“WHAT?” Raindrops pittered and pattered down on my face.

And trickled down Berry’s cheeks.

“Never mind.” Berry reached down and picked up her board, the wheels spinning.

Suddenly I was chasing a speed-walking Berry threading through the parking lot. Like she was trying to lose me. “Berry!”

Berry didn’t look back. “I need you to give me some space, okay? Please leave me alone.”

The rain turned into a torrent as Berry sailed off. Endless sloppy raindrops. And me. Feeling more alone than even that first night in Greenville with the endless dark that would be my new home.

By the time I made it into the school I looked like a wet sponge, and not just because I was wearing yellow head to toe. Yellow, the color of caution, of which I apparently had none.

“Anne!”

I swiveled, my boots squeaking on the floor, to see Mr. Davidson shaking off his umbrella and taking in my yellow faux-fur parka, which was now about twenty pounds of fur and rainwater. “You’re soaked. Fuzzy and soaked.”

“Yeah.” I flapped my arms. “Well. Yeah. Actually. Mr. Davidson. I have to talk to you.”

“Let’s get you dried off first,” he offered, holding open the door to his classroom. “We have a few more minutes before first bell, and I think I have some paper towels in here somewhere.”

Magically, he also had a thermos of tea and some cookies, which he spread out on his desk before handing me a wad of napkins. “Help yourself. You look like you need it.”

“Uh, I’ll skip the tea, thanks.” I dabbed at my jacket. “Um. So I have to tell you—”

“You’re quitting the play.” Mr. Davidson sat down behind his desk. “I got an email from your mother this morning.”

“Yes, well,” I said, grabbing another sheet of paper towel. “My mom thinks, with everything happening, it’s not a good idea. Plus, I basically am being framed for arson right now by a bunch of Forevers, and Berry hates me, which I can’t really get into because I will totally lose my sh—stuff, if I do.”

“The Forevers?” Mr. Davidson grabbed a cookie. “Who are the Forevers?”

“Like the people who act like they have been here since like the dawn of time,” I explained, grabbing a cookie for myself.

“Ah.” Mr. Davidson brushed the crumbs from his desk. “I see. Well, I’ll be very sad to not have you in the play. I was looking forward to seeing your Pan.”

“Will you change the play?” I asked, grabbing another cookie because they were really good. Kind of lemony. “Because of the letters. And the parents. Who hate it?”