I stand, unsteady.

“I’m trying to understand,” I say. “But if I took your advice in space, I’d die. Control is very important to the mission. I really don’t see the practical applications of this philosophy.”

River leans back, gestures to the train car enclosing us. “Just ride the ride—you’ll get it.”

Zen people are infuriating. No answers, just more questions.

When I get to Castaways, Ben takes one look at me and turns toward the huge vat of coffee behind him. It’s interesting to me that the name of this place is how I feel: like a castaway, a survivor of an ocean catastrophe, who has washed up on this strange shore—this new life that looks nothing like my old one. I don’t know if I’m waiting to be rescued, or if I already have been, and I just don’t know it. Sometimes it feels like I’m shooting up flares, and Ben is the one who sees them.

He fills a cup with steaming coffee, then slides the mug across the counter toward me. Our fingers touch, and it’s the first time I’ve felt warm all day.

How do I keep Ben from turning me into a hungry ghost? I don’t want to be like Hannah, shredded to pieces by these boys. And if something happens to Ben, or we break up, I don’t want to feel hollow after. I don’t want to kid myself into thinking he can make me feel whole.

I pull my skin away from his, from those fingers that are trying to intertwine with mine as he hands me my cup of coffee.

“Thanks,” I say.

A look of confusion crosses his face, but he leans across the counter anyway and kisses my forehead. “I missed you.”

It’s been days since we’ve seen each other. I can’t leave the house all the time and go off with my boyfriend while my sister’s holed up in her room, hurting.

“I missed you, too. I can’t stay long.”

The coffee tastes bitter today. Too strong. Or maybe I’m just getting weak.

“I’m off in a couple hours. We could—”

I shake my head. “I have to get home.”

“Okay.” I can hear disappointment, frustration, worry. Fear. Love.

I think about what River said, how nothing is for keeps, but that we also have to ride the ride and be all in with life. But this is cognitive dissonance: She’s telling me I have to both hold on and let go at the same time. Impossible.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m really out of my element here. I’m a better lab partner than girlfriend.”