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You’ve got to love the chaos of a big group location change. There are a few false starts at first—like when Edith realizes

she left Zora’s cat plushie in the multipurpose room, or when two girls shyly approach Walter to ask for a selfie. The diner’s

walking distance, thankfully, so there’s no coordinating with cars. But even the walking part is kind of wonderfully awkward,

since we pretty much commandeer the entire sidewalk.

By the time we reach the edge of campus, though, we’ve split off into smaller clusters. Tessa, Walter, and Mark take the lead,

while Imogen, Edith, and Zora drift a few feet behind them.

I hang back with Nat. She’s gone weirdly quiet again, but it’s not just the shy kind this time.

“Okay, what’s up?” I nudge her sideways. “I know you’re upset about something.”

“Um... no? I’m not.”

“Nope. Don’t believe you. I know you, okay? Longtime fan here. Very familiar with the Natalie Rosemann-Long cinematic mood-iverse—”

She laughs a little. “It’s called being in a bad mood. Is that allowed?”

“Wait.” I sneak a peek at her profile. “Did something happen?”

She shakes her head.

“No, for real—”

“Nothing happened!”

“Then why,” I poke her cheek, “are you in a bad mood?”

“Because people have bad feelings sometimes, and it’s fine?” She smiles a little. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

“But if you don’t tell me why you feel bad, I can’t fix it!”

“I don’t want you to fix it!” She laughs, but it’s sharp around the edges. “You don’t have to do your whole Amelia thing,

okay? I don’t need you to bury every stupid feeling with jokes and distraction and—I don’t know. The whole schtick.”

I laugh incredulously. “You think I do that?”

“Okay, here’s a question. When was the last time you were just, like, totally chill with someone being angry?”

“Oh.” I blink. “Are they angry at me, or in general?”

“Either. You know what? Doesn’t even have to be anger. How about plain old grouchiness? Seriously, how long could you go without

swooping in to cheer them up?”

“Wow.” I step over a crack in the sidewalk. “Didn’t know that was a bad thing.”

“It’s not!” She pauses, biting her lip. “Sorry, I’m not saying it’s bad. It’s just—sometimes you just have to live with the

fact that people feel shitty or sad or angry or—you know. Whatever.”

“Okay, counterpoint.” I shoot her a quick, sideways smile. “Mark’s very existence proves I’m able to tolerate grumpy people—”

“You’re doing it!” She points at me. “Right now. You’re uncomfortable, or you’re feeling tension—whatever, so now you’re sliding

in with a joke.”

“It’s not a joke! Mark’s so grumpy—”

“Fine! He’s grumpy. But.” She turns to face me, with this quiet half smile. “Why is he allowed to be grumpy and sad, but I’m not?”

My breath catches so sharply, I can’t even speak for a moment.

Why is he allowed

But I’m not

I squeeze my eyes shut. Why—

Because I can’t even think straight when it’s you. Because when you’re sad, I can feel it.

“I don’t know,” I say, finally. “Sorry, I’m just. I don’t understand what happened. You seemed fine back there. At the student

center. I thought—”

“No. You’re—sorry. I’m sorry. I think I’m just hungry.” She tugs my cardigan sleeve. “Let’s catch up, so Mark doesn’t hog

the pancakes.”