Once we’d recovered, the two of us stood up and started walking, back in the direction of my house, bags slung over our shoulders. But when we got to my street, Jasper stopped walking and turned, reached out a hand. “Can I have my groceries?” she said. “I think this is where we part ways.”

“Oh!” I said. “No. That’s silly. I’ll carry it. I can walk you home, and that way I’ll know where you live.”

“Nah,” said Jasper. “They aren’t that heavy, and it’s kind of far. Plus, then you’ll just end up walking home alone.”

“Or I can walk you, and then you can walk me, and then I can walk you,” I said, grinning. “We can spend all afternoon walking each other home. Back and forth.”

But Jasper wasn’t grinning. “Please, Leah,” she said, with serious eyes. “Please, just let it go.”

“But why? What’s the big deal?”

She looked down at her feet. “I don’t want you to see where I live,” she said softly. “Okay?”

I shook my head. “No,” I said. “I don’t care what your house looks like. And anyway, we agreed not to worry about that stuff, didn’t we? To just be friends? Freaks together. Right?” I smiled.

Jasper wasn’t smiling. She only stood, staring at me for what felt like a long minute. I stared right back at her. I wasn’t going to give up this time.

“Leah, please?” Her voice sounded strained, or maybe tired.

I shook my head. I stood firm. “Nope.”

It didn’t feel like me at all, this stubbornness. It wasn’t a thing I’d ever done, to insist on anything this way. But I wasn’t feeling quite like myself. I was a different me suddenly. Blunt. Honest. I wanted to know Jasper, more than I could remember wanting anything. It felt like I needed to know Jasper. I didn’t like the feeling that she could drift away from me again. That she could disappear. I thought about her leaving, and how I would then just fall back into my silent house, and go back to sleep, with the shadows and the silences; and I knew I didn’t want that to happen. I needed that not to happen. So I stared at her, silent. Waiting.

She looked down at her feet in their flip-flops, so I looked at her feet too. They were a mess. Her toes were filthy, grubby from the bus and the streets. Orange nail polish chipped and grown out. They were sad toes.

“We could paint our nails,” I offered. “At your house. I could paint yours and you could paint mine? It’ll be fun.”

“You don’t understand,” said Jasper, turning away from me, walking away from me. “You really don’t. I don’t know why you’re doing this. It will change everything.”