It makes Lulu feel shivery to imagine it: these two people, small and ordinary, falling in love and changing the course of an entire city’s history. Connie playacting in a movie, and her acting turning into money that turned into land and business and a legacy. Maybe that’s why people are so obsessed with Avery Riggs: He made something out of nothing. He married a much younger woman and turned her into an empire.

If only her dad had figured out how to do that, Lulu thinks, instead of the extremely boring regular thing he did, which was to dump her mom when her career never took off, and marry someone younger, and then someone younger again.

She almost misses Rich’s response to her Flash amid all the stuff from people she doesn’t know. He went up to the lookout with Jules, apparently, and Bea, and a smallish bottle of vodka. In the video he sent her he’s holding his phone at arm’s length and filming the two of them, Bea’s dark head huddled close at his side. “You think that just because you have—what, two thousand—”

“Five thousand!” Bea chirps. She’s definitely drunk.

“Five thousand Flash followers,” Rich corrects himself, “you’re too cool to hang out with us now?”

“You’re bored ’cause you’re boring,” Jules says, somewhere off camera.

“Julian Powell!” Bea yells. Rich swerves to turn toward Jules and Lulu catches a glimpse—barely that—of Owen.

Someone is standing next to him. Someone shorter.

Some girl.

Then the video cuts out.

Lulu thought her heart froze the day Owen broke up with her; she thought she put it in deep freeze and left it there to just—well, not rot. Ice. Whatever. So it surprises her to feel it kicking in her chest, the gasp of a spasm where she was supposed to be numb. She wasn’t sure she wanted Owen back, but she definitely didn’t want him to move on first.

She’s sure her face will give her away if she tries to send a picture back.

Instead she messages Bea, I hope you’re defending my honor up there.

OBVSSSSSSSSS, Bea replies. BUttt shouldn’t you be here defending it yourself?

Lulu types, I have English eighth.

Come out with us after, Bea says. We’ll be at R’s house for a while and then I think going to some party? Someone Patrick knows?

Lulu weighs her options. It’s nice to have something to do, first of all, and if Owen is—whatever—with whoever—and who would he even be—she should assert her claim to her place in the group. She belongs there with them. She has belonged there for years, in ways that have nothing to do with being or not being Owen’s girlfriend.

But also: ugh.