“You could have joined us if you wanted to,” I say.

She raises her eyebrows again to let me know she doesn’t buy it, but all she says is, “I like Natalie, but you’re my best friend, Milla.” She looks away.

I shrug. I know that. But all the feelings of the last few days come to the surface and I can’t lie to her. “It just feels like everyone is trying to take you over!”

“Excuse me,” she says, sitting up straighter and jutting out her chin. “But no one is taking me over. No one takes over Honey Wine. I mean Deb Wine.”

“Yeah, and that’s the other thing,” I say. “It just feels really … unlike you to change your name just because a teacher told you to.”

“Why do you care what I call myself?” she says. “And may I remind you of your Starbucks name, Cami?”

“It’s Camille,” I say. “And anyway, that’s totally different.”

“Why?” she shoots back. “Why is that different?”

I search for what to say. It just feels different, Starbucks and school.

“You’re—” I start. “It’s like you’re taking the opportunity of being in a new school to change your name and be a different person.”

“Well, I’m not a different person. I’m me. And I like who I am.” Honey pulls her legs up to sit cross-legged on the seat. I shift over, to avoid her knee jutting into me. “Why would changing my name make me a different person?”

I don’t have an answer. We ride the rest of the way home in silence.

When I get home, Aunty Steph has just arrived, and I give her a big hug.

“Milla-babe,” she says, hugging me back for a really long time, enveloping me in the smell of lavender and body odor that is uniquely Aunty Steph.

“Your mom’s just dropped off Max and me and gone to run some errands,” she says. “Come, let’s hang out.” She hefts her huge camping knapsack onto one shoulder and climbs the stairs to the spare room across from Max’s bedroom, where she sleeps whenever she stays with us.

Max is in the bathroom peeing with the door open. “If it’s yellow, let it mellow, right, Maxie?” she calls to him. Aunty Steph works at a retreat center in the forest for people who want to learn about Judaism and the environment. When she pees, she doesn’t flush the toilet so as not to waste water.

“You got it, Aunty Steph!” he says. He loves this rule for some reason. I should know. I share a bathroom with him. I think it’s gross, so I always flush. But I still think Aunty Steph is the coolest. She’s my mom and uncles’ baby sister and was only a teenager when I was born, so it feels more like she’s an older sister to me than an aunt.

Aunty Steph drops her bag on the floor with a thump and lies down on the bed, indicating to me that I should do the same on the massage table. There isn’t a whole lot of room in here. When my parents bought this house, I think they imagined this would be another kid’s bedroom, but that didn’t work out. And when I said that everything in our house is “just so,” in perfect order, all the time, I should have added that there is one exception: this room, which is “just so … messy.”