I don’t know who he thinks he is, looking at me like that. He’s the one talking about leaving Mom on the side of the road. I should be the one giving him the disappointed looks. But I can barely meet his eyes.

He’s still looking at me, but his face isn’t saying anything anymore. It’s just as silent as his mouth.

I can’t take this silence. The stillness of it. The way it’s making me look back at this messed-up, pissed-off girl who has no problem pushing her own brother away. Not to mention the first boy who’s ever given her a glimpse of a higher version of herself. I can’t stand her right now.

“Sorry,” I say, and sit back down. The apology is meant for tonight and Friday, but I don’t say all that.

Pretty sure Cole gets it, though, because he puts his arm around me. “I still want us to stick together, I do. I just thought you should know where I stand. After this year you’ll only have one year of high school left, but I’ll have two. It’s a bigger decision for me.”

Is this boy really trying to minimize the impact this decision is going to have on my life? But I stay cuddled up under his arm, tell myself to calm down. “I’m not saying I won’t go live with Daddy, but we still have two weeks. Let’s use our time to think it all through.”

“You’re right . . . we should,” Cole says, and squeezes me.

“And promise we’ll talk about this again before we make our final decision, before you tell anyone?”

“Promise,” he says. “This stays between us.”

REX

There’s no reason I should still be awake. It’s after midnight, and I’m lying in bed with the lights out. The house is wonderfully warm. My belly is comfortably full. And the frame, the entrance to the hall that leads to my father’s room, got a great picture tonight.

After my father and I ate Thai takeout and watched a little late-night TV, he filled up the frame for over an hour, talking about my game.

We won, just like I thought. And I hit the winning shot—a three from the baseline. The whole team tackled me in joy. Josh even rubbed my head. And Danny actually texted me tonight after the 360 alley-oop dunk made ESPN’s high school highlight reel. I should be sleeping like a baby.

But I can’t stop thinking about Carli. About that text she sent—Sorry. That’s it. No elaboration. What am I supposed to say back to that? It’s okay? No, because it’s not. I forgive you? No, because I don’t. I need more words. An explanation of why she was acting like that. A promise to never treat me that way again.