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“Do you need me for anything else?” I ask once I’m done dusting.

Mom stares at me, her eyebrows knitted together, like she’s trying to figure me out. “No. You’re free to go. I won’t even ask you to clean your room.” She cracks a smile and for a split second, I see the mom who held my hand on my first day of kindergarten. The one who endured my weird crush on SpongeBob SquarePants by watching it alongside me, on repeat. The mom who slept next to me in bed every night for a month after Dad walked out on us.And then swiftly made me get fitted for a night guard because, apparently, I grind my teeth in my sleep.

“Good. Because I wasn’t planning on it,” I say, cracking my own miniscule smile. I stall, trying to melt some of the ice between us. “I’m going to grab something to eat. Want anything?”

“I’m fine. Drive safe,” she says before crouching down and polishing the stainless steel base of her chair.

I nod and head back upstairs.

Just as I’m about to walk out the front door, I catch my reflection in the hallway mirror. What’s so wrong with me that Ben had to end our relationship days before senior year? I’m a solid 8.5 and stand out in that mixed-race kind of way. My dad and his family have been here for multiple generations by way of England. Mom’s a first-generation child of Palestinian immigrants. Together they had me: a tall, dark-haired, olive-skinned girl with light-brown eyes. Aside from that, I’m highly intelligent. What more could Ben want?

So maybe I don’t really have any talents outside of being able to read fast and ace tests. I just never spent much time focusing on other things. As early as I can remember, Mom lamented how much she wished she had gone to university and how her life would be different (a.k.a. better) if she’d had a “proper” education. That’s the one thing I’ve taken from her: the drive to be successful. Ben saw that drive and encouraged it even more.

I close the front door behind me. It’s barely eight but it’s already dark, another sign summer is almost over. This is usually my favorite time of year. A fresh start looming, the promise of great things, but tonight the violet-tinged sky just makes me want to lay flat on the grass and cry. But I’m tired of crying over men.

Parked outside the drive-thru, I down my cheeseburger, medium fries, and water (because health). I’m not ready to go back home.Home.Even saying that feels like a cheat. It’s not the home I grewup in. Sometimes I feel like a squatter, especially when Eli rags on me for my messy room. What did he even mean by saying my room was a reflection of my true self?

I’ll just drive around listening to sad music until I’m ready to go hide in my room, and if I happen to pass Ben’s house and if his lights happen to be on, then maybe I’ll walk myself up to his front door. He may find it hard to resist me under the night sky and in the late summer breeze.

I turn the corner onto Varley Crescent, mentally preparing what I’m going to say when I ring Ben’s doorbell, and a baby-blue BMW convertible catches my eye. It’s parked in front of Ben’s house. I don’t recognize that car as belonging to anyone in Ben’s family or extended family. I would know. Ben’s house is like my second home. What’s more annoying is that this baby-blue eyesore is parked where I usually park my car.

I slow down to study the BMW. As my car crawls past Ben’s house, his front door opens and a girl steps outside. Her face is covered by a dark shadow, but her shoulder-length black hair is shiny even at night. She’s a tiny little thing with a snatched waist.Who is this?Probably the owner of the obnoxiously colored car. Ben joins her a second later, shutting the front door.

I lower my music and open the window, hoping to hear something, anything, to help me figure out who this is. I’d like to believe this is some sort of door-to-door evangelist or Girl Scout, but my heart tells me it’s something else. The ease between Ben and this person. Their proximity. I’ve studied Ben for years. This girl is more than just some random person or friend. She’s standing in my spot, in front of my boyfriend, tilting her head in the same flirtatious way I used to.

I flick off my headlights so as not to draw any attention to me or my car. Laughter travels from Ben’s porch into my front seat, and my stomach sinks like a million bricks. That’s a laugh I’venever heard come out of Ben’s mouth before. With my foot on the brake, I crank my neck to get a better view as Ben dips his head down to kiss the girl. Ben Cameron is kissing another girl. I slam my hand into the steering wheel and the horn sounds.Damn it!Ben and the girl turn their heads in my direction. I lay my foot on the gas pedal, heart pounding out of my chest as my car surges forward.

About three seconds into my great getaway, and not even three houses down, I come into contact with something that causes my car to bump up and down.Shit.The loud thump has me crossing my fingers I didn’t hit a person…or worse, an animal. With my heart up in my throat, I put my car into park and swallow.Please don’t be a dog. Please don’t be a dog.

I step out slowly, pulse pounding as I will myself to look in front of my car.

A bike.

I ran over a stupid bike. Thank god!

“Hey!” a voice calls from the driveway. “You ran over my bike.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t see it,” I say, studying the wreckage.

“No shit. Your lights were off.”

I turn back to check if Ben saw me run over this person’s bike, then whip my head toward the silhouette on the driveway. “Would you keep your voice down?”

“What for?” he asks, his voice rising. The person, who appears to be around my age, crouches. “Aww man. You destroyed Betty White.”

“You named your bike Betty White?”

“First you run over Betty White, then you make fun of her name?”

Is this guy for real?

“Why is it parked on the road anyway?” I ask.

“It wasn’t. It was on my lawn.”

I squat to study my car more closely and find the right front wheel perched atop the curb in front of this person’s house.

“Are you high?” he asks. I stop staring at the carnage and turn my attention back to the person attached to the annoying voice. Huh. Not what I expected. I figured it would be some scrawny skater boy but he’s…well, he’s not scrawny. He looks like the kind of guy who’d be in a Netflix teen romance. Not the guy the main character falls in love with, but that guy’s obnoxious best friend.