Izzy was sprawled on Charlie’s bed eating popcorn while her friends dressed for the party. Her dad was at home with Molly and this was supposedly her night to do her own thing and be a teenager. How? She felt about a hundred years old.

She joined in conversation about clothes and boys, but she wasn’t thinking of the party. She was thinking about her dad and Flora.

Flora.

Had they seen each other again? How serious was it? She’d spent so long studying the two of them she’d almost burned the burgers. She’d imagined them sneaking away from work to be together. What did they do when they met at lunchtime? Were they sleeping together? Where? She was pretty sure they hadn’t used the house, but there was always Flora’s apartment.

She imagined them curled up naked on a large bed, surrounded by fresh flowers.

Were they in love? What happened if they were in love?

Suddenly it was hard to breathe. There was no air in the room.

“Izz? Are you even listening—” Avery thrust a bottle of nail polish under her nose. “This color?”

“Looks great.” What if they decided to get married? Would her dad discuss it, or just announce it, like he’d announced that she was coming to dinner? She hadn’t been given a choice. She hadn’t been given a choice in any of the things that had happened to her lately.

Her life had been shattered. She still hadn’t stuck together the pieces, and now it seemed the shape might change again.

Her friends collapsed with laughter over something Izzy had missed and she forced a smile, trying to join in. Did she used to find hair and nails and what she wore important? She couldn’t even remember.

Drenched in panic, she tried to focus on her friends.

Music thumped out of the speakers and Izzy knew that any moment now Charlie’s mother would holler upstairs to turn it down because she couldn’t hear herself think. The predictability of it scratched at her skin.

It was Saturday night. In her previous life, Saturday nights were always reserved for friends, for hanging out, for doing teenage things. Being here should have felt good. Home made her think of her mom, and it was emotionally exhausting. Spending time with her friends should have been a distraction, but it wasn’t. She felt displaced.

“Charlie!!” The voice came up the stairs, decibels louder than the music. “Turn that noise down, now!”

Charlie rolled her eyes and cranked up the volume. “I’m drowning her out. She’s annoying the hell out of me. First it’s my grades, then it’s what I’m wearing, the way I’m talking...”