My eyebrows push together. Emily has always been a better student than me, likely the best in our entire school. “You know you could if you wanted to…go to some fancy school,” I say, now uncomfortable that my dad was suggesting she should go somewhere else, that it would be better for her. I’ve only admitted this out loud once, and it’s hard to look at her and know that maybe I’m just being selfish, wanting to keep her here with me. I sheepishly examine the piece of long grass in my hand.

“No,” Emily says with so much force that I look back up. “Don’t you dare even suggest it, November Adley. I was asking you that question, not the other way around. Now answer me, do you want to go to UConn or not?” she asks, and even though there is fire in her voice, there is relief in her eyes.

And I’m relieved that she’s relieved. “One hundred million percent,” I say, and we smile at each other, the big goofy kind of smile that makes your eyes squint and your chest feel warm. And just like that the whole conversation drops away, like it never happened in the first place.

The screen door on Ben’s back porch swings shut. We both turn, watching Ben balance three glasses of iced lemonade and two bags of chips, and make no attempt to help him.

Did my dad know? Did he know six months ago that I might not be here to go to UConn the way I’d always planned? Questions explode through my mind—questions about Aunt Jo’s murder, about our Strategia relatives, and about his and Mom’s decision to keep me hidden. But then I spot Emily’s loopy handwriting on one of the cards tied to the white roses and my body squeezes tightly around my heart. In this moment, there are so many things outside my control, so many things I don’t understand. But the one thing I do understand is that I’m hurting my best friend—my best friend, who I’m supposed to drink my first glass of wine with, go on my first trip to Europe with, the first person I want to tell when I fall in love.

I push my fist into my thigh. I can’t do this to Emily. I won’t. And before I even realize it, I’m slipping into my bedroom and putting on my coat, my heart beating a mile a minute. I know this isn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done. But I also know that I’ll regret it forever if I don’t try to see her one last time.