Elle, St. Clare, and Lars choose that moment to enter. “Ah, this time?” I try to play off her words. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. There’s always something.”

I’m trying very, very hard not to get offended, and it might be harder to do if she wasn’t, well, right. But I don’t need my new friends to know that my sister thinks I’m a complete fuckup, thanks. I’ve put in the hard work to get St. Clare to like me, and I sort of want to keep it that way.

“So, these are my friends …” I mutter.

She barely even looks at them. “Come on. What are we bailing you out of this time?”

An acidic taste fills my mouth, and I try to swallow it all back. I love Margot, and I hate the thought of disappointing her, but I never seem to be able to stop. “N-nothing,” I say. “No favor. Just dinner.”

Her expression softens from a replica of Mom’s disappointment to Dad’s worry. “Are you okay?”

“Always.”

Margot and Elle exchange a look.

“Anyway, I have to … to drop this off. We’re, umm, headed out of town for a few days. Maybe longer⁠—”

“What about your job?”

“I cleared it with them.” It hurts to lie, knowing that I probably won’t have a job next week.

“You just started. They can’t be happy about that.”

“I am allowed days off.”

Before Margot can get cranky with me again, St. Clare takes over. “It’s my fault. I have a family emergency, and Perry offered to give me a ride out of town.”

Margot glares at him. “Who are you?”

“His … friend.”

“On a trial period, apparently,” Elle adds.

“Well, sorry, friend,” Margot says, crossing her arms. “But Perry needs his job. He can’t afford to take time off.”

“Maybe you two need to have this conversation literally anywhere else,” Elle says. “Away from people.”

Margot turns on her heel and storms off toward the bedroom, and I hurry after her. There’s only a short, bright purple hall from the living area into the sunshine-yellow bedroom, but when I get there, she’s standing by the bed, hands buried in her thick, black hair.

I close the door softly behind me, and she glances up.

“Why are you doing this?” she whispers.

“I … family emergency.”

Margot rolls her eyes so hard I’m surprised they stay in her skull. “You always do this. You get a decent job, start making money, look like you might be able to support yourself, and then something comes up. Every time. I can’t keep going through this with you.”

It’s hard not to cry at that. Gotta say, knowing that I keep letting her down hits me hard, but this isn’t my fault. Mostly. Sort of. She wanted me to get a job!