

We exchange goodbyes, and I run back to Daniel, weaving through the sea of people. He’s sitting at a table in the grassy seating area in-between the food venders and the stage where a man is playing a country song. I rush up and smack the table with my palm. “Guess what?”

He raises an eyebrow. “What?”

I frown. “I told you to guess,” I say, sliding in next to him.

He chuckles softly. “You found a penny on the ground.”

I cross my arms. “You think I’d be this excited over a penny?”

“Sure,” he says. “Why not?”

I show him my phone even though the screen is black. “That was Meghan. She wants to meet us.”

He shifts his weight, eyes widening. “For real?”

I nod. “Friday. It’s happening. That’s when we’ll find out about your father.”

He looks down at his food, which isn’t the reaction I was expecting. I wanted him to be as excited as me.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“We’re getting so close,” he says. His voice is small and timid. “What if he doesn’t like me?”

How could he think that? I hate how that idea is floating around in his head.

I put my hands on his face, one on each cheek, and turn his head toward me to make sure he’s looking me in the eyes. “Then he doesn’t deserve you.”

His stare is strong, melting me from the inside out. Time seems to slow down as he reaches up and covers my hand.

I should move my hands, put them away in my pockets—better yet, sit on them, so I don’t touch him again—but they stay against his skin. His head moves closer, and my heart skips a beat. His mouth is a mere inch away from mine, so close that if someone were to bump into us, our lips would brush against each other.

Tears sting my eyes, and I turn my head, pulling my hands away.

Frantically, he backs up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t upset me,” I say. I have a few weeks to months left. No matter how much I want to act like that doesn’t matter right now, I can’t. “I’m scared of hurting you.”

He pauses, looking anywhere but at me. “Margo?”

“Yes?”

He faces me again. The pupils of his eyes are dilated as if I’m the only thing he sees. “I’m going to hurt either way.” There’s a mixture of pain and longing written across his face. “But never being with you would hurt me more.”

Why does he have to look at me like this? It makes me want to give in to ease my fluttering heart.

He inches closer. “I don’t have to hurt right now.” 

His stare makes me forget the truth for a moment. Would it really be so bad if I liked Daniel? I don’t have anything written next to my name on my list. What if I wrote Daniel’s name? Before I can stop myself, I lean in and leave a timid kiss on his lips, one barely lasting a second, and pull away again. 

His fingers gingerly tap his lips with a soft smile. 

I laugh, turning away. 

This isn’t like the kisses I’ve seen Annie gush over. It isn’t a kiss that’s meant to curl your toes and send shivers down your back. But it is a kiss. My kiss. It’s my way of crossing the line first, letting Daniel know it’s okay. That he has my permission even though I shouldn’t give it to him. 

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

DANIEL

Margo Blakely kissed me.

Her lips on mine.

I smile, trying to remember the feeling as long as I can.

My chest is ready to explode, pulse skyrocketing. I can’t look away from her big brown eyes. They’re like a hug to my soul, and I almost believe I matter. That I’m someone that deserves to be wanted.

Rain starts to pour, breaking our eye contact.

Without a care in the world, Margo tilts her head back, letting the raindrops fall across her face. She probably shouldn’t be out in the rain. What if it makes her sicker?

“Let’s go,” I say, tugging on her arm.

She shakes her head as she jumps up. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to do this.” She spins in the rain, arms out, and her joy is contagious. She looks happy jumping and twirling around. She’s truly happy, and I can’t help but smile, admiring her, off to the side.

“Come on,” she says, waving me over. Then she runs up and grabs me, pulling me back to where she was.

“I don’t know what to do.” I’ve never once thought to myself, I should dance in the rain.

“Just have fun,” she says. She reaches her hands up, cupped together to catch water. She’s glowing. She’s beautiful.

I get the overwhelming urge to take her hand. I twirl her around, catching her when she spins back. I rest my hand on her waist. It’s shaking, and I hope she doesn’t notice. I can’t breathe as I smile down at her soaked bangs plastered to her face. I move them out of her eyes, trying to tuck them behind her ear even though it doesn’t do much since they’re so short.

I press my lips against hers, heart exploding in disbelief as I kiss her. There’s a fear in the back of my head saying she’ll pull away, but she doesn’t. She leans into me, and I can feel her smile as she kisses me back.

Rain pours down on us, but it doesn’t matter. We’re in our own little world where time stands still. I know there are eight billion people on this earth, but I’ve never been more sure that Margo Blakely was made for me.

Her lips are soft, and her hand travels up to the back of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. I pull her closer, if that’s possible, because I want this moment to last forever. I kiss her like this is the only chance I’ll ever have. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but right now we’re together. It feels right.

When she finally pulls back, I wrap my arms around her. Her head rests against my chest, and I hold her there like she’s my missing puzzle piece. She fits so perfectly that I forget she can’t stay in my arms forever.

She shakes against me, and my hands are on her shoulders in an instant. I look into her eyes. “What’s wrong?” I tilt her head to see either side of her face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m a little cold.”

Right. Pouring rain. It makes sense.

“Let’s go inside.”

“What about our food?” she asks.

The paper plates are soaked through. The toppings of my pizza are falling off in a wet heap. “There’s no saving it. We’ll have to get something else,” I say as I gather it up to throw away.

We run to the nearest building. It’s humongous with vendors at one end and exhibitions at the other. It’s packed with everyone trying to stay dry. However, everyone else came right when the rain started. They aren’t dripping wet like Margo and me.

My shoes squeak, and my soles slosh with every step I take, leaving wet footprints behind. Margo has the same problem, but she doesn’t seem upset by it. She’s looking around like she’s forgotten she’s drenched.

There has to be something to wear in this place. Something we can buy to get out of these wet clothes.

Margo is sidetracked by a lady selling different jams and jellies. I take her hand and lead her through the crowd, trying to see the booths over the tops of people’s heads as we pass. Each booth is separated by tall black fabric that acts as temporary walls.

“What are you looking for?” she asks.

“We need to find something you can wear that’s warm and dry.” We pass stands with hair products, people selling knives, even hats and sunglasses, but no clothes.

Margo tugs back on my hand. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”

I shake my head. “No. It’s my turn to take care of you.”

Her ears turn pink, and she smiles. We continue weaving through people. “Hey, what about that!” she says, pointing toward a booth in the far corner. There’s a rack with black T-shirts next to a bunch of bedazzled belts and baseball caps.

I lead Margo to it, and she gasps as soon as she starts rifling through them.

“What?” I ask.

She takes one off the rack and shows me. The shirt has a drawing of a s’more on it with the words, Life’s s’more fun with you. “You are going to need one too.”

“No. Definitely not.”

Margo puts it back, grinning as she carefully examines every single one. “This one would be perfect for you!”

It’s one with a carrot that says, I don’t carrot all.

“Not going to happen,” I say.

She holds it in front of me as if she’s imagining me wearing it. “But it would look so good on you.”

My chest squeezes, and I know I’m blushing.

How am I supposed to tell her no? I can’t. Not when she smiles at me like this. I want her to look at me this way forever.

I take the shirt from her.

“Oh,” she says, covering her mouth. “Are you really going to wear it?”

I nod.

She does a little hop. “Really?”

A smile pulls at me. “Yes, but only for you.” I start looking at the other T-shirts. “But I’m going to pick yours.”

“That seems fair.”

She tries to peer over, but I step in the way so she can’t see.

“Pick a good one,” she says.

“Don’t worry. I will.” I pull one off the rack quickly. The shirt seems like it might be a little too big, but this is the right one. I know she’ll like it. “Close your eyes.”

She does and stands there, waiting.

I hold it up for her, hoping that she won’t think it’s too silly. “Open.”

“I like you a latte,” she reads.

“I like you too,” I say.

She tilts her head and locks eyes with me, a coy smile on her lips.

“Did you see what I did there?”

“Yeah, I did.” She reaches for the shirt.

I dodge her. “So what do you think? Do you like it?”

She laughs. I want that sound to burn its way into my brain. Calming, joyful, relaxing. I’m addicted to hearing it again.

“Hand it over,” she says. She puts a hand on my shoulder for leverage and stands on her tiptoes, arm stretched up high against mine. My hand is just out of reach with the shirt.

I peer down. She’s so focused on the shirt that she doesn’t notice me taking her wrist and tipping my head down to kiss her again.

She freezes, and her brown eyes grow big as she blushes. “Daniel Hansen . . .”

I smile. “Margo Blakely . . .”

She grabs the shirt out of my hand, holding it close. Then she opens her purse, looking for her card to pay.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with you,” she says, shaking her head.

I grab cash out of my pocket before she can find her card. I’m going to pay before she has a chance to. As I pass her, I whisper, “You can do whatever you want.” Her jaw hits the floor, and I swipe the T-shirt back. “I’m paying.”

She doesn’t say anything, and I’m convinced it’s because she can’t. She’s speechless. She doesn’t know how to react to this side of me.

I don’t even recognize myself. I’m smiling and laughing way more than I ever have before. Every time she looks at me, my heart races.

After I buy the shirts, we change in the bathrooms. I change faster than her and wait against the wall for her to come out.

She opens the women’s bathroom door slightly. “Don’t laugh,” she says. Then she steps out in a shirt that reaches halfway down her thighs, and the top of her overalls are unfastened and hanging down as if they’re just pants, the straps peeking out from under the shirt. I don’t blame her for not wanting to put the wet denim back on all the way, but I can’t help but chuckle.

She pushes my shoulder. “I told you not to laugh.”

“I’m not,” I say as I laugh.

“It’s not funny,” she says, but she starts laughing too.

I hold my index finger and thumb close together. “Maybe just a little.”

“It is not,” she argues.

I take out my phone and snap a picture. “See for yourself.” I show her the picture.

She covers her face with her hands and giggles. “Okay, you’re right. Just delete the proof.”

I shake my head. “Nah, this is going to be my screensaver.”

“Your screensaver? No, it’s awful.”

I shrug. “Well, it’s the only picture I have of you.”

She crosses her arms. “Then take another one.”

I like the picture I took, but I wouldn’t mind another one. She could fill my camera roll if she wanted to, but I don’t really know how to take a picture the way she wants. I hold the phone the same way as before, and I can tell by her expression she isn’t impressed.

“Let me show you,” she says, taking the phone from me. “Let’s use the front camera.” She links her arm in mine and holds the phone up with her other hand. It’s high up and tilted down. “Smile.”

She proceeds to take, not just one, but at least thirty pictures. She changes her pose in between with different expressions. I, on the other hand, smile at her.

“Come on, do something fun,” she says.

I kiss her cheek.

She gasps, then she clears her throat. “I think you have some more pictures to choose from,” she says, handing my phone back.

She’s right. The last picture we took is the best, much better than the first one I took. I’m kissing Margo, and from first glance, she’s shocked with her jaw dropping. But when I hold down the live photo, her face breaks into a smile.

This is my new screensaver.

When the rain stops, we head back outside. We’re both starving since neither one of us had a chance to eat before our food was ruined. Margo gets a burger, and I get a slice of cheese pizza. Then we spend the next hour or so trying rides and games until we’re both exhausted.

I follow Margo around to everything that catches her eye (which is a lot) and admire the way she takes in the world around her. Nothing is boring or trivial to her. She wants to learn and experience as much as she can.

I walk with Margo down the street toward her house. I wasn’t about to let her take the bus home alone. Not when I could spend more time with her.

“Did you have fun?” I ask.

She smiles. “Yeah.”

I rub the back of my neck. “That’s good.”

She stops and points at her big white house with the porch light on. “We’re here.”

My heart flutters with disappointment. The night is ending too soon.

She wraps her arms around my waist and squeezes me tight. “Thank you for tonight.”

I hug her back, wishing she’d stay here, but I know she needs to go inside. We can’t stand out here all night no matter how much I want to. “Can I see you again?”

“You’ll see me at school,” she says.

“And after that?”

She laughs. “Yes.”

Margo keeps her word, and that’s the only reason I let her go. I know if she says I’ll see her tomorrow, I will.

“Goodbye,” I say, waving.

She waves back. “I’ll see you later.”

Still, when she steps away, my heart pulls away with her. A weight immediately falls on my shoulders, and there’s an uneasy pit growing in my stomach. It’s a longing and fear that I’m going to carry as long as we’re apart. I know the only way to ease my worry is to have her in my arms every possible second.

I’m addicted to Margo.

She waves before stepping inside her house.

As I walk back to the bus stop, I look at our photos and my new screensaver, and I smile. If I wake up tomorrow and think this was all a dream, I have proof that tonight happened.

I kissed Margo.

Margo kissed me.

I replay it in my head the whole ride home. I can’t keep still. My foot taps, and my heart pounds as I remember the feeling of her hands in my hair and the way she held my hand most of the night.

When I get home, it’s dark and quiet, but Olive’s light shines from underneath her door. I can’t help myself from knocking on it.

“Yes?” she says.

I open the door and slip inside.

Olive is sitting at her desk cross-legged doing homework. She glances over her shoulder and raises an eyebrow. “Daniel?”

I close the door behind me and rest my head against it.

“Is something wrong?” she asks, still obviously confused by why I’m in her room.

I shake my head and smile.

“Oh,” she says as if she’s piecing together what happened. “So you and Margo are getting along.”

My smile widens. “She kissed me.”

Olive spins around. “So you’re in here to what? Brag?”

“Maybe,” I say. My gaze shifts from Olive to my hands. “I just felt like telling someone, and you’re the only person I could think of.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “You’ve got it bad.”

“I really like her,” I say. It feels good to say it out loud to someone else. It makes it seem more official. Like it isn’t some secret between Margo and me. Now Olive knows too.

Olive rests her arms on the back of her chair. “You’re like a lovesick puppy, and I don’t know whether it’s cute or gross.”

I scowl. “Cute. Definitely cute.”

“I didn’t know you could be like this. You’re like a completely different person,” she says.

“No, I’m not.”

“Have you, um”—she clears her throat—“seen what you’re wearing?”

Heat rises to my face as I look down at the shirt. “Don’t be jealous.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. I will gladly let you keep that shirt.”

My phone buzzes.

“It’s Margo, isn’t it?”

I nod.

Olive rolls her eyes with a smile. “Go on. Get out of here and talk to your girlfriend.”

At this point, my face hurts from smiling so much. I don’t have to be told twice.

“Hey,” I say once I’m back in my room.

“Hi,” she says.

I lie down on my bed, staring at the ceiling. “Why’d you call?”

“Annie just told me she’s working tomorrow, so I’m free if you want to do something.”

Of course I want to do something. “Like another date?”

Her nervous laugh fills the line. “Well, yeah. Unless you don’t want it to be. It doesn’t have to be, but then again, if you wanted to—”

“It’s a date,” I say.

“It’s a date,” she echoes.

“So what do you want to do?”

She hums as she thinks. “I think you should pick. I picked the fair.”

I agree because I want to be with her, but I have absolutely no idea where we should go.

The next day

I need help. I want to spoil Margo but I have no idea how to do that. I sit in the back of the library tapping my pencil against one of the tables.

“What’s wrong?” Annie asks.

I let out a sigh of relief. “I wasn’t sure if you’d come.”

She raises an eyebrow and shows me her phone.

Daniel:

SOS come to the library immediately.

Olive comes running up too. Her long hair is pulled back into a high ponytail. “What’s the emergency?”

I tap the table with both of my hands. “I’m supposed to take Margo on a date.”

Both girls give me a look.

“I thought something bad happened,” Olive says.

“Same,” Annie says. She eyes Olive cautiously.

“The date is tonight, and I don’t know what to do.” I’m not good at this stuff. I’m going to mess it up somehow, and I can’t do that.

Olive takes a seat across from me. “Well, what have you figured out so far?”

I rub my face and scratch the back of my head. “Nothing.”

Annie pulls out the seat next to Olive and sits. “Oh boy, it really is an emergency.”

I groan. “I know. I read this article online that said I should take her on a picnic because that’s one of the most romantic dates, but I don’t know if that’s a good idea because it says it might rain. I also don’t know what to make for it. Is Margo allergic to anything?”

Annie laughs. “I was joking. You’re overthinking it. Margo is going to like whatever you decide to do.”

“But I want it to be perfect.”

“Well, what does she like?” Olive asks.

“She loves to dress up,” Annie says. “Take her to a nice restaurant.”

“You don’t think that’s too simple?” I ask. I thought about taking her to a restaurant but that’s what everyone does. I figured a date with Margo needed to be extra special to impress her.

“She’s never been on a date like that before. Every girl deserves to go to a nice restaurant at least once,” Annie says.

“Do I have to dress up too?” I ask.

“Yes,” they say in unison.

Sweat starts to build on my brow. “I don’t have clothes like that.”

Olive hits the table. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of that. We’ll go shopping after school.”

“And I’ll help Margo get ready,” Annie says.

“You guys would do that?” I ask. I don’t know why they’d be so willing to help me. It’s not like I’ve done anything for them.

“Of course,” Olive says. She jumps up. “I gotta go talk to Mrs. Benson about the homework I may or may not have done last night.”

“Who was that?” Annie asks after Olive leaves.

“That’s my cousin, Olive,” I say.

“She reminds me of Margo a little bit.”

They’re both bubbly and talkative. “I can see that,” I say. But Olive doesn’t have the confidence that Margo does. She doesn’t open up to people until she’s comfortable with them.

“She’s nice,” Annie says, standing up.

I wonder if Annie and Olive would get along.

Annie waves. “I’ll drop Margo off on my way to work. Just text me the restaurant you decide on and the time.”

“I will,” I say.

The day drags on because all I can think about is taking Margo out again. When school finally finishes, I rush home to ask Laura to take Olive and me to the mall.

She was supposed to drop us off, but I could tell she wanted to come. I don’t know why, but I asked her to come in with us. I didn’t want to make her feel left out. Besides, she’s offered to pay for the clothes.

Olive runs ahead to open the doors. “After you.”

“Thanks,” I say, walking in.

The store is massive. There’s racks and racks of clothes. Mannequins stand in front of each section, modeling different outfits. Most of the clothes are sweaters and puffer jackets. Even though it isn’t that cold yet, the stores are already getting ready for winter.

“Don’t just stand there,” Olive says. “Start looking.”

I bite my lip, turning but not knowing where to go.

Olive loops her arm around mine. “You’re like a little kid sometimes,” she says, leading the way. She takes me to the men’s section. She walks straight to suits. There are black, blue, and a few colorful options.

They’re nice. Really nice, but they’re so fancy. I’ve never worn something that nice before.

Olive pulls one off the rack and holds it up, eyeing me. “This looks like the right size. Try it on.”

I rub the back of my neck. “Don’t you think it’s a little too much?”

“I think it would look amazing,” Olive says.

Laura hasn’t said much. I notice her going through the suits behind Olive, and she pauses when she looks at the price tag. It’s a subtle grimace that most people would probably ignore, but I know she’s concerned.

I hang the suit back up. “I want something a little more casual.”

Olive huffs. “Casual?”

“It can still be nice.”

“Mom, tell him he needs to dress up,” Olive says, turning to Laura.

Laura smiles. “Why don’t you compromise.” She pulls out a dark blue blazer. “If you wear a nice shirt with this, it’ll be perfect.”

“That’s not bad,” Olive says. “I’m going to go find a shirt.”

I take the blazer. The fabric is nice and smooth. I normally prefer black, but this color feels more like Margo. I like that. The price is a lot less than the suit, but it still isn’t cheap. “Are you sure this is okay? You don’t have to buy me new clothes. I can wear some of the other ones you bought me.”

Laura raises an eyebrow and crosses her arms. “Why would you say that?”

I stare down at the tag again. “It’s expensive.”

“So?”

“If it’s too much, you don’t have to buy it.”

Her face softens. “If I couldn’t afford it, I wouldn’t have brought you here.”

Olive comes running back with a white dress shirt. “I found one,” she says, smiling.

Laura takes it and hands it to me. “Go try these on.”

I take the clothes, but I’m not completely convinced. Laura and Rob have never talked about being tight on money before, so maybe I’m reading into things too much. Or maybe they’re trying to save with a new baby coming.

The dressing room is a little crowded. I wait my turn as Olive and Laura keep looking around.

“Make sure you show us what it looks like,” Olive calls.

I nod with a soft smile.

Once it’s my turn, I lock myself in the dressing room and pull my shirt over my head. I put on the white dress shirt, buttoning it up to the top button. Then I slip into the blazer. I pull it straight and smooth it as I stare in the mirror.

My heart skips thinking about Margo standing next to me. I think she’d like this, and I want to impress her every chance I get. I want to be a better person for her. I want to deserve her.

Before stepping out, I ruffle my hair, trying to picture how it’ll look when it’s styled, but it doesn’t do any good. Olive is probably going to have to help me with it again.

Olive and Laura are both looking at clothes again, pulling random outfits for me to try. I don’t say anything. I’m too busy watching them laughing and smiling as they pick out my clothes. I wonder if this is what it would’ve felt like to go shopping with my mother if she were still here. Would she smile and laugh the same way?

Laura notices me standing off to the side. She gasps, walking closer. “Well, don’t you look handsome.”

Olive squeals, running up. The pile of clothes in her arms is almost overflowing. “This looks so good.”

“Yeah?” I turn to make sure they can see the whole outfit.

“You look so grown up,” Laura says. “Never mind. You’re growing up too fast. I don’t think we should get it.”

“Mom!” Olive says. She shakes her head and turns to me. “Ignore her.”

“I’m joking,” Laura says with a laugh.

I like her laugh.

Olive hands me her pile of clothes. “Try these too.”

“But this works,” I say, touching the blazer.

“You could use more than one nice outfit,” Laura says, shooing me back toward the fitting room. “Go before I change my mind.”

I stagger back with the armload of clothes and a smile. “Okay.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

MARGO

I’m tired, more than I’ll admit to anyone. I want to take a nap, but I can’t. Annie is so excited about my date. She won’t stop talking about it. She’s standing in the closet going through my clothes at the moment.

She takes out a white dress. “What about this?” She smiles.

I shake my head. I love that she’s suddenly decided to become my personal stylist, but I don’t trust myself not to spill on it. “What about my blue one?”

She puts the white one back and starts rifling through my clothes again. She finds it and holds it up. It’s a long, flowy dress with cap sleeves and small flowers speckled across the fabric. “It’s cute, but it looks like something you’d wear in summer. Are you sure?”

I nod. “It’s more me.”

“You’re right,” she says. She brings the dress over and sits next to me on my bed. “So, what’s it like?”

I lie down, hugging the dress close. “What do you mean?”

“What’s it like to fall in love?”

I laugh. “What makes you think I’m in love?”

She lies down too and stares at the ceiling. “Your eyes light up whenever he’s around, and you smile whenever you talk about him.”

“Really?”

“You’re smiling right now.”

I touch my smiling lips. I still don’t know if she’s really okay with me dating Daniel or if she’s just pretending. “Oh.”

She goes back to staring at the ceiling. Her eyes water. “I love you, Margo. I’m glad you’re happy.”

I hug her. “I love you too, Annie.” I want her to be happy too, but no matter how much I try to convince myself that she is, I know she isn’t. She’s lonely. She will be lonely.

Annie hops up, wiping her eyes. “I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be back.” She runs off and my heart aches. I know she’s going to the bathroom to cry where she won’t be seen.

I leave my room and head to my parent’s room where Mama is folding laundry on her bed.

“Mama?” I say.

She’s in the middle of folding a towel, but she sets it down. “Yes, baby?”

“Can I ask you for a favor?”

Mama pinches my cheek. “Anything.”

I step closer and find two matching socks to fold. “Could you reconsider letting us go to the concert?” It’s only a week away, and I think Annie’s suffered enough. I want to do something fun that she can look back on.

Mama sighs. “I knew you’d ask me about that again.”

I reach for a couple washcloths and fold them too. “I owe Annie.”

Mama shakes her head. “You don’t owe anyone anything.”

“I need to do this,” I say. “I know Annie was supposed to learn a lesson, but you and I both know she won’t run off again.”

Mama is quiet, but that’s good. It means she’s thinking. It’s not an immediate no. “I’ll have to talk to Papa.”

I rush to hug her. “Thank you!”

“I didn’t say you could go.”

I squeeze her tighter. “You know Papa is going to say yes.”

She laughs. “You have us all wrapped around your finger, don’t you.”

I let go and race to the door.

“Wait, take your clothes with you,” Mama says.

I circle back and pick up my pile of clean clothes. I can’t hide my grin, and my body bounces with every step back to my room.

Annie is back and going through my collection of earrings, trying to find a pair that matches the dress.

“Guess what,” I say.

“What?”

“I’m ninety-nine percent sure we will get to go to the Broken Sage concert.”

She gasps and her jaw drops. She covers her mouth. “No!”

“Yes!” I say, throwing my clothes down and wrapping my arms around her. We jump up and down like two little kids. Annie is smiling. The corners of her eyes crinkle, and she’s blushing.

I turn on Broken Sage’s latest album, and we sing and dance until we’re falling over from laughing.

This is us.

This is how I want us to be remembered.

Annie drops me off at the restaurant at five. My dress flutters in the wind as I walk inside with a white clutch in my hands. It’s a beautiful restaurant, one with tall ceilings and cloth napkins folded around each set of silverware. There’s a soft glow coming from the lights, but nothing too bright.

“Do you have a reservation?” The hostess asks me.

I nod. “I’m with Daniel Hansen.”

She looks down at the guestbook. “He’s here. Let me show you where you’ll be sitting.”

I follow her into the seating area. Daniel is in the center of the room and stands when he sees me. “Hey,” he says.

“Hello,” I say, smiling brightly.

His hair is brushed back, and he’s wearing a blazer with a button-up shirt and jeans. He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

So I smile bigger, hoping that my happiness will rub off on him. I give him a hug and kiss his cheek.

He pulls out my chair for me and then sits across from me. He opens his menu, but he isn’t reading it. He’s staring at the same item for too long.

I reach across and touch his hand. “What’s wrong?”

He closes the menu. “I’m okay,” he says.

“You sure?”

“How are you doing?” he asks, eyes roaming over me as if he’s looking for bruises. He’s done that every time he sees me since he noticed them the other day.

My head hurts, my eyes are heavy, and my bones ache. “I’m okay.”

The waiter comes over to our table and greets us. “What can I get you to drink?”

“Just water for me,” I say, smiling. This place is nice, and I know that Daniel doesn’t have a lot of money.

“And for you?”

“Water,” Daniel says.

The waiter nods. “I’ll be back in a moment with those.”

When he returns, he sets the glasses down and then leaves so that we can have more time to look at the menu. There are so many choices, and I have no idea what I want. “What are you going to order?” I ask, peeking over the menu.

He’s scratching his head, looking as puzzled as I feel. “I’m not sure.”

I look at the options again. The only vegetarian option is a salad. I doubt that’s what he wants. This restaurant smells amazing and I’m sure he’s as hungry as I am. Salad isn’t going to cut it.

“Maybe you could order one of the pasta dishes. They could probably make it without chicken,” I say.

He nods, but I don’t think he’s convinced. His foot is tapping and there’s sweat building on his brow.

I don’t understand why he’s so stressed.

He reaches for his glass of water, but his hand fumbles and knocks the glass over. Water gushes across the table and spills into my lap. I jump up, and he gasps.

“I’m so sorry!” he says, unraveling his napkin and handing it to me.

In an instant the waiter is back at our table, drying it off with a towel. I pat my dress with Daniel’s napkin, but it doesn’t do much good. The dress is soaked.

The waiter brings me a new napkin and I set it in my lap over the wet spot. That will have to do for now. I’m sure it’ll dry soon, so I don’t mind. Besides, it’s only water. It won’t stain.

Daniel’s face is bright red as he lifts the menus, searching for any way to be helpful. “I’m really, really sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I say. “I’m not made of sugar. I won’t melt.” That’s what my grandma said every time we went out in the rain.

He should laugh, but he doesn’t. His gaze is locked on the menus, then his shoes. He glances at me in between, but never lingers on me. He smacks the table and then tugs at his hair. His foot still hasn’t stopped tapping, and now he’s rubbing the back of his neck with both hands, leaning forward with his elbows on the table.

I reach over and touch his arm. “Daniel, what’s wrong?”

“This date was supposed to be perfect, but it turned into a disaster.”

I think it’s cute that he’s so worried about making this date special, but I don’t need to go to fancy restaurants or eat expensive food to have a good time. “It’s not a disaster.”

“Yes, it is. Annie said you’ve never been on a date like this, and now I’ve ruined it for you.”

I take his hand and hold it with both of mine. “Why do you think it’s ruined? Do I look upset?”

“Aren’t you?” He peeks at me, face flushed.

I smile. “No. I’m here with you.” I run my thumb over the knuckles on his hand. “That’s all I need.”

He eases, eyes softening. He takes a deep breath as his posture relaxes. When he looks at me, his gaze is heavy. All of his attention falls on me, weighted with longing. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“You always know the right thing to say to me,” he says.

I don’t know what to say back so I grin. I’m glad he’s comforted by me, but I know he could be comforted by others if he’d give them a chance. What I say isn’t special, it’s just that he chooses to believe me.

“Can I ask you something?”

He nods.

“What do you plan to do after school?”

He takes a sip of his now-refilled water. He clears his throat and looks off again. “I don’t really know. I haven’t thought about it very much.”

“Come on,” I say. “There must be something you want to do. What did you dream about becoming when you were a kid?”

He laughs. “It’s cliché.”

“So? Tell me.”

“I used to say I was going to be a veterinarian.”

“That makes sense.” I still remember the way he took care of the cat we found. He loves animals. “I bet you would be great at that.”

He shrugs. “I don’t think I could afford the school so it doesn’t matter.”

“Don’t say that. You should talk to your school counselor. I bet there are options for you. Besides, you’re smart. I know if you set your mind to it, you could qualify for a scholarship.”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

The waiter comes back and we order. Daniel takes my suggestion, and we order a pasta dish without meat to share. I don’t have much of an appetite so I know I can’t finish a whole dish by myself. Besides, I want to save what little room I have for dessert since it’s the most important meal, after all.

“What about you?” Daniel asks.

“What about me?”

“What did you want to do when you were little?”

I went through so many different phases. As a kid I said all of the generic answers like firefighter, singer (even though I can’t carry a tune), and doctor. But there was one answer that stood out the most. It was the most outrageous, and I can’t help but laugh when I think about it. “I wanted to be— Wait for it—” I bite my lip. “I told everyone I was going to join the circus.”

Daniel chuckles. “Oh, really?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“What were you going to do?”

I cover my laugh. “I don’t think I ever thought that far ahead.”

All the tension that was here before has dissolved into thin air. We’re laughing and smiling. I love it.

“So you were just going to show up?”

I raise my shoulders. “I guess so. I mean, I’m a quick learner. They could’ve shown me how to use the trapeze or something.”

“Because that’s not hard at all,” he agrees sarcastically.

“Exactly.”

It’s not long before our food is brought out. Garlic and parmesan fill the air, making my stomach growl. Our pasta is already separated into two plates, and the waiter grates fresh cheese on top. He also brings us a plate of French bread that looks equally as good.

I take a bite. The pasta is cooked perfectly, not too soft, and yet the smooth sauce seems to melt in my mouth.

“Do you like it?” Daniel asks.

“It’s amazing,” I say, motioning to his plate. “Try yours.”

He loads his fork and takes a bite.

“Well?” I ask.

He grins. “Wow.”

I point my fork at him. “You chose a good place.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

I take another bite, but this time I try it with the bread. As I expected, the bread is buttery and perfect too.

We eat in silence for a few minutes. I think it’s because we’re both hungry, but it isn’t long before Daniel talks again. We talk about how Laura is having a baby and about the concert Annie and I are going to. Then Daniel mentions how he’s been helping Olive practice her lines for her play. It’s nice talking. It’s easy.

After dinner we share a slice of chocolate cake before wandering back outside. Mama is supposed to pick me up, but she’s not here yet. While we wait, we sit on a little bench outside of the restaurant and enjoy the soft breeze drifting through the air.

“So do you still want to join the circus?” Daniel asks. “Should we add that to the list?”

“Believe it or not, I’ve moved on.”

“That’s a shame.”

I don’t think about what my future could’ve been very often because I don’t see the point in dwelling on something out of my control. I won’t waste time being upset by the things I don’t get to do, but every once in a while, I like to imagine what my future could’ve been like. “I think if I wasn’t sick, I would’ve made a good detective.”

“You think?” Daniel raises an eyebrow. “I know.”

“Do you?”

“You’ve practically found my dad already.”

I watch the traffic; the lights from the cars blur as they zoom by. “I haven’t yet.”

“Well, we meet Meghan tomorrow, and I’m pretty sure she knows who he is.”

There’s been so much going on lately, I almost forgot about that, but he’s right. We have plans to meet her tomorrow after school. “You’re right. She probably does.”

He leans back. “So what else would you do if you weren’t sick, Detective Blakely?”

“Hmm.” I close my eyes and try to picture my future. There can’t be any harm in imagining it once, right? “Well for one, I’d grow my hair out. Super long. Longer than Annie’s. I’d learn to dance and play an instrument. And I’d travel the world to see everything from the arctic to the deserts in Africa.” I open my eyes and that future disappears, so far out of reach that I already forgot what it looked like.

Daniel closes his eyes. “I’d learn to braid your hair, no matter how long it was. I’d dance with you in the moonlight and under the stars. I’d listen to you play whatever instrument you chose every night, even if you didn’t hit the right notes at first. And I’d travel the world with you.”

A tear falls down my cheek because when he describes my future that way, it’s so vivid. It’s beautiful. It makes me wish it were real.

“Daniel?” I say.

He opens his eyes.

I don’t think I’ve actually told him how I feel. I assume he knows, but I want him to hear me say it. “I really like you.”

He touches my cheek, wiping away the tear as he looks into my eyes. He sees me, every bit of me, broken pieces and all. “I love you.”

My heart skips, and my stomach fills with butterflies. I don’t know what I did to deserve him, but here he is—vulnerable and open.

I lean in and kiss his lips. “I like you,” I kiss him again, “and I love you.”

He puts an arm around me, and I rest my head on his shoulder. We’re both content to sit here, waiting and enjoying the simple moment between us. Before I know it, I drift to sleep, dreaming of what our future could have been.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

DANIEL

I made it to the coffee shop long before Meghan. I didn’t want to be late so I took an early bus and waited for Margo to be dropped off. She got here about ten minutes after me.

Margo stands in line, looking at the menu board. “So what’ll it be? I’ll buy.”

There is no way I’m letting her buy me something. “I’m good.”

“Nope. Pick something. Anything. They have great hot cocoa here or you could get coffee.”

There’s something about her expression that tells me I’m not going to win. “You’re stubborn.”

“Caffeine or chocolate?”

“I don’t really like coffee.”

“Then hot cocoa it is,” she says.

“But you don’t need to buy it,” I say.

She waves that thought away and steps up to order. “We’d like one peppermint hot cocoa, and a small vanilla cold brew, blended. Oh, and lots of whipped cream on both.”

The barista smiles. “No problem. That’ll be ten dollars and sixty cents.”

I pull out cash and hand it to the cashier.

“Hey,” Margo says. “I told you I’d pay.”

“Too late,” I say, taking my change back with a smirk. “You can grab the drinks. I’ll get the table.”

Her mouth falls open, but nothing comes out. It’s like she doesn’t know how to react when I do something out of character.

I have to admit . . . it’s fun. I like how big her eyes get when she’s surprised. I love her eyes, period.

There aren’t that many tables to choose from. The place is pretty small, but I find a table near the windows that isn’t taken. I sit, waiting.

Margo comes over a minute later and sits across from me.

I reach for my drink, but she swats my hand away.

“What’s wrong?”

She tilts her head. “I told you I wanted to pay.”

I shrug, looking away. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Her eyes narrow. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“So you’re going to hold my drink hostage to make up for it?”

She sighs, moving my drink toward me. “I don’t know what to do with you half the time.”

The drink looks good. It has way too much whipped cream, but there are worse crimes in the world. “I’ve never had peppermint in my hot cocoa.”

Her jaw drops. “Then what are you waiting for? Take a sip. I promise you, you’ll never drink regular hot cocoa again. It’s mind blowing.”

I take a sip. The chocolate coats my mouth, leaving behind a hint of peppermint.

“And?”

“It’s good.” It’s something I probably would’ve never tried, but I like it. I was worried it would be too sweet, but it’s just the right amount.

She nods. “I know. You’re welcome.”

I sit back, staring out the window. It’s strange watching all the people driving by. Each person is going about their day. They all have their own worries, I’m sure, but I doubt any of them grew up the way I did. I wonder what it would be like to always belong, right from the beginning.

“What are you thinking about?” she asks.

My attention redirects to her. “Nothing.”

She takes my hand. “You don’t have to be scared. I’m right here.” The warmth of her hand calms me.

She’s right. I don’t need to be scared. I’m going to find out the truth—what I’ve been yearning for, and yet, I can’t keep still. My feet tap underneath the table, and I can’t stop fidgeting with my drink. There’s something about meeting someone who knew my mom, really knew her, that has my nervous system imploding. Grandma never wanted to talk about her. It was almost like she wanted to pretend my mom never existed. She said it was better that way. My mom abandoned me, after all.

Margo looks out the window, squinting. “Is that her?”

There’s a woman with soft blonde hair who appears to be in her late thirties walking toward the entrance of the café. She wears a tan trench coat that reaches the tops of her boots. As soon as she walks in, she lifts her sunglasses and positions them on top of her head. She looks around.

Margo stands up, waving. “Meghan?”

Meghan smiles and starts to walk closer. “Hello, you must be Margo, and you must—” Her eyes fall on me, and she stops dead in her tracks, words catching in her throat. “You have her eyes.”

My eyes dart away, trying to avoid the attention by looking anywhere but at her.

She comes up to me and takes my hand, shaking it with both of her hands. “You must be Daniel.”

I nod. “That’s me.”

She shakes my hand for an awkwardly long time before letting go and staggering back. “Sorry, I— It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“You knew about me?” I ask. I thought I was a mistake that my mother never wanted. Why would she have told anyone about me?

“Of course,” she says, sitting down. “I wish I had gotten the chance to meet you before now, but I lost contact after your mom passed.”

Margo sits next to her and takes a sip of her drink. Then, wasting no time, she asks the question I’m too afraid to ask. “So what do you know about Daniel’s father?”

Meghan takes a breath, easing into her chair. “Before I tell you that, I need you to understand why your mom chose to move away when she was pregnant with you.”

I nod, giving her the green light to keep talking.

“They started dating sophomore year in high school, but your dad wasn’t part of the best crowd. At first he didn’t do much, but eventually he became addicted to drugs. She thought she could change him, but he changed her. He’s the reason your mom got addicted too.”

That doesn’t mean it wasn’t her fault. She had free will. She didn’t have to choose that way of life, but she did. She chose it over me.

“Your mom moved when she found out she was pregnant with you,” Meghan continues. “She wanted to get clean. She wanted a better life for you.”

She wanted to get clean? For me? Then why didn’t she?

I feel like Meghan can sense my questions without hearing them.

“She did that for you. She got clean for awhile,” she says.

“My mom wasn’t clean. She overdosed,” I say.

“I know,” Meghan says. “She relapsed about a year later. That’s when your grandma got sole custody of you. She wouldn’t let Ashley see you until she got clean again, and she told me she was trying to. Last she told me, she was six weeks clean.” Meghan’s eyes water. “I don’t know what happened that night.”

This isn’t the story I grew up hearing.

Meghan takes a deep breath. “Anyway, the reason I’m telling you this is because your mom left your dad for a reason. He wasn’t a good person at the time. She knew that as long as she was around him, she wouldn’t be able to recover.”

“And why are you telling me this?” I ask.

“Because as far as I know, he doesn’t know about you. Ashley didn’t want you to have anything to do with him.” She takes a breath. “Now, after knowing that, do you still want to know who he is?”

I feel like this is a trick question. She’s basically asking me if I want to go against my mother’s wishes and find out the truth, or go on wondering who my father is for the rest of my life.

“I need to know,” I say. Why should I do what my mom wanted? She’s gone, leaving me with more scars than she could’ve ever imagined.

Meghan opens her purse and pulls out a photo. It’s the same photo we used to find Meghan, except this copy isn’t cut. My dad is in this picture. He’s. Right. There. My hands shake as I take the picture from her. After all this time I finally know what he looks like. His hair is dark blond. He’s tall and thin, and he slumps forward ever so slightly. He looks like me.

I set the photo down because touching it makes it too real.

“His name is Justin Thomas,” Meghan says. “I looked into him, and from what I can tell, he’s doing a lot better now. He works at a big tech company, and he’s getting married soon.”

I should feel relieved, but there’s an anger building inside me. How can he have such a good life when he’s the reason mine was so awful?

She keeps talking, but I don’t hear what she’s saying. I’m stuck in my head, picturing my dad and what he’s doing now. Part of me wishes I could blend into his life. Would it be hard? Would I be able to fit in with him and his perfect life like I was always meant to be a part of it?

“I have something else for you,” Meghan says, reaching into her purse again. This time she takes out a little paper sleeve of photos, the kind you get when you get photos printed or developed at the store. “Your mom sent me these, and I want you to have them.” She sets it down in front of me on the table.

My fingers linger on the paper sleeve, scared to open it. My mind is cloudy, swimming with confusion and anger and sadness.

Like ripping off a Band-Aid, I open it up, and my chest tightens, anchoring to the ground.

They’re pictures of my mom. My mom and me when I was a baby. Pictures I’ve never seen. Pictures where she’s smiling and hugging me. Pictures where we’re laughing and playing. She’s happy. I’m happy.

I clutch the photos tighter as my eyes start to burn. I stand.

“What’s wrong?” Margo asks.

I don’t respond, and before I can think, I’m running out the door because I can’t breathe. I need air, and I can’t find it. No matter how hard I try, I can’t take in a breath.

Outside, my breathing is ragged as I look around for an escape, a lifeline, but there isn’t one.

I lean against the building, wiping away my tears on my sleeves. They shouldn’t be there in the first place, and yet, I can’t stop them from streaming. Why aren’t these the memories I have of my mom and my childhood? Were we really as happy as we looked?

Margo runs outside and stands in front of me. Her brow is furrowed as she studies me. “What’s going on?”

My vision blurs. The cars passing by on the road are nothing more than streaks of color behind Margo, and she isn’t that much more in focus.

I open my mouth, searching for the words, but they’re stuck at the back of my throat. I hand her the envelope instead.

Margo takes the photos out and stares at them, probably even more confused. Why would seeing these happy photos possibly make me upset? Shouldn’t I be grateful for them? Grateful for a glimpse into the part of my life I was never told about?

She slides the photos back into the envelope. Her fingers gently graze my hand. “Do you miss your mom?”

I shake my head, sniffling. I bite my cheek, trying to stop myself from crying because I don’t like Margo seeing me like this. It doesn’t help, but somehow, I manage to find the words. “My mom loved me,” I whisper. “She actually loved me.”

“Daniel . . . ,” Margo says, pulling me into a hug. She wraps her arms around me, and I cry on her shoulder.

All these years I grew up thinking I wasn’t wanted by anyone, but that wasn’t true. My mom loved me. She didn’t make the right choices, but there was a part of her that wanted to.

She loved me.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

MARGO

We stay there until Daniel calms down, and then we go back inside to thank Meghan for driving all the way here. She doesn’t stay very long before she has to go, and we’re left alone again.

Daniel is quiet, staring out the window, and I don’t know whether to fill the silence or let him stay lost in his thoughts. I know he’s wondering what his life would be like if his mom was still around.

I’m getting restless sitting here doing nothing. I find myself searching his dad’s name online to see what comes up. His name is everywhere. His work profile is the first search result, and what Meghan said is right. He’s successful now. He’s worked at the tech company for the past four years. He’s handsome like Daniel. There’s no denying that Justin is his dad. Anyone with eyes could see that.

The next search result is his social media. I click on it and it’s very clear that he likes posting pictures. There are pictures of his car, beaches in Mexico, and his fiancée. The photo that’s pinned to the top of the profile shows a beautiful woman in her late thirties, if I had to guess, showing off her ring. Her hair is slicked back, and she wears a slim black dress. She stands next to Justin. He’s smiling ear to ear.

I turn off my phone and set it down.

Daniel’s gaze shifts to the phone. “You found him already, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” I say.

“Well? What’s he like?” Daniel asks.

“It’s hard to judge someone from a few pictures.”

He laughs softly. “You don’t like him.”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

I roll my eyes. “He’s not what I expected, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like him.” I push the phone toward him. “Do you want to look?”

He shakes his head. “Not really.”

“So what do you want to do?” I ask.

He sighs, looking out the window again. “I don’t know. I wish there was a way where I could meet him without telling him who I am first.”

That sounds like a challenge, and I like challenges. My mind surges with ideas right away. We could find out where he works? Maybe we could knock on his door, pretending to be salespersons? But there’s a better answer.

“What’s that face for?” he asks.

A grin stretches across my face, and I lean in. “How would you feel about crashing his wedding?”

His eyes bug out. “What?”

“Let’s crash the wedding. We can get dressed up and blend in.”

He scowls. “You make that sound like it would be easy.”

I laugh. “It would be. All I have to do is figure out where the wedding is. I bet they’ll invite so many people they won’t even notice us there.”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on. It’s perfect. You can see him up close and decide whether or not you want to get to know him.”

He crosses his arms as he mulls over my suggestion. “What if I decide I don’t want to meet him?”

“That’s the great thing about this. You can leave at any time, but at least you’ll know what your dad is like. You can have closure.”

“Do you know when the wedding is?” He stares at me, squinting like he’s trying to read my mind. “You do, don’t you?”

“Next Saturday.”

He shakes his head with a laugh. “Of course you already know.”

“I’m Margo Blakely, after all.”

“What about your concert? It’s on Friday,” he says. “Won’t you be tired?”

I’m not about to miss either event. I don’t care how tired it makes me, I’m going to both. “Nope. I’ll be okay.”

His mouth twists to the side and his brow furrows like he doesn’t believe me. “You’ll tell me if it’s too much?”

“I promise.”

His face relaxes. “Okay.”

“So we’re going?” I ask.

He nods. “We’re going.”

I reach over and grab his hand as my heart leaps. I hope finding his dad is what he needs to feel whole. Who knows, maybe that’s where he belongs.

As soon as I get home, I start searching for clues to piece together the location of the wedding. It’s easier to find than I thought. After about an hour I had found a post of the fiancée posing in front of a beautiful ballroom with a caption that read, “I can’t wait to marry you here.” She tagged the location. To my surprise it’s a place here, not Seattle.

It couldn’t have been any easier.

I was a little disappointed that I didn’t have to look very hard. I like puzzles. The type with five-hundred-plus pieces. This was more like a four-piece puzzle meant for a toddler.

Still, I found it. Now, I know the time and the place.

By the time Monday rolls around, I have to force myself to get out of bed. I want to stay curled up in my bedsheets forever, but I don’t want to waste the day.

“Will you do my hair?” Annie asks.

How can I say no to that? It’s one of my favorite hobbies. I love her long hair. It’s beautiful no matter what she does to it. If she’d let me, I’d style it every day.

Annie sits near the vanity and waits. She’s already dressed in a pastel pink sweater and light jeans. In her lap is her latest book obsession. She cracks it open as I start to brush her long locks.

“What do you want me to do today?”

Annie shrugs. “You’re the boss.”

I normally style her hair in braids because it’s easy, but I feel the urge to try something different. I gather the top of her hair and pull it back into a ponytail, and then I spray her hair with heat protectant.

Annie peeks up. “You’re going all fancy on me today.”

I smile and nod as I turn on my curling iron. I haven’t used it in forever. Back when my hair was long, I curled it all the time, but now the only time it gets used is when Mama borrows it.

While the iron heats up, I get dressed. I want to wear something that pops. Maybe if I disguise myself in bright colors, I’ll feel better. Our closet is overflowing with clothes, which are mostly mine because I love shopping. It’s a rainbow of colors, everything from purple to blue to yellow and all the colors in-between.

I’m drawn to the pair of pink overalls in the back. They’re perfect. I’m a firm believer that no one can have too many overalls. I match them with a white shirt that has little blue flowers speckled across it and puffy sleeves.

“What earrings are you going to wear with it?” Annie asks.

I run over to the vanity again. All of my earrings are displayed on a jewelry organizer. “Strawberries,” I say. “Definitely strawberries.”

My strawberry earrings are subtle—my definition of subtle tends to vary from other people’s definition, or so I’ve been told—because these earrings are studs and smaller than most of my other pairs. They’re pink instead of red, and go with my overalls perfectly.

“Those are cute,” Annie says.

I make a face and gesture toward her. “Do you want to wear them?”

She laughs. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I’m letting you curl my hair. I think that’s enough change for one day, don’t you think?”

“One day, I’ll get you to wear one of these, mark my words,” I say, laughing too.

She looks down at her book. “We’ll see about that.”

After I finish changing, I go back to curling Annie’s hair. It doesn’t take very long, which is good because it gives us time to head downstairs and have breakfast with Mama. Then we head to school.

As per usual, I stop at my locker to put away my backpack and Annie heads to the library. Almost as soon as I open the locker door, I’m wrapped in a hug and Daniel’s scent fills my senses. He kisses my shoulder.

I smile.

“Hey, you look cute.” He smiles back. Lopsided grin and all. And just like that, I’m caught in a daze. It’s only Daniel and me, and everyone else disappears. I spend our first period class being distracted by his hand grabbing mine behind the lab table. He walks me to every class after that even if that means running from his class to mine to catch me walking out of the door. By lunch I’m sure the entire school knows Daniel and I are together. Cameryn corners me at one point, demanding details, and I love it. I feel like a regular teenage girl.

At lunch Daniel sits with Annie and me, and somehow this seems like the way it should have always been. There’s no awkwardness. Daniel and Annie are getting along, and we all laugh at each other’s jokes. Annie even joins in the conversation instead of hiding behind her book. It fills me up inside, making me wish it could always be like this.

Olive comes running up. Her long hair flies wildly behind her as she comes to a full stop at our table. She’s grinning from ear to ear. Her eyes find Daniel. “Guess what.”

“What?”

She hugs a stack of papers close to her chest. “I got it.” She set the papers down on the table, revealing a drama title on the front: My Fair Lady. She bounces, so giddy from her excitement that she can’t stand still.

A smile stretches across his face. “Yeah?”

She nods. “I start rehearsals next week.”

“I’m happy for you,” he says.

Olive slides into the seat across from us and next to Annie.

“This is my sister, Annie,” I say, gesturing.

Olive leans on the table. “Oh, I know. We’ve already met.”

“When?” I ask, jaw dropping.

“When Daniel asked us for—”

“Tell us about your play,” Daniel says.

I glance between all three of them and their varying expressions. Daniel’s face is turning red, Olive raises an eyebrow, and Annie laughs behind her book.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

Daniel shrugs. “I’m just curious about the play.”

“Uh-huh,” I say. I lean closer to Olive. “What happened? What did Daniel ask for?”

Daniel tugs on my arm. “No, wait.”

I playfully jump back and cover Daniel’s mouth. “Tell me.”

Olive glances at Annie, who nods, and then back at me. “He wanted advice on where to take you for your date.”

Daniel groans.

I smile and let him go. “That’s actually really sweet.”

His cheeks redden and his eyes dart around. “I’ve never done this before.”

I laugh. “Neither have they,” I say, pointing at Olive and Annie.

Daniel shrugs. “Well, they watch movies about romance.”

I love how he thinks watching movies makes them experts, but to be fair, I’d probably go to Annie for advice too.

Olive turns to Annie. “What’s your favorite movie?”

Annie sets down her book, using her finger as a bookmark. “Give me a genre.”

“Rom-com?”

“Leap Year.”

Olive nods. “Good choice. Historical?”

Annie doesn’t miss a beat. “Pride and Prejudice.”

“The 2005 or 1995 version?”

“Neither.” She sighs. “I wish those two versions had a baby. The 2005 is gorgeous, but the 1995 version is closer to the book.”

Olive’s hand flies to her mouth. “I think I love you.”

Annie rolls her eyes, but smiles.

“Do you watch movies a lot?” Olive asks.

“All the time. We even had Daniel watch one with us the other day,” I say.

Olive gasps, crossing her arms and glaring at Daniel. “And you didn’t tell me?”

We all stare at Daniel, and he shies away from the attention. “How was I supposed to know you wanted to come?”

Olive clears her throat and gestures toward herself. “Have you met me? Of course I’d want to come.”

“Well, why don’t you come over today?” I suggest. Then I turn to Annie. “What do you think?”

“That would be fun,” she says.

Olive’s smile widens. “I can’t wait.”

“Then it’s settled,” I say.

Olive and Annie start talking about which movie to watch, and my heart swells. I’d been so focused on trying to help Annie fall in love, but maybe that’s not what she needs right now. Maybe I need to change my list. Annie needs a friend, and that friend just might be Olive.

Daniel’s phone rings. When he answers it, his brow furrows and his jaw clenches. “Okay, let me know when you get here,” he says. The color in his face drains as he meets my eyes.

“What is it?” I ask.

“That was Laura. She says my grandma is freaking out at the nursing home. She’s asking for me.” He takes a shaky breath and then continues, “She’s asking for me by name.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

DANIEL

“And you’re going?” Margo asks.

I nod.

Margo looks deep into my eyes. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah,” I say. The truth is I don’t know. There’s anger already building in my chest and it’s tainted by sadness.

“Do you want me to come with you? I’m sure I can call my mom, and she’d get me excused from my afternoon classes.”

I don’t know how upset I’m going to get, and I don’t want Margo to see that side of me. She doesn’t like it. She needs to think everything is okay. “You don’t need to.” I know I need to lighten my mood, otherwise she won’t let me go so easily. “Can I still come to the movie night after?”

“You better,” she says, eyes sparkling. “We won’t start without you.”

I pat her hand. “I’ll see you then.”

It isn’t long before I get a text from Laura, and I get ready to leave.

“Goodbye,” I say.

Margo kisses my cheek. “I’ll see you soon.” She avoids the word “goodbye” again.

Laura is waiting for me at the front of the school. I slide into the passenger seat and set my messenger bag down by my feet.

“Hello,” she says. She always smiles a little too much. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and she’s in her typical jogging outfit. “How was your day?”

“Okay, I guess.” I don’t really want to talk for the next twenty minutes, but I know I don’t have a choice. “Olive is going over to Margo’s after school.”

“Really? What are they going to do?” she asks.

“Hang out. Watch a movie.”

Laura covers her mouth. “Olive made a friend?”

I laugh. “She made two. Annie will be there too.”

“That’s amazing.”

I agree. I’m happy that Olive is getting along with them. From what I can tell, Annie and Olive really hit it off at lunch. They both need a friend, so it’s perfect. I’ll worry less about Olive and Margo will worry less about Annie. It’s a win-win situation.

On the drive to the nursing home, we talk about the baby. Laura isn’t showing yet even though she’s already four months along, so sometimes I forget that the baby is coming. Every time she brings it up, I’m surprised. I have to remind myself that soon there’s going to be a little person living in that tiny house with all of us.

“Do you want me to go in with you?” she asks when we get to the parking lot.

I shake my head. “I’ll be fine.”

That usually is enough to get Laura to back down, but this time she unbuckles. “I think I should.”

“It’s fine. Really. I can go by myself.”

“Well, I don’t mind. I need to use the bathroom anyway.” She gets out of the car, and I don’t bother arguing. I don’t think I can convince her to go back.

As soon as we walk into the nursing home, I check in while Laura runs off to find a bathroom. I start my usual trek down the hallway to Grandma’s room. The door is ajar and inside are two nurses who are sitting with her. She’s sitting on her bed with her arms crossed and a sour expression on her face. I knock before pushing the door open and stepping inside. “Hello.”

All three look in my direction. One of the nurses turns back to Grandma and says, “Look who came to visit you.”

I walk closer. “Hey, Grandma.”

She peeks up at me and her face eases up. “I want to go home.”

“This is your home,” I say. I know that’s not completely true, but the house she remembers is long gone. It’s been sold for months.

She gestures wildly in the air. “I want to leave and they won’t let me. Take me home.”

I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I know that if I explain to her that she sold the house and moved in here using her freewill, she won’t believe me. She’d call me a liar. Or she’d remember and be devastated. Neither one of those options are good.

One of the nurses pulls me aside in the hallway. “We got her to calm down a little bit, but she’s refusing to eat, which is why we called you in here. We thought maybe you could help.”

I scratch the back of my head. “I don’t know what you think I’ll be able to do.”

“She’s been asking for you a lot lately.”

“She has?”

The nurse nods. “She doesn’t always remember your name, but she’ll ask us to make sure you get dinner or to leave the light on so you can study. She misses you.”

I find it hard to believe. She probably remembers parts of her old routine. “What do you want me to say to her?”

“Try not to argue with her. Let her know that she’s safe. Maybe you could even offer to eat with her.”

That doesn’t seem too hard. When we go back into the room, I kneel next to Grandma. “Do you know who I am?”

Her gaze falls on me, and she smiles, patting my hand. “You’re my good boy.”

Her good boy? Those words make my stomach twist and turn. Is that what she thought of me? Then why didn’t she treat me better? Why did she make me feel like everything I did wasn’t good enough? Hearing her call me a “good boy” makes me want to crawl into a dark hole and cry.

“Can I take you to lunch?” I ask.

Grandma’s face has changed so much in the last year. I’m not used to the smiles and soft glances. I keep expecting her to go back to her usual stern expressions and remarks, but she doesn’t. She nods, holding out her hand. “If you’re buying.”

I take Grandma’s hand and lead her to the dining area. It’s a large room with lots of tables peppered throughout. We sit down and wait for Grandma’s meal to come. Laura comes and joins us. She hugs Grandma and sits next to her. I don’t think Grandma knows who she is, but she doesn’t mind Laura. Laura is a good talker. She fills the gaps in the conversation that I don’t have the energy to. They talk about the food and Laura’s baby. Grandma shares random stories from when she was pregnant with my mom. I don’t know if they’re true, but she seems to remember the past better than the present.

Grandma doesn’t eat right away. She takes a lot of convincing, but eventually she takes a few bites. She doesn’t like the taste of most foods now. Her favorite part of her meal was the dessert. It’s a slice of cherry pie with whipped cream on top.

After a while I notice Grandma’s eyes droop. I walk her back to her room and help her into her bed for a nap. I ask Laura to wait outside.

Grandma settles into the bed, pulling the blankets up close to her.

I know this is a long shot but I ask her anyway. “Grandma, why didn’t you tell my dad about me?”

She closes her eyes. It’s not fair that she looks this peaceful. She has the ability to forget all the horrible memories and be happy.

“You’re my good boy,” she whispers.

That’s not what I want to hear. “Why didn’t you tell Justin about the baby?”

She frowns, nose twitching. “The baby?”

“Ashley’s baby.”

Grandma opens her eyes and smiles at me. She reaches up and touches my face. “Because I wanted the baby to be happy. I didn’t want the baby to live like his parents.”

I was her second chance. It was her opportunity to raise a kid again, and this time she was determined to prevent the mistakes she made the first time, even if it meant I didn’t get to have friends or have fun. Part of me wants to forgive her, but my eyes sting. This doesn’t make up for the way she treated me growing up.

Her hand is still on my face. “Is the baby happy?”

Tears fill my eyes to the brim as sorrow cuts through me. No. I’m not happy, but I nod to give her fake assurance.

I take her hand and set it down on the bed. “I think you should go to sleep now.”

Grandma nods and her heavy eyes close again.

A tear falls from my eyes, but I’m quick to wipe it away. I wait a moment to make sure she’s settled, and then I leave the room.

Laura is outside waiting in the car. I hop in, itching to get out of here. I rest my head on the window and watch the traffic in front of us as we drive.

“I know it must be hard visiting her like this,” Laura says.

I shrug. “It’s fine.”

“You don’t have to act tough around me, you know.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I say. I’m sure it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see I’m not okay, but I want to avoid talking about my feelings for as long as possible.

Laura nods. “If you ever change your mind, I’ll be here.”

I wish I could believe that.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

MARGO

We spent the evening watching movies and reenacting our favorite parts while laughing till we cried. Daniel was too tired to come over, which was disappointing, but I know he has a lot on his mind. Laura picked Olive up around ten, and now, we’re getting ready for bed. I sit on my bed braiding Annie’s hair so it doesn’t get frizzy while she sleeps.

“You and Olive seem to be getting along,” I say.

“Yeah,” Annie says. She closes her book and turns to face me. “I think we could be friends.”

I know they could be friends. “Why don’t you invite her over again?”

Annie shrugs. “I don’t want her to think I’m weird.”

I laugh. “She’s not going to think that. Daniel says she needs friends too.”

“But what would we even do? We already watched movies this time, and if we do that every time, she might get bored.”

This is the first time I’ve ever seen Annie so concerned about making a good impression. It makes my heart happy. She wants to branch out, but doesn’t know how. “You don’t have to worry about that. Good friends can do nothing and still have a great time. Besides, I doubt you two would get bored of movies anytime soon. Just invite her over and see what happens.”

“I guess I could . . . ,” she says. “You don’t think it’s too soon?”

I shake my head. “Nope. Make plans before you two forget how well you get along.” I tie her hair at the end of the braid and let it fall against Annie’s back. She lies on the bed and covers her face with her hands. “I think I have a friend, Margo.”

I lie next to her and stare up at the ceiling and smile. Annie made a friend, and I couldn’t be happier for her. She did it all on her own too. I didn’t force it. That’s what makes it so much better.

Our doorbell rings and we both jump up.

“Who’d be here this late?” Annie asks.

I have no idea. Did Olive forget something? She’s been gone over an hour, so I have a hard time believing it’s her. We go to the same school so if she forgot something, it would make more sense for us to bring it to her tomorrow. Maybe Daniel? He was supposed to come over after he saw his grandma, but he said he was too tired.

“I’m not sure,” I say. “I’ll go look.” I leave our room and head down the hall toward the door. Annie follows me closely.

I stand on my tiptoes to look through the peephole. Maria Jackman stands on our doorstep, banging on the door. “Please answer,” she calls.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, opening the door.

Maria pants as she leans her hand on the doorframe to steady herself. “Is your mom home?”

I turn to Annie. “Go get Mama.”

Annie takes off running down the hall to our parents’ room.

“What’s wrong?” I ask again.

Maria’s face burns red with tears. “My mom,” she says, trying to breathe. “The baby. My dad isn’t home.” She doesn’t say much, but she doesn’t have to.

Mama comes rushing toward us. She doesn’t stop to talk to Maria. She runs past us and around the corner.

I loop my arm around Maria, and we stagger behind. Once inside their house, Annie sits with Maria and the other kids, trying to calm them down while I follow Mama into the bedroom.

Mrs. Jackman is on the ground, lying on her side. “Please help me get to the hospital,” she says.

Mama drops to her knees and starts to check Mrs. Jackman’s pulse and temperature. “Did you call 911 yet?”

She shakes her head. “I didn’t want to worry the kids.”

Within seconds, Mama is on the phone calling for an ambulance. “Go find towels,” she tells me.

I find the nearest bathroom and gather as many towels as I can carry before running back to the bedroom. I set them down next to Mama.

Mama lays one of the towels underneath Mrs. Jackman. “The baby is already crowning.”

Mrs. Jackman shakes her head. “It’s too early for the baby to come.”

She isn’t full term yet, which makes the situation even scarier, but Mama stays calm. She helps Mrs. Jackman get into a more comfortable position and helps her breathe. Then she asks me to go help Annie. She wants us to take the kids to our house because she doesn’t want the kids to hear Mrs. Jackman and be frightened.

We gather all of the kids, reassuring them that everything will be okay. We take diapers and wipes for the littles and bribe the older kids with the promise of ice cream, and one by one, we manage to get all of the kids out of the house.

Maria holds the youngest, rocking her, in our living room.

“Is Mommy going to be okay?” one of the younger siblings asks me. They have tears in their eyes and their pouty face breaks my heart.

I take their hand and lead them to the couch. “My mama is with her, and she’s going to help her.”

They nod, but there’s still fear in their eyes. “I’m scared.”

I wipe their tears and help them sit on the couch. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

Should I promise? Probably not. I have no control over the situation, but I know Mrs. Jackman is in good hands.

With Papa’s help we get ahold of Mr. Jackman. He’s a truck driver so he’s currently two states away. He gives us the number of the kids’ aunt, who gets in the car right away and starts driving across town. We put on a show and bundle the kids in blankets and serve them ice cream as they wait.

It doesn’t take long for the ambulance to come. As soon as the siren blares through the air, the kids start crying and asking questions.

“Is Mommy going to die?”

“Can we see Mommy?”

“Is the baby okay?”

Maria gets off the couch and runs to the window. I stand next to her as Mrs. Jackman leaves her house on a stretcher. In seconds Maria runs outside and up to her mother. I follow her, knowing I’ll have to convince her to come back to the house with me.

Mama walks next to Mrs. Jackman as they near the ambulance.

“Mommy!” Maria says, rushing up to them.

Mrs. Jackman holds out her hand. She has a tiny baby in her arms that’s wrapped in blankets and wears a little hat that’s too big for it.

Maria takes her hand, tears running down her face. “Are you going to be okay?”

Mrs. Jackman squeezes her hand and gives a feeble smile. “You have a new brother.”

“I want to come with you,” Maria says.

Mama gives Maria a hug, patting her back. “I’ll be with her, but I need you to stay and help take care of your brothers and sisters. Can you do that?”

“But what if something happens?”

Mama rests her hands on Maria’s shoulders. “I’ll take care of her. I promise.”

Maria hugs her mother. Mrs. Jackman kisses her, and then she’s put in the ambulance, leaving us alone in the yard after mere minutes. I take Maria’s hand and lead her back to the house.

The rest of the night goes by in a blur. We watch the kids until their aunt comes to get them. Then Papa, Annie, and I wait in the living room until we receive an update from Mama. After about an hour she lets us know she’ll be staying the night with Mrs. Jackman, and we fall asleep around two in the morning.

I wake up around ten o’clock to Mama coming home. She peeks into our room and I gesture for her to come closer. She tiptoes, trying not to wake Annie.

“How did you get home?” I ask.

“Papa came and got me.” Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail and she wears a fresh pair of clothes.

“How’s Mrs. Jackman and the baby?”

She smiles from ear to ear. “They are amazing. The baby will be in NICU for a few weeks because he’s early, but thankfully there aren’t any other complications.”

I can’t help but be in awe of my mama. When I walked in and saw Mrs. Jackman, I was scared, but Mama was brave. She made sure they were okay and got the help they needed. Even after being up all night, she’s in here, bright and cheery. The event didn’t drain her. It lifted her up.

Whether Mama wants to admit it or not, she needs to go back to being a labor and delivery nurse. I know she thinks it’ll be too hard, but I know it’ll be what holds her together.

It’s hard to explain why I’m happy. We’re just sitting around the living room, but something about it is special. Annie and Olive are arguing over who is cuter—Noah LaLonde or Ashby Gentry. Mama and Papa are in the kitchen cooking while listening to their favorite country station. And Daniel sits next to me, holding my hand and resting his head on my shoulder. Everyone is relaxed, laughing and smiling. This is how it’s supposed to be. It’s how I want it to stay.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” Daniel asks.

“Sure,” I say.

Daniel stands up and pulls me to my feet.

“Where are you going?” Annie asks.

“To get away from you,” he says.

Annie rolls her eyes.

“Hey,” Olive says, throwing a pillow at him.

He catches it, laughing. Then he throws it back. “Stay out of trouble, you two.”

“No promises,” Olive says.

“We’ll be back for dinner,” I call loud enough for my parents to hear.

We walk out the door before anyone finds an excuse to keep us from leaving. I zip up my jacket to keep the fall air from freezing me, and then I look up at the stars. Hundreds of little lights fill the sky, creating the perfect backdrop for our walk. I find Daniel’s hand again and lace our fingers together.

“How are you feeling?” Daniel asks.

“Pretty good,” I say. It’s partially true. I feel better than I have been lately, but I think it’s because I’m starting to feel at peace with leaving. My lungs still burn with every breath and I’m exhausted, but I’m grateful to be alive. I can’t imagine a better way to spend the evening.

“That’s good,” he says.

“Why do you ask?”

He shrugs. “I’m worried. You’ve lost weight.”

“Oh,” I say. I hadn’t noticed, but it’s to be expected. I don’t have the appetite I used to. I hug his arm. “I feel great right now.”

We walk to the park and we both sit in the swings, swaying back and forth. Daniel keeps a close eye on me. I can tell he doesn’t believe me, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Are you nervous about the wedding?” I ask.

He stares down at his feet. “I’m trying not to think about it.”

“Do you still want to go?” I ask.

“I’ll regret it if I don’t.”

I stand, walking closer. “I’ll be with you.”

His eyes soften, and he hops up, wrapping me in a hug. “I know.”

“You know what we have to do?”

“Hmm?”

I pull back, biting at my smile. “We need to work on our cover story.”

He laughs. “What?”

“We need to have a plan if someone asks us why we’re there. That’s what spies do.”

“And we’re spies?” He raises an eyebrow.

My smile widens. “Of course.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

DANIEL

Olive and I take the city bus back home. She talks the entire time, filling me in on all the plans she’s made with Annie. Apparently, they’re going to buddy-read a book and then watch the movie to decide which one is better.

I don’t say much. My head hurts, and my eyes are heavy. I know better than to fall asleep on the bus, so I lean forward, forcing myself to stay awake.

When we get close to our stop, Olive pulls the yellow cord, and I follow her off the bus.

“Did something happen? You’ve been awfully quiet. I know you’re usually quiet, but this is more than normal,” Olive says as we walk down the sidewalk.

“I’m tired,” I say.

“Are you sure that’s it?” she asks.

I nod. “I haven’t been sleeping well.”

“Huh,” she says. “I thought you started sleeping better since Margo.”

I did for a while. If I fall asleep when I’m next to her, I sleep soundly, but when she’s out of reach, my mind fills with darkness.

I don’t reply, and we keep walking until we make it to the house. We go inside and slip our shoes off. The only light on in the house is coming from the office—my room—down the hall. There are voices coming from inside.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Olive whispers.

“I don’t know.”

“They’ve been acting weird again,” she says before walking away.

I knock on the door, and the talking immediately stops. “Just a minute,” Laura says. There are hushed words and a rustling of papers before Laura and Rob open the door.

“I didn’t realize you were home already,” Laura says.

I don’t have the energy to wonder what they’re doing. All I want to do is lie down. “We just got here.”

“Okay,” she says, stepping out of the room. “Did you guys have fun?”

“Yeah,” I say.

Rob holds a stack of papers in his hands and stands up from the desk. “Don’t worry. I’ll get out of your way.”

He said it in a lighthearted way, but I’m not in the mood to laugh. They’re eager to get away and avoid any questions about what they’re hiding. Once they leave the room, I lie on my bed and keep my eyes open for as long as possible. I want to avoid the inevitable nightmare.

We walk in the field of wildflowers, and I hold on to her hand, trying to keep her from disappearing. Maybe if I hold on to her tightly enough, the nightmare won’t rip her away from me. But without fail, the sky turns black. I’m forced to stand still and watch her be consumed by a dark poison, almost like ink, and when it dissolves, Margo is gone.

I jerk away, tears streaming down my face, and hug my knees. My heart aches and my hands shake.

It’s too early in the morning to call her, but I need her. I need to hear her voice. I need to see her face.

I stay awake for hours, staring at the walls until my alarm goes off. I jump out of bed, not caring what I look like. My hair is a mess and I don’t bother dressing. I stay in my sweats. I catch the bus and as soon as it stops at the school, I’m running. I sprint inside the building and don’t stop until I see a glimpse of Margo standing in the hall. I pause.

She smiles. She’s wearing a purple pair of overalls and she has cherries hanging from her ears. There she is. My beautiful Margo Blakely. She’s perfect.

My lip quivers and eyes water as I drop my messenger bag and rush into her arms. I hold on to her, the way I wanted to in my dream.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

The pain in my chest releases as I rest my head on her shoulder. “I missed you.”

She rubs my back, squeezing me tight. “I missed you too.”

“Don’t go anywhere,” I mumble.

“I won’t,” she says.

CHAPTER FORTY

MARGO

The day I’ve been waiting months for is here. I’m finally going to the concert with Annie. She drives while I sit in the passenger seat. She wears the top she’s been gushing over with cute wide-legged jeans. She even let me do her hair. I chose to do two dramatic space buns with bangs framing her face.

I’m wearing a glittery pink shirt that’s bright enough to compete with the lights from the stage. My makeup is very bright and sparkly to match.

In the back seat are our giant poster boards that are decked out in big colorful words. Annie spent ages on hers. I didn’t spend quite as long, but I don’t have the same level of obsession that Annie does. Annie’s sign is practically a marriage proposal while mine says Broken Sage and then I doodled all around the letters to make them pretty.

We have to park ten minutes away from the venue because there are so many people here. We lock our purses in the trunk and only take our phones, some cash, and our posters.

“I’m so excited!” Annie says. She’s giddy, bouncing up and down with every step.

I loop my arm around hers to keep her from running off. “You’re minutes away from seeing Broken Sage.”

She blushes. “I know!”

We practically skip the whole way to the VIP line. We make it through security and follow directions to the area for the VIP meet and greet. The area is packed with thousands of people, and I’m surprised Annie is okay with it. Normally this many people would send her into a panic attack, but she’s smiling widely. This girl loves these boys a little too much if you ask me.

When we get to the backstage entrance where we were told to go, there’s no VIP line. The only person there is a security guard blocking the entrance.

I pull out my phone to show him our tickets. “Hi, they told us to come here for the meet and greet.”

He checks his watch. “You were supposed to be here an hour ago.”

My heart plummets. No, this can’t be happening. This night is supposed to be everything Annie’s ever dreamed of.

“Couldn’t we just go in really quick?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you sure?”

Annie’s face falls, and she tugs on my arm. “Margo, it’s okay.”

I stagger back and we start walking away just as someone rounds the corner and runs into Annie, knocking her off her feet and spilling a large soda all over her shirt.

I gasp as she falls to the ground.

“I’m so sorry,” he says. He’s tall with dark hair and wears a jean jacket over a white T-shirt. He reaches for her and helps her up. He looks her over. “You aren’t hurt, are you?”

She shakes her head. “I’m fine.” But then she frowns looking at her Broken Sage sign lying on the floor. There’s a tear down the middle.

His cheeks flush, and he picks it up. “I’m so sorry.” He hands the sign to her. “Is there anything I can do to make this up to you? Can I get you another shirt?”

“Were you headed backstage?” I blurt out.

He nods.

“Take us with you!” I say. I stand next to Annie, gesturing to her. “This is Broken Sage’s biggest fan. Not in a creepy way, I swear.”

“Margo,” she hisses, elbowing me in the side.

I continue, “We missed the VIP meet and greet.”

He looks at the poster again. There’s a hint of a smile on his lips as he reads it. Then his gaze falls on Annie. “What’s your name?”

“Her name is Annie,” I say.

Her eyes lock on his.

“Okay, Annie. Today’s your day. Follow me,” he says, hurrying toward the security guard.

Her jaw drops.

“Do you know who he is?” I whisper.

She shakes her head. “I’ve never seen him before.”

He marches up to the security guard and shows him a pass. Then he points to us. “They’re with me.”

As we walk past the guard, I smile and shrug. “We’re with him.”

The security guard sighs. “Two minutes. That’s it.”

That’s more than enough time. We scurry to follow Mr. Jean Jacket as he leads us to a room with a label that reads “Broken Sage” in big bold letters.

Even my heart is pounding, so I imagine Annie is on the verge of passing out.

He’s about to knock when Annie grabs his hand. “Wait!” She immediately lets go of his hand.

“What’s wrong?”

Her jaw drops. “What’s wrong?” She looks down at herself. “I can’t meet them like this. Look at me. There’s a brown stain all over my shirt. They’re going to think I’m a disgusting person. I can’t have them thinking that.”

He smiles and nods. “You’re right. We can’t have them thinking that.”

She bites her lip and glances around her. Her eyes roam over my outfit, then backstage, and finally lands on him again. “Let me borrow your jacket.”

He points to himself and raises an eyebrow. “My jacket?”

She nods. “You said you’d make it up to me.”

“I did say that.” He slides it off and hands it to her.

She slips into it and pulls it closed in the front to hide the stain. “How do I look?” she asks, turning in a circle. “It’s not too big, is it?”

“Let me just—” He adjusts the collar. “Perfect.”

She looks in my direction. “Good?”

I chuckle. She’s so obsessed with this band that she doesn’t realize she’s having a movie-worthy moment right now with Mr. Jean Jacket.

“Good,” I say.

“Can I knock now?” he asks.

“Yes.”

He knocks and a security guard opens the door. “Hey, man. Are the guys back here? These two girls were supposed to be at the meet and greet.”

The security guard glances behind him and then back at us nodding.

Mr. Jean Jacket leans into the room. “This is Annie.”

We walk in. One of the band members is sitting in a chair in front of a mirror, and the other two are sitting on a couch in the corner of the room. The lead singer asks Annie what her favorite song is, and I swear she almost faints. She’s so stunned she can’t speak.

“She’s obsessed with your latest album,” I chime in.

Annie nods. “Especially ‘Sunrise Love.’”

He smiles. “Well, it’s a good thing we’re playing it tonight.”

The whole band is nice, briefly letting us take photos and get their autographs. I wish we could visit longer, but the concert is about to start.

The whole interaction happens so fast I don’t notice that Mr. Jean Jacket wandered off until we leave that room. Annie’s face is the darkest shade of red I’ve ever seen. She’s ecstatic, eyes sparkling. She’s practically floating.

Our seats are close to the stage, and by the time we make it to them, the venue lights dim and the stage lights up blue, getting ready for the opening act. Seconds later a guy in a white T-shirt runs on to the stage with a guitar strapped to his back. “How are we doing tonight?” he says and the crowd goes wild.

I grip Annie’s arm. “Is that who I think it is?”

She covers her mouth and nods.

On stage is Mr. Jean Jacket. “My name is Tucker West, and I’ll be opening for Broken Sage!”

The crowd screams again.

Annie grimaces. “Did I just steal a famous guy’s jacket?”

I nod. “It appears so.”

He starts playing his first song. He’s good too. I’ve never heard of him before, but a quick online search tells me he’s a local artist who’s gained a lot of traction lately.

Every time he looks in our direction, Annie covers her face, trying to hide.

Then partway through his song, he stops singing and the music continues. Without missing a beat he looks directly at us and says, “Annie, where’s my sign? Did you forget to make me one too?”

I scream.

Annie’s mouth is on the floor.

“And I’m going to need my jacket back,” he says, winking. Then he jumps right back into singing the song while everyone around us loses their minds. Everyone including me.

Broken Sage comes on next, and they do in fact play Annie’s favorite song. We sing all of the songs at the top of our lungs and dance until our feet hurt. Annie won’t stop smiling, and I can’t stop staring at the joy that lights up her face. During the last song we sway to the music while holding our phones in the air. Everyone in the event center has their flashlights on, and we become a sky full of stars.

When it finishes, Annie squeezes me tight. “Thank you! It was perfect.”

“As good as you hoped?”

She nods. “Even better.”

We don’t see Mr. Jean Jacket again, but the pink hue in her cheeks every time I mention him tells me she doesn’t need my help to fall in love. She’ll be okay on her own. She’ll meet someone one day that’ll give her the perfect love story. Who knows, maybe Tucker West will come looking for his jacket.

I’m exhausted, and every breath is like breathing in nails. My nose bled again last night after the concert, but I hid in the bathroom until it stopped. I didn’t want to worry anyone. I also didn’t want anyone to talk me out of going to the wedding. I worked so hard to find Daniel’s father, and I want to see this through.

Mama and Papa are doing the dishes when I step into the kitchen. Mama is scrubbing and Papa is drying them with a towel before putting them away.

Mama gasps.

I twirl, holding the skirt of my blue dress. “Like it?”

She runs over and kisses my forehead. “My sweet baby girl, you’re gorgeous.”

I smile. I feel pretty. I curled my hair and dusted my eyes with shimmer eye shadow, enough to make them sparkle, but nothing too drastic because I’m not trying to stand out. I’m trying to blend in.

Papa hugs me next. “You look beautiful, Bug.” He squints. “Make sure that boy behaves.”

I laugh. “Always.”

Annie comes into the room. “Are you ready?” She’s not going to the wedding, but she’s my ride.

I nod. I kiss Papa’s cheek and run to the door.

Annie strolls to the car much slower than me. Her hair is in a messy bun, and she’s wearing sweats. She also slept in till eleven. I’m honestly impressed she woke up at all. She was out.

She yawns as she starts the car. Then she turns on the music.

“What song is this?” I ask. This isn’t Broken Sage.

She chuckles. “Tucker West.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

I can’t help but laugh.

“He’s not bad,” she says.

“His face doesn’t hurt either.”

She rolls her eyes. “Whatever.”

I rest my head back, picturing what Annie’s life could look like in the future. It’s going to be colorful and full of happiness. I know it. I believe it with my whole soul.

She hums along to the song because she doesn’t know the words yet, and I drift off to sleep. When we reach the venue, Annie wakes me up by shaking my hand.

“We’re here,” she says.

I sit up. “Wow, that was fast.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Mm-hmm,” I say, smiling big to mask my pain. “Thank you for the ride.”

She studies my face looking for my lie. “Call me if you need to be picked up early.”

“I will,” I say.

She waves me off. “Okay, get in there before you’re late.”

I hop out of the car and walk into the hotel, pinching my cheeks the entire way to bring color into my face.

Daniel is waiting for me by the entrance. His hair is styled back, and he wears a dark suit with a crisp white shirt and black tie. I’ve never seen him dress up this much, but it’s like he stepped out of a fashion magazine.

My heart skips when he smiles at me.

He wraps his arms around me and kisses my lips. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“You look beautiful,” he says.

“So do you—I mean, handsome, that is. You look handsome.”

He chuckles.

We walk into the ballroom where the ceremony is being held. I’m not going to lie, I’m a little disappointed no one asks us who we are because I wanted a chance to use my bizarre backstory. I decided I was a cousin of a family friend. I stalked their social accounts enough to know names if I needed them. Unfortunately, there are at least three hundred people here and no one cares about us.

The ballroom has tall ceilings and large windows. There are rows and rows of white chairs with tulle tied to the back of them and purple flowers everywhere.

We sit in the back row just as the music starts.

Daniel’s father stands next to the officiant. He’s a spitting image of Daniel, just older.

I take Daniel’s hand. “Are you nervous?” I whisper.

He squeezes my hand, and I take that as a yes.

“It’s okay,” I say. “I’m right here.”

A smile pulls at his lips.

The flower girl walks first. She’s cute with a purple puffy dress that bounces as she makes her way down the aisle. Then a bridal party so big I lose count follows. Finally, the music changes and the bride walks down.

She’s beautiful with her elegant white gown and slicked-back bun. When she stands next to Daniel’s dad, they look like wedding cake toppers.

“Hey, Daniel,” I whisper.

“What?”

“Just for the record, I found your father.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” he whispers back.

I control the urge to laugh. I love it when he jokes. He’s always so serious, but every once in a while, he surprises me.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

DANIEL

It’s surreal seeing my dad. He isn’t what I pictured growing up. Even though I didn’t know anything about him, I always imagined him as a guy who wore plaid shirts and baseball caps. This man is prim and proper. His face is clean shaven, and his posture is straight.

He’s nothing like me.

I wonder what would happen if I walked up to him and told him who I am. Would he act like he didn’t know me? Or would he be sad that he missed his chance to be my father? Either way, I know I don’t fit into his world. Wedding or not, I wouldn’t blend into this crowd.

Margo leans against the wall listening to the music. Her cheeks are pale, and there are bags under her eyes. I knew she would be tired after the concert. I wish she didn’t insist on coming. But if I’ve learned one thing, it’s that you can’t argue with her.

She catches me looking. “What’s your plan?”

I look away. “I’m not sure.”

“Are you going to try and talk to him tonight?” she asks.

“I don’t think it would be right to confront him here.” I don’t know if I want to confront him at all, to be honest. I’m afraid he’ll reject me. If I leave without saying anything, I take that power away from him.

Margo’s head dips, and she sways.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, stepping closer.

“Nothing,” she says. Then she fumbles as she grabs my hands and makes a feeble attempt to pull me away from the wall. “Let’s dance.”

Something’s wrong. She’s struggling to keep upright, so I pull her back. “I think we should sit down.”

“No,” she says, staggering farther away.

I follow. “Margo, wait.”

Her eyes meet mine for a brief second before her knees buckle and she falls to the ground.

“Margo!” I yell, racing to her side. I pat her face, trying to get her to open her eyes, but she doesn’t. Her breathing is weak, and her forehead is burning up. “Help me!” I scream.

Everyone who was dancing freezes and the music stops.

My heart races, and tears fill my eyes. I need her to wake up. I’m not ready to say goodbye.

There are people all around me offering to help, but I can’t hear any of them. Their voices are nothing but white noise. I scoop Margo up in my arms. She’s too thin. Too light.

I run.

I sprint out of the ballroom and don’t stop till I’m in the lobby of the hotel.

“Wait,” someone behind me yells.

I can’t stop. I’m ready to head out the doors even though it’s irrational.

“The ambulance is on its way,” they say.

I slow, hugging Margo close. My tears fall into her hair.

Someone touches my arm. “What’s your name?” It’s my dad. When I meet his eyes, there’s fear in them. The color in his face drains. At first I think it’s because of Margo, but he isn’t looking at Margo. He’s looking at me, studying my face like he’s searching for a sign.

“Daniel,” I say.

“What’s your last name?”

“Hansen.”

“You’re not Ashley’s—”

“I’m your son,” I say in a moment of courage.

His eyes widen in horror, and he staggers back. I wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t. Slowly, he shakes his head and leaves without another word.

Pain shoots through me, but I don’t have time to feel betrayed.

The sound of sirens steal my attention, and I rush out the door.

Even though I knew she was sick, I wasn’t prepared to see her lying in a hospital bed with oxygen tubes in her nose and an IV in her arm. Her hair is still curled, and her eyes are glittery, but she isn’t in her dress anymore. She wears a hospital gown. It’s white with blue spots all over it.

Her room is small, especially with all of us in here. Margo’s parents and Annie showed up right away, and we’ve all been here since.

I sit by her side, holding her hand. Her mom paces and her dad sits on the opposite side from me. Annie sits in the chair by the window with a book, but I know she isn’t really reading.

Margo’s eyes flutter.

“Bug?” her dad says.

“Papa?” she says. Her voice is rusty and weak. “What happened?”

“You’re in the hospital,” he says. His eyes are red and puffy, just like everyone else in the room.

Her eyes dart around the room, then her brow dips and she frowns. She stirs, trying to sit up.

“Just relax,” her mother says. She’s standing next to her now, brushing her hair back so it’s not in her eyes.

Margo squeezes my hand. “The wedding. Your dad. I ruined it all.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“But you didn’t get a chance to talk to him.”

I shake my head. “I did.”

She smiles. “You did?”

I soak in the softness on her face. The hope in her stare. I don’t want to take it away by telling her about his reaction. I refuse to tell her about the fear in his eyes or the way he immediately distanced himself. Instead, I smile back feebly, and say, “Yeah.”

“Oh,” she says. “Was he nice?”

I nod.

She closes her eyes and smiles. “That’s good.”

She doesn’t need to know I’m lying. She needs to think I’m okay because I want her to focus on herself. I just want her to be happy.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

MARGO

I hate the hospital. In the pediatric oncology wing, they try to brighten the walls with murals, which I appreciate, but being here is a reminder that I’m dying. I’ve been running from the truth for months, and now I have to accept it.

It’s been three weeks so far. I had an infection, and even though I fought it off, it drained me. My doctors ran more tests and confirmed that the cancer spread farther, and it’s progressed more rapidly than they originally predicted. The infection didn’t help either. I knew it was bad, but for some reason I figured if I kept moving, I could delay the inevitable. I was wrong.

My secret is out now. Everyone knows. My friends from school and extended family have been visiting me. I’ve had a lot of questions about why I kept my sickness a secret, but to be honest, I’m glad I did. It gave me a sense of control.

My parents take turns staying with me every night. Annie and Daniel have both been skipping school. Annie watches movies with me, curled up beside me in my hospital bed, and I have to beg Daniel to go home every other day. He usually sits in the chair next to me, but every time without fail he drifts off to sleep. He’ll rest his head on my bed, near my lap, and I stroke his hair. Every time I do, it reminds me of the day at Laura’s house. It’s hard to imagine there was a time when I didn’t know him.

This time he opens his eyes when I touch him. “Hey,” he says.

“Hi,” I say.

He sits up. “How do you feel today?”

“Better now that you’re here,” I say. I appreciate him being here. I know it’s not easy for him. He tries to act normal, but I can tell he’s hurting. Every day I see him, his face is more worn, and his smile is more and more forced.

It’s rare that we’re alone. My family is here almost twenty-four seven. Today, Papa had to work and Mama ran home to get a change of clothes. Annie is around here somewhere, but she wandered off, probably looking for something to eat.

Daniel kisses my hand. “Do you need anything?”

I nod. “Help me walk to the window.”

Thankfully, he doesn’t argue. He stands up and helps move my IV and oxygen so it won’t get caught. We have to move everything with me, which is a hassle, but I hate staying in bed. I want to feel the sunshine on my skin and look at the clouds.

My hair falls into my face, and I tuck it behind my ears. It doesn’t stay put very long, and before I know it, I’m adjusting it again.

He helps me over to the chair by the window, and I sit, leaning back to take in the view. There are three little birds so small they’re practically dots flying by. I wish I could be as free as they are.

He leans on the chair. “What are you thinking about?”

I laugh softly. “I’m picturing what I’d do if I were a bird.”

“Of course you are,” he says, chuckling.

“It’s a normal thing to think about,” I say.

A smile, a real one, pulls at his lips. “So what would you do if you were a bird?”

I close my eyes. I picture soaring through the air and being able to do and see whatever I want. “I would go see all the things I’ve never seen before, and I wouldn’t land until I absolutely had to. You’d have to tie weights to my feet to get me to stay put. Otherwise I’d fly forever.”

I expect him to laugh at how absurd I sound, but instead Daniel wraps me in a hug.

The days sulk by and every time Mama visits home, she brings back more and more. She’s redecorated my hospital room with pillows and pictures from home. She brought movies and games, but I don’t have the energy for them. I sleep most days, but I like falling asleep to the sound of Mama and Annie playing cards in the corner.

There’s a knock at our door. “Hello.”

It’s Mrs. Jackman. Behind her is her husband and their new baby in a carrier. The baby is so small that the carrier almost swallows him whole.

Mama jumps up. “Oh, hello. Come in.”

Mrs. Jackman smiles. “We’re going home today.”

They’ve been in the NICU since she had the baby because he was so early.

Mama bends down to get a closer look. “He’s adorable.”

“His name is Leo.”

She waves at him. “Hey, Leo.”

When Mama stands up, Mrs. Jackman hugs her. “Thank you for everything.”

I don’t think Mama realizes just how amazing she is. Who knows what would’ve happened if she hadn’t been there.

They spend a few minutes showing Leo off and visiting with us before they leave. It’s time for Leo to be home with all of his siblings. I know they’re all anxious to be together again.

“Mama, come here please,” I say.

She walks over and sits next to me. “What is it, love?”

I take her hand. “You’re happy.”

“What?”

I tilt my head, eyes locked on her face. “You’re smiling.”

She touches her lips. “I didn’t realize that.”

“I think it’s because of Leo.”

She leans closer and brushes my hair back with her hand. “He’s awfully cute.”

“You helped bring a baby into this world and it didn’t make you sad,” I say, remembering what she told me. She said she didn’t want to go back to work because it would be too hard to see babies come into this world, but I think if that were true, she wouldn’t be happy to see Leo.

She pinches my cheek. “I guess you’re right.”

“Will you promise me something?” I ask.

She nods. “Anything.”

“Go back to work for me.”

She sighs, looking away. “We talked about this.”

“I know,” I say. She’s scared, but I know if she tries it, she’ll fall in love with it again. “Try it for a couple months and if you hate it, you can stop.”

She laughs at my stubbornness. “I don’t know.”

“Just try for a little bit.”

She leans in and kisses my forehead. “I’ll think about it,” she says.

I don’t know if she’ll go through with it, but it eases my heart to know she’ll think about it. Even if she doesn’t do it for herself, maybe she’ll do it for me.

Later that night when Papa comes to visit me after work, I have a talk with him too. “I love you,” I say.

He sits next to my bed and kisses my hand. “I love you too, Bug.”

“Go on adventures for me,” I say.

He nods, tears falling. “I will.”

“And take Mama rollerblading again. I bet she’d like that.”

He half laughs. “I bet she would.”

I close my eyes and drift off to sleep imagining them having fun together.

Annie, Daniel, and Olive are in my room. Broken Sage plays in the background as Annie helps Olive rehearse lines to her play. Daniel sits next to me, resting his head on my bed.

I tuck my hair behind my ear, and I notice Daniel watching me.

“What?” I ask.

“Your hair is getting longer,” he whispers.

A smile tugs on my lips. “I know. It almost touches my shoulders.”

He smiles back, staring at my hair a little longer than normal. I want to ask him what he’s thinking, but I’m too tired.

When Laura comes to pick up Olive, she offers to give Daniel a ride too.

“You should go get some sleep,” I say.

He shakes his head. “I don’t want to leave.”

“You can come back tomorrow.”

Olive loops her arm around his. “Come on, you need something to eat too.”

He hesitates, watching me, but then he stands. He puts a hand on my face, sending a ripple down my spine as if it’s the first time, and kisses me gently. “I’ll see you later.”

I smile. “I’ll see you later.”

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

DANIEL

“How was Margo today?” Laura asks as we get in the car.

I shrug. “She’s tired.” I hate seeing her getting weaker. I want to rewind time and spend more with her. It’s not fair that she’s so sick. I thought we had a lot more time, but every time I visit her, I’m forced to accept that she’s leaving soon.

Olive starts talking about her play and a movie that she’s going to watch with Annie soon. Laura listens, but peeks at me through the rearview mirror every few minutes.

We stop for takeout on our way home. Olive eats hers as we drive home, but my food sits on my lap untouched. I can’t bring myself to take a bite. I have no appetite.

“Is it hard to braid short hair?” I ask.

“Not really,” Laura says.

I feel so helpless. I feel like all I do is sit next to Margo, but I want to do something for her. I can’t travel the world with Margo, but I can braid her hair. “Will you teach me?”

Laura smiles. “You can practice on my hair when we get home.”

Olive twists around. “Can I help too?”

I grin softly. “If you want to.”

“Of course I want to,” she says, twisting back. “I want to make sure you do it right.”

Laura laughs. “You don’t think I’d teach him right?”

She raises her eyebrows. “How are you supposed to see the back of your head?”

“Okay, that’s true. Olive will teach, and I’ll model since I have shorter hair than her.”

When we get back to the house, Laura runs to the bathroom to find a brush and a hair tie. Then she sits on a stool and Olive and I stand behind her. Olive shows me how to part the hair down the middle so we can do two braids. She gathers the hair in her hand and sections it. Then she starts to weave it in a pattern creating the braid. After she finishes her side, she has me try the same thing on the other side.

I’m not good at braiding hair. She makes it look a lot easier than it is. I try again and again. Poor Laura sits there for at least an hour as I practice. Finally, I create a braid that’s somewhat decent.

“How’s this?” I ask, stepping back.

Laura stands to look at her hair in a mirror. “It’s perfect. Margo is going to love it.”

“Are you sure?” I ask.

Laura sets her hand on my shoulder. “I know.”

I try not to smile, but I do. I can’t wait to go back tomorrow and braid Margo’s hair for her.

Olive runs into my room at five in the morning. She shakes me awake.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, rubbing my eyes.

“It’s Margo. You need to go right now. She isn’t doing well.”

I jump up and run out of my room. Laura and Rob are up and putting their shoes on. “We’ll drive you,” Laura says.

I nod, finding my shoes. My heart swells. I want to cry, but I hold my tears back by biting my tongue till it bleeds. Margo wants to see me happy. I know that. I will say goodbye with a smile on my face.

We drive to the hospital in silence. My nerves are on edge, and my chest burns with every breath I take. As soon as the car parks, I fly out of the car. I don’t wait for the others. I sprint through the parking garage and into the hospital. I don’t stop running until I’m in her doorway.

I’m out of breath, chest heaving.

I open the door, and my heart plummets to the floor. Margo’s family is gathered around her crying. Mrs. Blakely is almost hyperventilating she’s crying so hard. Her arms are wrapped around Margo. “I’m not ready,” she sobs.

Annie looks up at me and shakes her head.

Margo Blakely, my Margo, is lying in bed, but she’s gone.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

DANIEL

Hot tears pour down my cheeks as I step closer. She’s so peaceful lying there with her eyes closed. Annie steps out of the way, dabbing her face with a tissue.

Mr. Blakely turns his back to everyone, unable to look at her anymore, but he’s crying just as hard.

I stumble forward as the room closes in on me. She looks like she could just open her eyes, but I know I’ll never see her big brown eyes again. I love her brown eyes. I love her. When I touch Margo’s hand, her skin is still warm.

“You said, ‘I’ll see you later,’ ” I whisper, voice cracking.

My head pounds and my tears stream down my face.

Annie touches my arm. “I’m sorry.”

I shake her off, staggering back. I can’t breathe anymore. I open my mouth, searching for air, but my lungs don’t work. My pulse races, my stomach turns, and I have to get out of here. I can’t handle seeing her like this.

I run out of the room, crashing into Laura. She steadies me, holding me up by the shoulders. “Daniel, talk to me.”

My lip quivers as I look at her. “Margo’s—” I can’t finish my sentence. I can’t bring myself to say she’s dead.

Laura puts her hand on my cheek and wipes the tears away, but they come right back. “I’m so sorry.”

She tries to hug me, but I push away from her and run again.

Margo made me feel whole. Now, I feel like half of my body has been ripped away from me. I have a gaping hole where she used to be. I want her to wrap me in her arms and tell me I’ll be okay. I want to listen to her voice. I just want her.

I’m not ready to let her go. She was supposed to be there when I showed up. I was supposed to braid her hair.

Margo was a good person. She loved people. She tried her best to take care of everyone around her.

She shouldn’t be allowed to die.

I bolt down then hallway until I find a spot where no one else is. A corner hidden away from the world where I can sink to the floor. I bury my head in my arms as my body rocks from my sobs. I cry until my throat is raw and I have no tears left.

I’m numb.

Broken.

Lost.

I cry until I’m hollow. Until there’s nothing left but a shell of a boy leaning against the wall.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

DANIEL

Nothing’s the same without her. I go back to sleeping through my classes because it’s easier than staring at her empty seat, and I have to remind myself not to walk to her locker in the mornings.

I get in fights because I want to be hit. I want to hurt from something other than Margo, but somehow being punched is still less painful. It doesn’t distract me like I hoped.

Some days I don’t even go to school. I stay in my bed because it’s the closest thing I can do to disappearing.

Her funeral comes, and I should be at the front with everyone else, but I can’t handle it. I watch it from a distance where I can’t hear a word being said. It’s all too real.

It’s dark and the house is quiet. I venture out of my room to use the bathroom, but I pause when I overhear Laura and Rob talking.

“There’s not enough room,” she says.

“There’s plenty of room,” Rob replies.

“Where are we supposed to put the baby?”

“Olive can share a room,” he says.

“I don’t want my kids sharing rooms.”

Her words stab my heart. She doesn’t want me here. I’m the reason that her kids will have to share a room. I’m the reason they don’t have enough room.

Anger builds in my chest. Part of me thought Laura was different. I thought she cared about me, but my worst fear is true. I’m nothing but a burden to her.

Late at night when everyone goes to sleep, I stuff my messenger bag full of my things and slip out of my room. I inch closer to the front door, careful not to make a sound.

I turn the doorknob and crack open the door.

“Where are you going?” Olive says from the other end of the hall.

I gulp, not looking back.

I step outside.

Olive comes running up behind me. She chases me down the walkway. “Daniel, wait!” she yells as she grabs my arm.

“Let me go!”

Her hand falls, eyes wide as she looks down at my bag. “Are you leaving?”

I don’t answer. I bite my cheek, trying to keep my composure. I start walking again.

She runs in front of me and blocks me. “You can’t leave—”

“Everyone leaves!” My voice cracks, and my hands shake at my sides. Tears roll down my face again. “Get used to it now, Olive. Everyone leaves.”

She grimaces. “No. That’s not true.” She puts her hands on me. “You don’t have to leave.”

She doesn’t understand. I shake my head and push her away. I march down the sidewalk and just keep walking. I don’t know where I’m going, but I don’t belong here. I don’t belong anywhere.

Everything reminds me of Margo, and I need the pain to stop. I can’t handle it anymore. I want someone to hug me and tell me everything is going to be alright, but there’s no one around.

I walk for miles. I walk until I find myself at her grave. It’s too early for a headstone yet, but they’ve placed a temporary marker with her picture on it. I bend down to touch her cheek, and my shoulders shake.

“I’m all alone, Margo,” I say. My tears drench my face. I can taste the salt from them on my lips. I know she wanted me to find where I belong, but I didn’t. I’m more lost than ever. I thought I could handle loving Margo, but it’s more painful than I expected it to be. How could someone I knew for such a short period of time leave me feeling raw and torn apart?

“I miss you,” I sob. My lip quivers, and anger builds in my chest. “Why did you have to love me?” If she had left me alone, I wouldn’t know what it’s like to have someone care about me. I wouldn’t know what I was missing. It would be easier.

“You weren’t supposed to die!” She was perfect. She wanted to travel the world, and she deserved to. We should be running through the mountains in Europe or swimming in the ocean together. We should be planning our futures. She shouldn’t be gone. She was too young to die.

My arms should be wrapped around her. She was my missing puzzle piece. Now there’s a gash where she used to fit, and I won’t ever heal. I can’t be happy without her.

Drops of rain hit my head, but I don’t care. I lie down by her grave marker because it’s the closest to her I can be. I close my eyes and picture her smile. I want to drown in her memory. I replay the first moment I saw her, the way she ran behind me in bright orange overalls. The first time I saw her beautiful brown eyes. If I knew then what I know now, I wouldn’t waste time running from her. I’d surrender to her right away. If I could go back in time, I’d kiss her sooner, I’d hug her tighter, I’d love her longer.

Despite the rain I drift to sleep, and I imagine Margo standing in our field of flowers. She wears her denim overalls and watermelon earrings. She waves at me, and I rush toward her. I take her in my arms, trying to hold on to her tight enough that I can take her with me when I wake up.

“Don’t leave me,” I whisper into her hair.

She pats my back. “You’re going to be okay.”

I shake my head. “No. I won’t be. I need you.”

Margo pulls back, and I reach for her, heart speeding up.

“The world is beautiful,” she says. “You’ll see.”

In a blink of an eye, we’re standing in front of the school at the bus stop. She bends down next to the weed we argued over months ago, but it’s different now. At the top of the plant is a small blue flower.

“It’s not a weed,” Margo says. “It’s a flower. It just took time to bloom. It’s growing somewhere it shouldn’t.” She stands up and puts her hand on my cheek. “Despite the odds it managed to find a crack in the concrete and bloom. That’s pretty cool if you ask me.”

I cover her hand. There are warm tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat. “I’m not a flower.”

She smiles softly, looking into my eyes. “Maybe not, but I know you’re going to do great things.”

“I won’t,” I cry.

She presses her forehead against mine. “You will. I promise.” Then she starts to fade.

“Don’t go.” I reach for her, but it doesn’t do any good.

“Daniel, wake up,” she says.

“No.” I’d rather stay in my dreams with her.

“Wake up,” she says so clearly I almost think it’s real.

My eyes open, and Laura is kneeling next to me in the graveyard. She’s wearing a raincoat, and her hair is tucked into her hood. She touches my cheek. “You’re so cold.”

I jerk away. “What are you doing here?”

“You’re going to make yourself sick out here.” Laura unzips her coat and starts to take it off.

I sit up and grab her arm to stop her from giving me her coat. I’m not about to take a coat from a pregnant woman in the middle of a rainstorm. “I don’t want it.”

Laura sighs. “Okay, you don’t have to wear it. Just come with me to the car. It’s warm.”

“No. I’m not coming.”

“Daniel, you need to come home—”

“That’s not my home.”

Laura’s brow furrows. “Yes it is.”

I push up off the ground and distance myself from her. “No it isn’t. I heard you talking! I know you don’t want me there!”

“What are you talking about?”

“You don’t have enough room for the baby with me there.”

She pinches the bridge of her nose. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Yes it is! I heard you.”

Laura shakes her head. “Get in the car.”

“No.”

“I’m not leaving without you. Now, get in the car.” She steps closer. “I have something to show you.”

I know I’m not going to be able to get away from her. She’ll chase me, maybe call the police. She’s my guardian. No matter how much I want to run away, I won’t be able to until I turn eighteen.

Reluctantly, I follow her to the car, my hands in fists at my sides. I sit in the passenger seat with my arms crossed, staring out the window. I don’t say anything as we drive.

Laura doesn’t either. She turns on the heat at full blast, and drives silently down the road. The only sound comes from the motion of the wipers on the windshield. They move at their fastest speed to keep up with the pouring rain.

We drive for about twenty minutes on roads I don’t recognize. This isn’t the usual way we drive to her house. It’s backroads that twist and turn outside of the city. There are lots of trees and bushes. When she finally stops the car, we’re in the driveway of a house I’ve never seen before. It’s a white two-story home with construction supplies all around it. Half of the house is missing its siding and there are ladders leaning against it.

“Where are we?” I ask.

“Follow me,” Laura says, opening her door.

She walks up to the house and pulls out keys from her pocket. She sticks one of them into the lock and turns it. Then she opens the front door and walks in.

The inside of the house is even more of a mess. One wall is missing the drywall and has wooden beams exposed. Some of the walls have old wallpaper and others are in the process of being painted.

Laura turns on a light and starts walking up the staircase. The stairs creak with every step. When we reach the top, she turns left and stops in front of a closed door.

“This,” she says, opening the door, “is your room.”

The room is empty with light blue walls and white trim. It’s far more finished than the rest of the house. It looks like it’s ready to be moved into.

Laura steps inside and turns on the light. “I’m thinking your bed can go here by the window.” She pauses, rubbing her chin. “Or maybe over there,” she says, pointing.

I gulp. This is my room?

“We can buy you a bookshelf and maybe your own desk.” She smiles, gesturing around her. “You can decorate it however you want.”

My eyes start to water and I catch my breath. “I don’t understand.”

She walks over to me and takes my hand. “We bought this house last month, and we’ve been renovating it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“We wanted to surprise you and Olive. We wanted to finish everything before we showed you.”

My lip quivers as I glance around taking it in. This is my room?

Laura looks me straight in the eyes. “You always have a home with us. Do you hear me?”

I can’t keep eye contact.

“Look at me,” she says.

I take in a ragged breath, trying not to cry in front of her. Slowly, I meet her gaze.

She holds my hand tighter. “We’re your family.” Then she pulls me into a hug, wrapping her arms around me the way I’ve longed for. “We love you.”

The dam breaks and my tears flood. I shake as I cry against her; my chest heaves. I didn’t know how badly I needed to hear her say those words. I’ve waited my whole life to belong, and here Laura is, giving me an open invitation. I thought she didn’t want me, but she was creating a permanent space for me in her family all along.

She pats my back as I sob. “I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

That only makes me cry harder.

“You’re going to be okay,” she whispers.

For the first time in months, I think that might be true. Maybe I’ll find my place in this world after all.

Olive and Rob are waiting in the living room when we get back. I hang my head low as I walk in, ashamed of how I spoke to Olive. I cower next to the door in the dim light, too afraid to look her in the eyes.

She jumps off the couch and I expect her to run to her room, but instead, she walks up to me.

I gulp, prepared to hear the disappointment in her voice. My hand trembles at my side and my breaths shake as I wait for her to speak.

She puts her hand on my shoulder and says, “I’m glad you’re back.”

Tears pool in my eyes. “I’m sorry I left,” I whisper. I should’ve never yelled at her, and I’d understand if she didn’t accept my apology.

She wraps her arms around me, hugging me tightly. “You came back. That’s all that matters.”

My breath hitches. I’m ready to cry again because I don’t deserve Olive, but I’m so glad she’s here.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

DANIEL

Two weeks later

It takes time to heal. It doesn’t happen overnight no matter how much we’d like it to. My heart is still sore, but I’m trying to see the world from Margo’s perspective. I’m trying not to see weeds. I’m trying to see flowers.

The doorbell rings, and I jump off my bed to go answer it. Annie stands on the other side with her long hair in two braids.

My heart stops when I catch a glimpse of the cherry earrings she’s wearing. They’re Margo’s earrings.

I clear my throat. “I’ll go get Olive.”

“I’m actually here to see you,” she says.

I tilt my head. “Me?”

She nods. “I have something for you.” She fishes through her purse and pulls out a small wrapped package. It’s bright and covered in colorful stripes. She holds it out to me. “Margo wanted me to give this to you.”

I take the package. “What is it?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. She wouldn’t tell me, but you knew Margo. Gifts were what she did best.”

I don’t know what to say. Part of me wants to open it right away, but the other part of me is scared.

“Well, I have to get going,” Annie says. “But I’ll see you around.”

“Thank you,” I say, lifting the package.

She smiles softly. “No problem.”

When I get back to my room, I sit on my bed and stare at the package for at least ten minutes before I’m brave enough to open it. I peel the wrapping paper off carefully and set it aside. Inside is a brand-new Jules Verne book.

Gingerly, I thumb through the pages. The perfect margins stare back. My heart skips when I get to the first page and notice the note from Margo:

Dear Daniel,

Fill these margins with all the things that make you happy. Write about your favorite memories and all the adventures you have. Write down your greatest dreams, but don’t keep them hidden away in this book. Don’t be afraid to chase them. Say them out loud.

The world is ready to meet you.

Love,

Margo

I know what I’m going to write first. I know what made me the happiest, what my favorite memory is. It’s Margo. Whether she meant for it to be or not, this book will be about her.

EPILOGUE

Laura grips Rob’s arm and grimaces. Olive stands on her other side, her hand on the small of Laura’s back as we walk through the parking lot. “We’re almost there.”

I follow close behind carrying two large bags filled to the brim with everything she could possibly need for the hospital stay.

Laura cries out. “Wait!”

Everyone stops as she cradles her belly.

She breathes in and out until the contraction passes. Then we make our way to the hospital entrance. Quickly, they get her checked in and get her settled into a room.

A nurse comes in, and I immediately recognize her as Mrs. Blakely. She smiles when she realizes who we are. “How are you?”

Laura tries to laugh. “I’ve been better.”

Mrs. Blakely walks to Laura’s side. “You’re doing amazing.” She takes her vitals and helps her get as comfortable as possible. She even gets Laura to laugh between contractions.

When Laura’s ready to push, Olive and I go to the waiting room.

“Are you nervous?” I ask.

Olive bites her lip and nods. “What if I’m not good at it?”

“Good at what?”

She sighs. “Being a sister.”

“Are you kidding me? You are going to be great at it.”

She raises an eyebrow. “How do you know?”

“I think of you like a sister,” I say. I look away, afraid to see her reaction. What if she thinks that’s weird?

She latches on to me, squeezing me so tight I think I might suffocate. “Do you mean that?”

I push her back. “Don’t make me regret it.”

She swats my shoulder lightly. “Siblings are supposed to annoy each other. It’s healthy.”

I laugh. “If you say so.”

As we wait, I get a text message from a number I don’t recognize.

Olive peers over my shoulder. “Who’s that?”

My heart leaps. “I think it’s from my dad.”

Her eyes grow big. “Like your dad dad? The one that made you?”

I laugh. “Yeah, that’s the one.”

“What does he want?”

I glance at the long message. He must’ve gone through a lot of work to find my number. He probably had to track Meghan down just like we did. “He wants to meet.”

“Are you going to do it?” Olive asks.

If he went through all this trouble to find me again, maybe it’s worth giving him a second chance. “I think so.”

After a few hours Rob comes into the waiting room. He’s grinning ear to ear. “It’s a girl.”

Olive jumps up and runs over to her father. “Really?”

He nods. “Want to come meet your new sister?”

Olive grabs my arm. “Let’s go!”

When we enter the room, Laura is lying in bed with a little baby in her arms. The baby is swaddled in a little pink blanket and wears a white hat to cover her head. Laura gestures for us to come closer.

“This is Greta,” she says. “Short for Margaret.”

I catch my breath, eyes roaming the room until they meet Mrs. Blakely’s. She smiles, eyes glistening.

She nods as if she’s telling me it’s okay.

The baby cries, stealing my attention back. Laura holds Greta closer to her chest and rubs her back. “There, there,” she says.

Greta settles down, and I watch every move she makes in awe. She’s so tiny, but I know she’s going to have a big effect on our lives. Nothing will ever be the same, but that’s what life does. It changes, and all you can do is move forward.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

If you’ve made it to the end of this book, thank you so much for reading it! I’m still in awe that so many people have taken a chance on my stories.

I fell in love with Margo and Daniel, and I hope you did too. Their story will always have a special place in my heart, but their story wouldn’t be here without the help of some incredible people.

I want to thank my husband who once again listened to me for hours on end as I worked through the plot and characters. You’re amazing <3

I also want to thank Emily, my amazing critique partner! You saved this book! The story became 1,000% stronger after you read it and gave me feedback. I will forever be grateful!

Thank you Sarah, my phenomenal editor! You helped me turn my words into something professional and beautiful. You put so much effort into my book to make sure it’s the best it could be. You truly cared about my story and characters, and I’m so grateful I had the opportunity to work with you.

And thank you Natalie, for proofreading the book and catching the last few typos! (@natsproofandedits)

ALSO BY JASMINE LITTLE

If We Say Goodbye is a book about a girl learning to navigate grief while falling in love for the first time.

Available on Amazon

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jasmine Little is an author, photographer, and Mom. She enjoys writing stories that are emotional and full of love. She lives in the beautiful PNW with her family, and when she’s not writing, she can be found binge watching K-dramas or trying out new recipes in the kitchen.