I submitted a new paper and aced it, bringing the average of the two up to a B-. My history grade is passing—no longer in jeopardy. There’s no real reason for me to be here.

I doubt Cassia actually cares how I did on the re-do, based on how she handed me her suggestions for improvements for the essay without so much as a smile. But here I am anyway—because otherwise there’s no guarantee I’ll see her anytime soon. I’m not sure she’ll be standing in the kitchen when I get home tonight.

“Hi, Holden. How are you?”

“I’m good, Mrs. Nolan. Thanks.”

“Haven’t seen you around here in a while.” There’s no accusation in Cassia’s mother’s voice, only curiosity.

“I know. I had a question—a school question—for Cassia. If she’s home?”

Mrs. Nolan nods and opens the door wider. “Come on in.”

The inside of the Nolans’ house hasn’t changed since I was last here. It’s comfy and cozy and overstuffed. Filled with toys and games and stick figure drawings and family photos. Everything my home isn’t.

Cassia’s sister Maggie is lying on the sectional couch that takes up a large chunk of the living room. She sits straight up when I follow Mrs. Nolan into the room. “Holden! Hi!”

I smile, mostly in response to her pink cheeks. “Hey, Maggie.”

“Maggie mentioned you gave her a ride home on Tuesday,” Mrs. Nolan says. “I really appreciate it, Holden.”

“It wasn’t a problem,” I reply, which is exactly what I told Maggie when she thanked me profusely during the drive.

The only person who hasn’t thanked me is the one I did it for.

I know volunteering at the local animal shelter is important to Cassia. She’s helped out there since her family moved in across the street from mine when we were both in elementary school. I figured she would be happy not to have her younger sister tag along, especially since Maggie clearly didn’t want to go. Instead, she seemed mad at me about it.

I can’t figure her out. I shouldn’t care. Shouldn’t be here. I’m the one who forced distance between us in the first place. That had consequences I’ll have to live with.

“I’ll go let Cassia know you’re here.” Mrs. Nolan departs with a smile, leaving me and Maggie. And the little girl, who’s now busy knocking down blocks. The twin boys come scrambling downstairs a minute later, hitting each other with foam swords. They rush by and out into the backyard, screeching the whole way.

No wonder Cassia is an insomniac.

I shove my hands in my pockets and nod toward the television. “What are you watching?”

“It’s called Twenty-Five to One,” Maggie replies. “They fight over this one guy—or girl—and all go on group dates and stuff.”