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“Harvard.” I zip the skirt.

“Think you’ll get accepted?”

“I’ll only know if I apply, and that isn’t likely to happen if I’m distracted thinking about Roman.”

“You know, you two could always fill out the applications together.” She sighs like that’s the most romantic notion on earth.

I hate to admit I like the way she thinks, so I change the subject. “How are things with Jackson?”

“We’re gonna break up.” Ivy’s tone sours. “It’s just a question of who dumps who.”

“That bad?” I peer into my vanity mirror and bemoan my hair, which is sticking out in every direction. Too late to wash it. “What happened?”

“We never text anymore, and when we talk, it always ends up in an argument. Always. Last night, we fought about who would make it into the Super Bowl. How lame is that? Maybe you can talk Roman’s best friend into dating me.”

“You make it sound like Roman’s my boyfriend. It’s not going to happen.” I pull my hair into a bun. Still messy, but at least it looks like I meant it that way. “And besides, maybe you can work it out with Jackson. You like him too much to give up so easily.”

“Let’s talk at school. Mom’s on my case to get out the door.”

I glance at the time. Definitely running late. “Okay. See you there.”

We end the call, and I apply some eyeliner. I don’t know why I try. With my strawberry blonde hair, super pale skin, and freckles, there’s no way Roman even knows I’m alive much less has any interest in me. There’s nothing interesting about me.

Why did Ivy have to say anything about it? Now that’s all I’m going to be thinking about.

I add some mascara and lipstick. Not really much of an improvement.

Knock, knock!

“I’m almost ready!” I rub in my foundation. Should’ve done that first. I suck at this. Ivy would be so disappointed.

“You want me to make you a green juice, hon?” Mom calls.

“Yeah, thanks!” I’m glad she’s offering to help instead of chewing me out for running late.

I finish getting ready, stuff my books into my backpack, then head downstairs. And I’m thinking about Roman Lewis instead of the track meet. I need to think about that. And the Spanish test. My applications too. I need to forget about him. How ridiculous—Roman and me. As if that’d ever happen.

I skid to a stop in the kitchen.

My dad is sitting in his place at the table, sipping coffee. Should’ve left hours ago. He nods at a cup filled with green juice. “Sit, Marra.”

His tone sends a shiver down my spine. It’s made worse by the fact that he’s here and not at work.

Mom’s eyes are red, like she’s been crying. She won’t look at me, which makes me think she doesn’t want me to know how upset she is.

My heart skips a beat and I try to figure out what’s wrong. I hold out hope that it isn’t too bad, and I pretend not to notice her. “Can this wait? I’ve got a Spanish test today and my track meet this afternoon. College applications when I get home.”

Dad’s brown eyes look yellow for a second before turning back. Maybe I imagined it. He sets down his mug. “We need to talk now.”

I nearly choke on my juice. “Why?”

Mom sits at her spot, keeping her gaze down. Dad stares at me.

“Sit.” Dad has such an air of authority. His eyes narrow, but not like he’s mad. Just warning me.

Pulse pounding, I sit. My brain scrambles to figure out what they’re not telling me.

“Nobody’s sick, are they? You’re not dying, are you?” I glance back and forth between the two of them. There’s no way I can handle losing someone else. I look at the empty chair and my heart aches. “What’s going on?”