“And in the summers, Gram and Papa will be at the Cape, so you two can go there if you don’t want to be in New York,” Aunt Nora continues. “And we’ll all be together for Christmas there, too.”

No one would let me live in the Cape house year-round. That’s for people who are trustworthy. Also, that would be super lonely and creepy, being up there all by myself.

Ben reaches for Mae. “Hey. I’ll be in Brooklyn with my family in the summers. It’s kind of perfect.”

Jenga.

That’s what happens inside me.

This news, this other freaking secret that Nate and Nora and Tony have kept to themselves for however long, it pushes me over and there is no getting up from this, from any of it, and I was just kidding myself, just kidding myself that I was clean, that I don’t need—

“Nah?” Mae slips her hand into mine. “We’ll figure it out. It’ll be okay.”

I pull my hand from hers. “You think?”

My voice is a slap. She leans back, like she can feel the force of the words against her cheek. I throw open the front door, and it bangs against the wall, hard. I guess it’s all very dramatic—maybe I should have tried out for the school play.

There are concerned thises and thats as I step out the door, still holding my purse: “Honey, come back—” (Nora), “Hannah!—” (Mae), “Leave her alone, you guys!” (Nate).

I’m out the door. I hear Mae behind me and I just … fly. I’m running down the street, fast, throat burning, the cold spring night cutting into me. I am so out of shape, but I go and go and go. She calls my name, but I don’t stop. I won’t ever stop running away.

“Hannah! Stop! STOP, JESUS CHRIST, STOP.”

Mae’s desperation almost makes me slow down, but it’s not quite enough.

For once the train is there, waiting for me, and I slip in just as the doors are closing. I tap my card on the kiosk and nod at the driver, my breath coming out in great, heaving gulps. As I’m making my way through the car, holding on to the bars that hang from the ceiling for balance, I catch a glimpse of Mae, hands on her knees, panting. Do we lock eyes and have deep internal realizations as my train speeds away from her?

No.

I sit down on an empty bank of seats and hug my purse to me. I’m stuck in my hourglass, the sand falling over me, faster and faster. It’s already to my knees, and I haven’t even had a pill yet.

We pass Zaftigs, then Fenway, and soon we’re underground, Boston Common above us. I can feel myself checking out.