Lottie looks over her shoulder and heaves a sigh, then stands aside to let me in. I follow her through the house with a pit in my gut. Her parents are in the kitchen, and I wave at them. Jacob lifts his hand and forces a smile. Pete looks super serious also, but when he sees me, he breaks into a grin.

“Hey, Stevie! You tracked her down, eh?”

“We’re going outside,” Lottie says, ignoring him, heading toward the screen door at the end of the kitchen.

*   *   *

Outside, Lottie collapses in a patio chair. I pull one out, and it screeches against the deck. I sit down and start right in.

“You know I didn’t mean anything,” I say.

She blows out her cheeks. “I know that. But Stevie, she is pissed. And embarrassed. And I don’t blame her. You totally betrayed a confidence.”

“But I didn’t even know!”

Lottie looks at me with her eyebrows raised, like how could I be such a moron. I start to wonder if maybe I did know. Or if maybe I am a moron. I wring my hands.

“Also? Maybe give her a little space. Texting her all the time? It’s a little … well, I’m sorry, but it’s a little desperate.”

My face is burning, and I don’t say anything.

“I’m sorry, Stevie,” she says, quietly. “Don’t shoot the messenger.” She looks sorry, and that makes me even more mad and embarrassed. “Just, you know. Let it go.”

“Right. Okay.” A moment passes. Then another one drags its feet across the yard, yawning. Finally, I clear my throat and make an excuse to leave. Lottie watches me gather my stuff and go out through the yard fence so that no one, especially Pete, who I feel suddenly estranged from, has to see my eyes filling up.

I go home and straight to my room, ignoring Mom’s cheerful greeting. I need distractions. I root through all my old movies and notice Dog Day Afternoon. I pop it in the ancient VCR and lay on my bed with my head propped up by a teddy bear. It’s hardly started when Mom knocks on the door and opens it.

“Oh, I love that one!” she says, looking at the TV. “‘Attica! Attica!’”

“You wanna watch with me?” I ask, not looking at her. Knowing the answer.

“Oh, hon. I would love to, but can I take a rain check? Reg is coming over.”

Oh goody.

“Oh, yeah. For sure. No problem.” I say this like a robot, but she doesn’t even pick up on it, so relieved that I’m not giving her a hard time.