Hallie jumps in. “These cookies are fantastic, Sandra.”

I look at the clock: ten PM. A reasonable time to announce I’m headed to bed, right?

“Thank you, Hallie,” Sandra replies, beaming.

“They are good,” I admit, taking another bite. They’re fudgy and peanut butter-y. Cressida would probably love the recipe, but then I’d have to explain how I got it.

“How are your classes going, Saylor?” Sandra asks, chugging right along on the try-to-get-to-know-you train. We’ve already covered favorite foods, movies, and books.

“Not sure,” I reply. “I’ve only been to one the last couple weeks.”

“One?!” Sandra replies, looking startled. “Were you sick? Marcus didn’t mention…”

“No, I just had soccer,” I respond matter-of-factly.

Sandra looks to Hallie for backup, but Hallie just sighs and shrugs. We’ve had this argument many times before. Hallie doesn’t get it. Her athletic career ended in middle school.

“I’m sure your professors—your advisors—they must know how important your classes are. More important than a game.”

My shoulders tense. I couldn’t begin to count the number of times I’ve heard that before. “It’s not just a game, it’s my life,” I reply briskly. “And my professors and advisors would rather I win another national championship than attend Principles of Marketing. I’m at Lancaster on a full athletic scholarship. I’m there to play soccer.”

“But surely they don’t expect every student who’s on an athletic team to give up every other aspect of their college experience.”

“Nope. I’m sure the guys on the golf team make it to every class, but I happen to be the captain of Lancaster’s most successful team. You don’t get ranked number one in the country by not giving it your all.” I stand. “I’m headed to bed. Good night.”

I’m already wearing my pajamas, so I just duck into the half bath to brush my teeth before climbing under the covers on the couch. I close my eyes and inhale the unfamiliar scent of whatever laundry detergent Hallie uses.

Low voices converse in the kitchen, and then I hear steps head down the hallway. The front door opens and closes.

More footsteps sound. Closer. “Saylor?” Hallie whispers.

I don’t answer.

There’s a sigh. “Good night.”

I lie there for a while before I finally fall asleep.

Chapter Nineteen

This is only the second wedding I’ve ever been to. The few friends I have who are in relationships are still light-years away from what’s meant to be a lifetime commitment.

My mother is an only child, and the few hazy memories I have of her side of the family turned to wisps of smoke around the same time she disappeared. They didn’t keep in touch, much less invite us to celebratory events. Or non-celebratory, for that matter.