“We shouldn’t have to,” Dad said, and now he was just starting to piss me off.

“Summer says hi, by the way.”

“Oh? You were with Summer?” Mom asked, instantly relaxing.

It only pissed me off more.

“No. I just ran into her.”

They exchanged looks as though having just confirmed some theory.

“Thomas—” Mom started to say.

“Look, if you don’t want me to go out, I won’t. I don’t care,” I interrupted.

“You can go out—”

“Great!” I said. “I’m gonna go get some sleep ’cause I got school in a few hours.”

Before they could say anything, I turned and left the room, heading up the stairs and walking down the hall until reaching my bedroom. Noah’s was next to mine, and just as I passed by it, the light went off from the crack under his door. It seemed everyone had waited up for me.

The next morning, I planned on getting dressed and leaving the house before anyone was up, but I had no such luck.

“Thomas?” my mom called out as I came down the stairs.

“Morning,” I barely said, standing at the entrance to the kitchen.

Noah sat at the counter eating cereal, while mom made coffee in her French press. Dad was, as per usual, hidden from view at the breakfast table behind one of the three newspapers he read every morning.

“Your father and I are heading up to the lake later today. Would it be okay for you to keep an eye on things for a few days?” Mom asked, looking at an unsuspecting Noah and then back at me as though to imply I’d be babysitting.

“Sure,” I said. “No problem.”

“We’ll probably be home by Monday.”

“Great.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with us going?” she asked.

“Why wouldn’t I be okay with you guys going?”

Dad loudly turned the pages of his newspaper, something I was the only one who seemed to have noticed.

“Lovely,” she said. “If there’s anything you need—”

“There isn’t. I gotta go.” I’d already turned back, walking away.

“Jonas called again…” she said, her voice getting higher as I moved farther from earshot.

I was just about to close the front door when I felt it being pulled open.

“Hey,” Noah said. “Can I walk with you?”

“Sure,” I told him, halfway down the steps.

It was the first time he and I had been alone together since I came back from the hospital. It was also the first time we’d occupied the same space without it leading to an argument or feeling as though it would inevitably head down that route.

“He keeps doing that, you know.”

“Who? What?” I asked.

“Jonas. He calls and always asks about you when I’m in school.”

I didn’t say anything.