“Bye, Kane,” I said, waving and shutting the door. I heard him start to sing “We Will Rock You” by Queen before the slider closed all the way.

The library was nicer than any building we had in Long Beach. I’d heard Aunt Maureen and Uncle Bran talking about how this county was rich because of natural gas, so it had things like a sparkling new library and middle school, beautiful parks, and an aquatic center, even though some of the stores on Pine still had wood-plank sidewalks out front.

I took a big gulp of air and went inside, looking up at the high, slanting ceiling with massive beams, and smelling both new construction and old books at the same time. I followed signs through the stacks to the meeting room where the art camp would be held.

“Welcome!” said the only person in the room when she saw me hovering. The woman had long, wavy blond hair and wore a maxi dress with an open-front cardigan and flat sandals. “I’m Karly Blythe. I’ll be your art teacher for the next five weeks. What’s your name?”

“Tess Harper,” I said numbly.

“Ah, it’s so nice to meet you, Tess,” she said in a knowing way, and I wondered if my mom or aunt had told her about me in advance.

“You too, Ms. Blythe.”

“Oh my goodness, call me Karly!” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I’m too young to be Ms. Anything.” She laughed at her own joke, then cleared her throat. “Since you’re the first to arrive, you get first pick of the work spaces.” She waved a hand toward the rows of tables. “Sit anywhere you like!”

Her voice echoed; the room was huge. Karly went back to whatever she’d been doing while I looked around.

The walls were stacked logs—or made to look like them. The one without the row of windows had different styles of art framed in black, all hung at my eye level. The floor had a massive circular labyrinth pattern etched into it, like the people who built the library had wanted to summon aliens from outer space. Heavy beams supported the ceiling in an alternating pattern of raw wood and sturdy black metal. It was pretty and well-lit and a nice place to create art.

For other people, that is. I hadn’t made anything since . . . before.

Biting a piece of skin from the inside of my lip, I chose a table in the second row near the center and sat down. Feeling weird about being the first one there, I decided to find something to do. I didn’t have a book, and I’d turned off my social media because I hadn’t wanted to watch everyone back at home living life without Colette. So, I opened Viewer, but instead of checking which videos were trending, I went to my own account.

Well, our account.