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“Evie!”

My eyes snap open and I’m horrified to realize that my mom is standing in the doorway, looking completely stricken. “Oh, God, Mom—that wasnotat you, I promise. One hundred percent talking to myself. Didn’t even realize you were there.”

She nods and walks over, ice pack in hand, and sits on the edge of the bed, wrapping it around my ankle. “Sounds like you might need to be kinder to yourself, then, too.”

“Trust me,” I mutter, staring up at the ceiling, “my brain deserves it. It’s being very, very stupid.”

“You, Evie, are a lot of things, but stupid is not one of them.” She reaches over to stroke my hair, and my eyes instinctively flutter shut. It’s exactly the touch I’ve been craving, and it isn’t something she does often. My hair does not look inherently strokeable, and my mom isn’t particularly physically affectionate, at least not with me. “You’ve been having a hard time, haven’t you.”

I inhale a deep, shaky breath, willing myself not to cry as I nod.

She presses a kiss to the top of my head. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Just a hug, please,” I mumble into her shoulder, and as she wraps her arms around me, I let myself melt into her until I can finally breathe.

Chapter Seventeen

EVENTUALLY, I FILL HER INon the basics, ignoring the smile playing on her lips when I tell her that I might like a boy. As if on cue, my phone buzzes with a message from Claire, begging me to send her an update on The Guy, and my mom leaves so I can chat with her. Much as I hadn’t wanted anyone to see me like this, as soon as I tell her that I’m home for an appointment and she asks if she can come over, I say yes without any hesitation.

I have really, really missed my best friend.

It seems she missed me too, because twenty minutes later, we’re chatting on my bed like nothing has changed. “Wait.” I curl my fists in the blanket to stop myself from flailing. “Lowen told you they like you on aPost-it Note?”

“It was cuter than it sounds!” she insists, whacking me with a pillow. “It was very sweet and very brave and you donot get to mockanyone,considering you have not told Salem in any way at all.”

“That’s different,” I grumble. “And we are not talking about it. So tell me what else I’ve missed.”

“Well, you can probably guess the biggest news around school…”

“Tell me what I missed thatdoesn’thave anything to do with my sister. Or Craig. I don’t need to know a thing about what he’s up to.”

“Good. Trust me—that boy remains trash.” Claire takes a drink of water from the purple Nalgene she carries everywhere. “But Oscar and Vivien broke up, and then got back together, and then broke up again when she found out he hooked up with Kaya while they were broken up. Oh, and Mrs. Taber got knocked up again. She’s leaving at the end of the semester.”

“Remember last time, when she said she wasn’t coming back?”

“Pretty sure she means it this time,” she says with a grin. “Oh, and my cousin Angi got engaged.”

“Angi of the sublime mac ’n’ cheese?”

Claire throws back her head and laughs, and I wish I could bottle up the sound and take it to Camden with me. “She willlovethat that’s how you know her, oh my Lord. Anyway, that’s about it. You already saw all the art from my show, and I have another one coming up in the spring. Otherwise, you haven’t missed much. Frankly, your life at boarding school sounds way more interesting. Or itwouldif you’d tell the boy how you feel.”

“How Imaybefeel,” I amend stiffly, because part of me is clinging to the idea that this is some sort of temporary brain blip, confusion born of a combo of his surprising talent and even more surprising caretaking.

Judging by the roll of her big brown eyes, Claire’s not buying it. “Do you miss him?”

Shockingly badly.“People miss their friends,” I say defensively. “Hell, I missedyou.A lot.”

She takes one of my hands, squeezes it. “I missed you too, Eves. Let’s not do this again.”

“My doctor’s appointment isn’t until one, so I’ll still be here tomorrow afternoon. Dunkin’ run after school?”

“It’s a date.” She leans over to give me a hug, every bit as warm as I remember. “I should get home, but just FYI, I’mgoingto need an update when you talk to that boy, and I’ll point out that if you’re nervous about talking to him face-to-face, I’m pretty sure you’ve got his number in your phone.”

“Or I could just leave him a message on a Post-it.”

“Shutup.” She whacks me with a pillow again as I crack up, and I don’t mind it at all.

Claire’s comment about calling Salem is still ringing in my head an hour and two episodes of cheesy TV later. Avoiding having to look at him when I say somethingistempting, but avoiding the issue entirely sounds even better.