“He is cute. But he’s boring, you know?” I pause. “I’d way rather make out with him at parties and just call it a day.”

She laughs. “You’re the worst.”

“The worst, but not boring,” I say with a grin, and wipe chocolate off my lip.

The back door opens and we both look up.

“You know, you girls can roast marshmallows just as easily inside by the fireplace without freezing your butts off,” my dad says.

“That’s what I keep telling her,” Emily replies. “But you know what she’s like.”

“We have like ten blankets and it’s a balmy forty-eight,” I argue.

“Practically tropical,” Emily groans.

“Well, I’ll put the kettle on if you want some tea to warm up with,” he says.

“Thanks, Dad. We’ll be in soon.”

He starts to pull the door shut, then pauses. “I forgot to tell you. I’m headed over to Aunt Jo’s after work tomorrow. So I won’t be home for dinner.”

“She can eat at my place,” Emily volunteers. “No problem.”

“Glad to hear it,” he says, and closes the door.

“Your dad’s been going to Providence a lot. That’s the second time in two weeks, right?”

“Third,” I say. “He’s been helping her with some home repairs. I keep telling him he should go on a weekend so I can go with him.”

Dad went to see Aunt Jo three times in two weeks, which was unusual enough, but on top of that he always went on days I couldn’t go. And then right after all these unusual visits, her house got broken into. Which raises the question: Did Dad know something was going on even before the supposed break-in? I can’t believe I never picked up on this. And now that I’m painfully aware that I don’t know squat about my family, I am worried—worried about what’s really going on with them and that I have absolutely no way to get in touch and find out if everything’s okay. Damn this school’s archaic isolation.

Just then Matteo enters the courtyard and snaps me out of my thoughts. He doesn’t look puffy and red-eyed from crying the way I would be if I’d just lost my close friend. Instead he looks focused and…furious. Ines and Felix enter the courtyard right behind him.

On instinct, I check my distance from the two exits just in case I need to make a run for it. But Matteo has yet to look in my direction. Charles and Brendan, however, are staring right at me.

The professor smiles at me and places her hand on her chest. “Professor Basurto,” she says, and just like that the silent standoff among the six of us is broken. “You must be…”

“November,” I say.