Aunt Nora hasn’t signed her up for the rehab in Belmont yet, since her tests are coming back negative. But she said she still wants Hannah to go. They agreed that as long as her tests were drug-free, she could wait until the new year. I’ve been looking into research coming out of Europe and other places—maybe we’re doing it all wrong. Maybe the Twelve Steps aren’t getting Nah anywhere. There’s no conclusive data on the method itself—shocking, really. And yet they seem to work for a lot of people.

I wish my parents were here.

The breakfast I brought up earlier sits on Nah’s desk, untouched. Blueberry corn pancakes—her favorite.

“I’m going to Castaways,” I say. “Come with. It’d be good—to get outside. And there’s finally some sun! It’s cold, but we’ll bundle up. Ben will make you something with lots of chocolate. He does pretty good latte art—I bet he could do a tarot card for you.”

Her hand goes to the necklace around her neck, a tiny diamond. It hangs just above Mom’s Greek evil eye charm. She rubs it with her thumb.

“Did Drew give you that?” I ask.

She nods.

I saw him on our street once. Since Nah can’t climb out the window anymore and she never comes downstairs, I think Drew might just be trying to be as close to her as possible. Gazing up at her window, like a twisted Romeo. But one look at Drew’s face, and I didn’t have it in me to interrogate him. I didn’t know drug dealers wore their hearts on their sleeves, but this one does, and it’s clear that heart belongs to Hannah, whether or not any of us like it.

At school, he’s a ghost, like her. Staring through all of us. I think maybe he really does love her. I can’t wrap my mind around a drug dealer not being a totally horrible person. It goes against everything I believe. He sold drugs to my sister. And I hate him for it. But I’ve asked around, and it’s true: He’s not dealing anymore. Maybe we’re wrong to try to keep them apart. Maybe that’s why she looks so empty.

“Nah.”

She looks at me now, her eyes dull. That bright, vibrant green now a faded sage, like old paint in a doctor’s office.

“I don’t want to go,” she says.

“What if I … snuck Drew in? So you guys can be together for a little bit. Would that help?”

I will break a rule. This is how desperate I am.

She looks at me. Through me. “I don’t want to see him.”

I cross the room and sit beside her. “You broke up?”

She leans her head against the wall, closes her eyes. “He can do better.”