As we start toward the couch, Ben gives my vintage overalls a once-over. “Are those pineapples?” He leans in a little to study the pattern, and I catch a faint whiff of coffee.

“Yes. Pineapples make me happy.” I glance at Nate. “Hannah says they’re too much.”

“Nothing can ever be too much.” Nate gestures to the sequined headband he’s wearing. “Case in point.”

It is one of the strangest nights of my life. I’m both in my body and entirely out of it. Maybe it’s like going through the atmosphere—you’re not on Earth anymore, but you’re not totally in space, either. I see me and Ben and Nate on the couch, working on equations, and then I feel every centimeter of Ben’s thigh touching mine. And then I’m hovering above us all again, watching.

When we finally make sure the hypothetical plane my cousin is building isn’t going to crash, Ben turns to me. “I thought Nate was exaggerating about the genius part. You’re intimidating as hell, Mae.”

My cousin grins. “Believe the hype. We got a future Nobel winner here.”

The words make me feel suddenly, utterly hopeless. How many times had I heard Dad say them? It’s not like I forgot he died, but all this work hit the PAUSE button on my memory. Now it’s on PLAY again.

“I still haven’t done my Annapolis interview, so…” I wave my hand, like everything else—my entire life—is beside the point.

Nate stands. “Gravity’s a bitch, Mae.”

I should never have told him I cancelled my interview in LA. Or that I haven’t rescheduled here in Boston. I should never have said, I can’t do this without him. It was out of character for me. The thought of sitting in that interview and then not being able to talk about it afterward with Dad … No one but Nate knows. And I will reschedule. Of course I will. For him—Dad. And me. I didn’t mean I can’t ever do this without him. I just can’t do it without him right now. I’m interviewing for a naval military academy. If something they say triggers my emotions, I could risk losing my place there. I need more time. I need more chances to practice telling people they’re gone in a voice that can also say things like, The nukes on our submarine are ready for launch, sir.

I sigh. “I’m not an inert object. I told you, I just need time.”

Ben leans his head back on the couch. “Okay, you two have just teleported into the spacetime continuum and I’m stuck on this rock. I’m a simple man of the land. Translation, please?”