I looked at the others, who were staring at me as if I had done something terrible, as if they had heard my thoughts and knew what had happened at Foxworth. For a moment, I did think I had been speaking aloud. They continued to stare.

“What?” I practically screamed.

“Arthur just asked you how you intended to spend most of your summer,” Bessie said, scowling as if ignoring a question from Arthur was akin to treason.

I looked at her, at Emma and Elsie and then at Arthur, who was smiling but more like someone who was embarrassed he had been caught with such interest in me. It was painfully clear to them all that I hadn’t heard a word he had just said, maybe none of what he was saying. What was a more recognizable way of telling someone that you had no interest in him than totally disregarding him while he was working so hard at being attractive and interesting to you?

“Oh. I have no idea right now. I’m waiting on an invitation from Queen Victoria to visit her at Windsor,” I added.

“What?” Emma said.

Elsie giggled uncomfortably.

Bessie swung her eyes, and Arthur’s smile wilted.

I stood up. “I’m sorry, everyone. I’ve got to go home. Sorry to rush out, but I just remembered that I promised my mother I would sift through my wardrobe today and sort out the clothes I no longer want or need. We’re going to present our annual gift to the Salvation Army.

“So,” I said, turning to him, “to answer your question, Arthur, I’ll probably spend a lot of time this summer replacing things, and we have been talking about a trip to the beach. I’ve also been thinking about taking private painting lessons, too. My father says I doodle so much that I might as well see if I can sell one.”

Arthur stood. “I’d be happy to borrow Bessie’s bike and escort you home, Corrine.”

“How gallant, but I find I go faster when I don’t carry on a conversation while cycling. To most, it’s a social event. To me, it’s merely another means of transportation and some good exercise. Besides, it would be cruel of me to take you away from your devoted audience. I’ll catch up when I see you all again. Good luck with your football, Arthur,” I said. I couldn’t help but make it sound like something insignificant, even childish.

He looked at the others and then said, “Thank you,” but weakly, his disappointment so obvious that it could bring someone more susceptible to it to tears.

“ ’Bye.”

I hurried around Bessie’s house to my bicycle and started away, pedaling more like someone fleeing the scene of a crime than someone merely going home.