Hearing Charlotte’s name pained me. I didn’t know how to start. I couldn’t say what I’d found out. I still wanted to know what she was telling Wilson about Barbie Man, about me, maybe even about Jack. Wilson’s “bitter education” remark kept replaying in my head. I didn’t know how to put in words this well of feelings.

“What’s up with you and Wilson?” My tone was wrong. It sounded like an accusation.

“What do you mean? Nothing. You’re the one that left the other night on his Yamaha.”

“You talked to him on the phone about Space Port and Barbie Man. You never told me you did.”

“I have to tell you when I talk to Wilson?” Sage crossed her arms. We were both standing, facing each other at the edge of the field.

“How do you even have his number? It’s not listed.”

“Jesus, Libby. I have his number because he gave it to me. Because I buy pot off him. You’re so uptight about that shit, I’d never tell you.”

There was that hint that I was childish.

“If it was about Barbie Man, you should’ve said it to me, not him. He’s the one that’s made it all worse.”

The dark had settled around us, on the hill where the grills billowed smoke, around the swing sets; I felt it sinking into me.

“It’s hard to say anything to you,” she said. “I’m always walking on eggshells. We can’t tell Faye what happened to Ellen. We can’t talk about Faye. Or your dad. Especially not your dad. I know you miss him, but it’s like you are blind to the other stuff and how he was toward your mom. You act like he was perfect and everything is Faye’s fault and Faye’s a monster.”

I could feel that dread that she would say something we didn’t say. I needed to hurt her back first.

“You know, your father isn’t so perfect. You should ask him about Mrs. Boucher.”

For a second it hung in the air between us, and I wanted to press rewind, spin it back into me, because it could never be unsaid or undone.

Instead of lashing out at me, she just said, “What are you even talking about? Ask him what about her?”

Shame seeped through me. I felt smaller than I ever had. Sage was still sort of shaking her head, like I had asked her a difficult math equation, and then she started to laugh, seeing something beyond me.

“Oh shit.”

I turned around. Tony was walking over with a big grin on his face, carrying two lawn chairs, a blanket, and a cooler. “Oh my God, he’s treating it like a date. I said I’d watch the fireworks with him.”