Thing is, when I play it over, she doesn’t sound angry or annoyed about it. I’ve tried to bleach the moment from my brain, but now I riffle through my mind in search of the memory.

It was right after I came out—we were sitting here on my floor. She leaned in close to give me a hug and our faces were so close, already almost touching. It was so easy to close the gap between us. For a moment it felt right, and her arms tightened around me, but then she pulled away and pressed her fingers to her lips and shook her head as she mumbled something about needing to leave. That’s the last we ever spoke about it, or at all.

A week later, she went away for the winter break, and when she came back to school, it was clear we weren’t friends anymore.

The knock on my door makes me jump and I quickly shove the books under my bed with fingers I’ve accidentally chewed bloody, before calling out “Come in.” Dad brings me a cup of tea and a korvapuusti. Warily, I accept the cinnamon bun peace offering. I shift over so Dad can join me on the floor.

“Something new?” He points to my speakers. The Knock-Knock Jokes are playing again.

“That’s Morgan O’Connor on the drums. Did you know he was in a band back in Ireland?”

“I’m not surprised,” Dad says with a hint of a smile. “They’re not half bad, actually. Reminds me of the Offspring.” He bops his head along to the beat for a bit while I sip my tea, remembering the photos I’ve seen of Dad as a teenager. He had a bright-blue Mohawk when he met my mom, while Mom sported Chucks and chokers.

Now Dad’s hair is gray and rebelling against Mom’s attempts to keep it sensibly trimmed, and there are hard lines cutting down his cheeks from a lifetime of smiling.

I’d ask what’s wrong, but tea and a pastry aren’t going to make up for the fact he took away my phone and Internet for asking questions he doesn’t want to answer.

“I’m sorry,” Dad says, and I almost choke on my tea. “Sometimes we don’t treat you fairly.”

Understatement of the freaking year!

“I only wanted to know what’s going on,” I say. “I’m worried about Natalie.”