“I just mean that it might be easier for you. And for him. I’m serious. It’s tough, I get it, I mean I’ve been adjusting to it, too … but it’s kind of cool, too, don’t you think?”

“Stevie, God. You do not understand.”

“Uh, no? I totally understand. Or, I’m trying to.” I look out her window and think about the significance of all of this, in a larger sense. “We are living in such an interesting time,” I say. “People can be who they want to be.”

“Oh my God,” she says. “This is not a movie. It’s my life.”

“What? No, it’s just that—”

“Stevie.” She looks at me, her eyes suddenly angry. “Will you please stop. About this. And, frankly, everything. Just—just leave it alone in general.”

“What? Why?”

“What? Why? Fuck. Never mind.”

“No, what is it? Is it something to do with Paige?”

She snorts. “Paige? Are you serious? You are obsessed. Jesus. Forget it.”

My face burns up to my hair. She picks up a book, sits back on the bed. I get up, grab my bag, and I look at her once more. I say that I’m leaving. She nods but doesn’t look up. I gather my things and head out, just in time to see Lottie’s other dad, the original, coming home from work. He waves though the car window as I hold my bag above my head and run in the direction of my house. He calls out to me that he’ll drive me home, but I yell back, “That’s okay! I love the rain!”

That is bullshit, but I don’t want anyone feeling sorry for me, even when it comes to acts of God.

At home, alone, the rain pounding on the windows like a drum, I push PUBLISH, send my video out into the world. I want to show my understanding, my acceptance, my support—even if my loyal subscribers are the only ones who see it.

*   *   *

In the morning, I wake up forgetting why I feel kind of sick, and then remember. I check my phone, but it is giving me the stone-cold freeze. I hear from no one. I decide not to check in with anyone. I’m sure things will blow over.

But Lottie is not at our spot to walk to school. I ignore the shiver that runs down my back. I walk up the hill toward the school, and I see them. Lottie and Paige, together, staring me down. I climb the steps. Time stands still. The air isn’t moving.

“Hey,” I say.

“Oh, ‘hey,’” says Lottie, arching an eyebrow. Something’s not right.

“What? What is it?”

People are looking at us as they walk through the doors.

Lottie leans in, her face terrible and contorted. I’d laugh if this wasn’t awful.