Like most of the smaller shops on our block, the Nook traditionally closes early at noon every Wednesday for a half day—something to do with farmers back in the 1800s, I don’t know. But the Wednesday after I talk to Lucky, I’m thankful for it. If Lucky won’t let me turn myself in to the police and unburden my soul, then I’m going back to my original plan: Los Angeles or bust. I’ve just got some repair work to do. A teeny, tiny little patch.

And maybe while I’m in the process of patching, I might do a little snooping. I’ve been cooped up in the Nook too long.

I need to get out and assess the damage. And other things …

“You can use your darkroom if you need to develop any film,” Mom tells me when I clock out for the afternoon and she’s taking the till out of the register. “I won’t be receiving books in the back this afternoon.”

“That’s okay.”

“You were begging me to clear it out yesterday.”

“I’m going to … shoot some signs on the common.” Lie.

“Oh? Thought you’d snapped all those.”

“Not all of them.” Double lie. I’ve taken a million shots of every sign on the town common. “Maybe I’ll head down the Harborwalk. Need new material for my Photo Funder. Losing subscribers left and right.”

“Only losers who don’t appreciate good art when they see it. You’ll get new subscribers. I don’t like you walking around town alone, though. If anyone harasses you—”

“I’ll record it.”

Which is probably what I should have done that night at the party with Adrian; then again, I’d have to look at that nude photo of my mom all the time. She still doesn’t know, which is a miracle, considering how small this town is. All I can hope is that it stays in the teen gossip circuit and doesn’t make it up to her old friends.

When I’m certain she’s taken the till into the stockroom and will be busy for a bit, I race up the rickety back steps to the above-shop apartment and scour my clothes for an outfit that screams Professional and Adult, but not Trying Too Hard: black pants, flats, white blouse. Hair in a simple French braid. Not much I can do about the splotchy freckles that make me look years younger, and after two failed tries, I give up on covering them with makeup.