“At least their hearts are in the right place.” Molly grins as we pass beneath a rose canopy. Then, she sobers. “Are you okay?”

“Not really. My parents say I must stop being seen with Danni altogether. With the implication that if I’m caught even speaking to her, they’ll punish us.”

Molly squeezes her eyes shut, as though she was afraid of this very thing. “Okay,” she says. “We’ll figure it out.”

I’m not so certain, but hearing her say so does alleviate some of the tension in my shoulders. “You think?”

“Sure. Maybe we’ll do a roster or something. Some days Danni hangs with me and you hang with Eleanor, then we switch it up.”

“Okay. And Danni and I can spend evenings together, perhaps.”

We pass a group of third-year students and fall silent. When we’re alone again, Molly gives me a concerned frown. “You’re still going to risk seeing her? Think of what you could lose.”

We’ve reached the entrance to the library, where the printers are. But it’s also where students are likely to gather. So, for now, we hover on the grounds by a heap of brown slush that was once a crisp blanket of snow. “You could lose more than Danni,” Molly continues when I don’t reply. “I’m talking about losing your entire future. Doesn’t that terrify you?”

I press my fingertips to my temples, because I know there’s a correct answer here, but it feels like a lie.

“Can I tell you something sort of heavy?” Molly asks.

“Okay.”

She glances around us. “When Oscar died … at first … there were days I wished I died instead. When you’re in that kind of grief, it’s hard to see things clearly, and I thought I lost everything. Obviously I didn’t die, and you know what? I like my life. I like living. And I would still do almost anything to undo that night,” she adds quickly. “But he wasn’t my life. He was an incredible, amazing part of it, and I miss him every day. My life still has worth without him, though. I don’t want you to throw away everything that matters to you for her. Your life is bigger than Danni, and hers is bigger than you.”

I struggle with her words, turning them over every which way. In the end, all I can give her is a nod of acknowledgment, while I adjust my cape. Danni’s cape. “I have to get back inside,” I say. “But thank you.”

She sighs, and nods in return.

THIRTY-EIGHT DANNI