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I hate it here in Long Island.

I don’t have any friends. I mean, not real friends. There are girls that I eat lunch with, and they are nice to me, but nothing like my old friends back home. Hunter bothers me almost every day in Library. Nico barely speaks to me, and he keeps getting in trouble at school.

I don’t need a whole year to decide. I hate it already and I always will. I wonder if I have to wait the full year before asking to go back.

Oh, who am I kidding? We are never going back. We will live here forever.

I lie in the dark of my room, trying to fall asleep. There was a time in my life, like when I was a little kid, when it was easy to sleep. I don’t remember lying awake when I was in kindergarten. But now it seems like every night, I can’t sleep. I just stare at the ceiling every night. And the cracks in the ceiling aren’t even interesting—I miss Constance.

Finally, I get out of bed and walk over to the window. One thing that’s nice about living here is how clear and pretty the sky is. You can always see the moon and lots of stars. It’s still not worth it though.

When I look out the window, my gaze falls on the house next door to ours. Number 12 Locust Street. The lights are out in the house, but somehow I see movement in the windows. I can’t tell what room that is—the bedroom?

I can’t stop thinking about what happened at the beach. There’s something funny going on with the family next door. Why does Nico hate the Lowells so much? It’s so weird.

I hear a noise behind me. It’s a knock at the door. I run back to my bed, not wanting Mom or Dad to catch me wandering around my room in the middle of the night. I’m not sure if I should pretend to be asleep, but they probably hear me moving around, so I call out, “Come in.”

Slowly, the door cracks open. I blink in the darkness, not sure if I’m seeing right.

It’s Nico. And he’s holding a sleeping bag.

“Can I sleep here tonight, Ada?” he asks me.

“Sure,” I say. “Of course you can.”

I keep the lights out, but both of our eyes have adjusted to the dark. Nico lays his sleeping bag down on the floor next to my bed. Then he crawls inside. I lie down in my own bed.

“Good night, Nico,” I say.

“Good night, Ada.”

But I don’t close my eyes. I look over at Nico in the sleeping bag, and he is looking at me too.

And that’s when I notice his eyes are wet.

“Nico?” I say.

Except he doesn’t answer right away because he can’t stop crying. But after a few minutes, he tells me everything.