“And Leah, I absolutely hate to do this. It’s a terrible time to dash. But I’m afraid I’m running late. I’m just rushing down to the school for a board meeting.”

“Oh, sure,” I said.

Bev shifted her purse on her shoulder, forced a smile. “Well, okay then, Leah. It was so nice to see you, and will you please tell your mom we’re home? She should . . . call me.”

“Sure,” I said.

“We really need to . . . catch up. . . .”

I nodded. “Will do.”

To catch up. Like that was the most normal thing in the world. When I was pretty sure that, until this past year, they’d never gone more than a week without seeing each other, for as long as I’d been alive.

“Okay,” she said. “Well, thanks. And you should write Tess a letter. I’m sure she’d be excited to get mail at camp.”

I just blinked. As she reached down and hugged me tightly, it felt like any other Bev hug, with her chin poking into my shoulder. She meant it, I could tell, but I could feel her heart racing against me, too fast.

Then she ran away. Like, actually ran. Which was kind of funny. It isn’t often you see a grown-up woman run down a street when they aren’t wearing yoga pants and earbuds. I stared after her for a minute before I turned and stumbled off in the other direction. I didn’t know what else to do with myself, so I just kept on going, heading to East Atlanta as planned.

It was almost like I was floating along in a fog. I wasn’t sure exactly what I was feeling. I knew I was angry, but I wasn’t sure why. And the anger was mixed with something else. Envy? Sadness? It was all just a big confusing swirl of feelings. I couldn’t help picturing Tess at camp, with my camp friends, in my craft cabin or my bunk. Tess even knew about my special reading place, in the oak tree. I wondered if she’d try to find that and take it for herself, along with everything else.

I drifted, lost in all that, toward the noise and traffic of Moreland, only stopping for the red light. But then, standing at the corner, I glanced across the street and saw a familiar profile at the bus stop. She was sitting on the bench, staring down at her phone.

A cloud of red curls.

My confusion suddenly cleared. The fog lifted. My heart jumped. “Jasper! I shouted. “Hey, Jasper!”

I saw her raise her head at the sound of my voice, but at that very moment, the bus pulled up in front of the stop and blocked her from view. If she got on, I’d miss her.